#there's been quite a few times where I defeated someone with the last Servant

[animegirlsakurablr]

Alice when she's down to her last Servant: IT'S THE FINAL BRAINCELL!!! *badly plays kazoo*

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - 15: Moongazing (Free Day)

In the moonlight the willow sways On this roadside I am but a stone Visions of you come to me

—Tsuki Wo Miteita

How fitting that it would a full moon when night returned to the skies of Norvrandt for the first time in a century.

The celebration was still ongoing in the streets below and it would not surprise him the slightest if it continued long into the night and lasted until the crack of dawn. He could not fault them for it. One Lightwarden. One region returned to night. But it was a start and irrefutable proof that what the people of the Crystarium have been fighting for was not only possible, but potentially within reach.

The Warrior of Darkness has come at last.

The Crystal Exarch did not make a habit of gazing down at the city and its people from above but tonight found himself seeking the tranquility of one of the upper balconies when he caught a glimpse of the moon shining full and bright.

He was not the only one who seemed to have done the same.

On the Source, the moon was the dominion of Menphina, the Lover. In some distant past, a young scholar immersed in the study of Allagan history had been more interested in the existance of the lesser moon Dalamud never had much reason nor desire to offer prayers to her specifically. Here and now, with the very same Warrior of Darkness that brought back the night sky, the Crystal Exarch found himself enraptured by the sight of her bathed in Her light.

As though responding to his thoughts, Estrild looked over her shoulder. “Lord Exarch?”

“Forgive me. I did not realize this balcony was already occupied.” He nodded towards the ground below. “There are celebrations abound, but peace and quiet is a scarcity tonight it seems.”

She let out exhale and he could hear the sound of a slight smile in her voice as she said, “I quite agree with you, Lord Exarch. I thought about retreating to my room in the Pendants, but…” She turned back to look up at the skies. “I have not seen the moon in only a few days. I can only imagine what it must like for those seeing it for the first time.”

“For a hundred years, the people of the First knew only the oppressive light of the sun,” he murmured. “It is inescapable. Domineering. An ever-present reminder of the Flood that brought this land to ruin. The light of the moon is… gentler. A guide in the darkness. Much like…”

“Warrior of Darkness, servant of death, take care of our souls at our dying breath Let sinners and eaters of sin go with three That all may return to the sunless sea.”

Ah, that old bedtime story. He had laid the foundations of her arrival during those years wherein he journeyed the lands of Norvrandt. What had began as sharing the stories of hope that kept those in the Eighth Umbral Calamity going in hopes that they would being a similar succor to the aching souls of the First, had turned into prophecies over time.

“Where did you learn that rhyme, if I may ask?”

She paused for a moment, bringing her hands together and closing her eyes in what could be called a prayer. “A carer at the Inn at Journey’s End by the name of Tesleen. She was Alisaie’s friend and she turned into a Sin Eater when she tried to save a child. We fought her in Holminster Switch. It was her… I’m sure of it.”

“I see. That explains why Alisaie was so…” A moment of grief settled upon them then. Tesleen’s fate was far from unique and the Crystal Exarch himself had been forced to put down someone—someone he had known—who had been turned on more than one occasion.

“Lord Exarch?”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to thank you. For suggesting that we keep my involvement in the Lightwarden’s defeat a secret. I knew it was a pragmatism that drove you, but I would have preferred it that way regardless.”

Pragmatism was not the sole reason for his suggestion, but he nevertheless chose not to correct her on that assumption. Those many, many years ago, when he had met a hero who seemingly walked right out of his childhood storybooks, he had been shocked to discover that in reality she had been rather ill-at ease with her newfound fame. He had always intended to gauge how much that had changed—if at all—before making a decision on whether or not to make her identity as the fabled Warrior of Darkness public and it was a great relief to know that he had made the right one.

“You are very welcome,” he replied. “There are no words to express my gratitude for what you have agreed to do for me—for the people of this world. The least I can do is ensure you are not burdened with anything less that what is necessary.” Though it seemed it was normal for her to take on more than what was asked of her. Not only did she slay the Lightwarden, but she had also tended to the wounded in the aftermath alongside the Crystarium’s healers and chirurgeons.

“I will not let you down.” She turned to gaze back at the moment for a moment before saying. “I believe I will turn in for the night. My battles here have just begun.”

The Crystal Exarch nodded and gave her a low bow ere she could depart. “Goodnight, Estrild. Sleep well.”

[justnerdthings]

Frigid Heart Ch. 6

F!Reader x Bi-Han

Bi-Han finally gives you a name! Also, drama!

@poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @whitelotusfighter @icy-spicy @crazytxgradstudent @d-taslim @bihansthot @legends-of-apex @lilliannmac @missroro @shang-hung

Bi-Han’s eyes slowly opened. Vision blurred again. But this time he recognized his surroundings and the ceiling he stared at. Stone masonry. He was in the Lin Kuei palace.

And he could breathe. Air, real air, felt so good. And his heart… he could feel it beating in his chest. It must have been a dream. It had to have been. He drew in a deep breath--as deep as he could before a sharp pain stung his side.

Hushed voices were all around him. The lanterns were low. What time was it? He moved to sit up, but immediately regretted it as pain shot through his chest. He grunted and let himself back down.

You had been sleeping only a few feet away, curled up on the bare stone floor when a gruff noise woke you. Your tired eyes opened to see your Master stirring. Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly sat up and moved to his side. “Master?”

His eyes opened again and shifted to your face. His brows knotted. You were there… Good. Then it really must have been a dream. He lifted a hand, surprised how much effort it actually took, and was secretly grateful when you took hold of it, allowing him to relax his arm. You frowned at him, at how weak he was. But he was alive. He would recover. You squeezed his hand gently. “You’re alright, Master,” you told him softly, watching his eyes close again. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. They said you’ll recover.” You lifted your free hand to brush it against his cheek gently… He was soaked in sweat and you wondered if that was normal for him. You hadn’t seen him sweat since you’d met him. Did cryomancers sweat? He didn’t even feel all that cold… Did… Did he have a fever? You frowned.

“Where is Kuai?” He rasped. His throat was so dry.

Your brows knotted. “Kuai?”

He was silent for a moment before sighing. Right, you didn’t know Tundra’s real name. Bi-Han was sure that you hadn't even known his own name. “Tundra,” he answered slowly.

Tundra. His real name was Kuai? You nodded, storing that bit of information deep in your memory. “He’s gone to help the others repair the village. He’s safe.”

Bi-Han seemed to relax further at the news, as if relieved. You watched him quietly before letting go of his hand. Eyes were on you. Servants and assassins were watching you. You felt your face grow hot.

Bi-Han's eyes had opened and shifted to your red face. A small grin tugged his lips. It only made your face redder and he chuckled weakly. "Interesting," he whispered, which made your brows knot in confusion. "For someone who runs so boldly into battle, you are quite timid."

Your jaw hardened. "This… I am not used to this, Master."

He grunted and shifted uncomfortably. "Stop calling me that."

You opened your mouth to protest, but decided against it. "What should I call you?"

"Anything else," he answered.

You frowned. That was unbelievably vague. Anything else? That could be… anything.

"Everyone calls you Sub-Zero," you said.

He nodded weakly. "My name is Bi-Han," he whispered.

You smiled. Somehow learning his name seemed a privilege. You bowed your head respectfully.

"What was your name in the Snow Ninja clan?" He asked.

You lifted your head to look at him curiously. "Y/N," you answered.

His eyes shifted from your face as he stared at the ceiling. "Do you like that name?" He asked.

Your brows knotted. That was an odd question. Did you like your name? How could you answer that? It was your name. It was the only name you've had. "I don't understand," you told him.

"Do you want to keep that name, or would you like a new one?" He asked, looking back to your face.

Oh… You had assumed he would just give you one. But here he was, asking if you wanted one…

“What would you have named me?” you asked curiously. If you liked it better than your name, you’d probably take it.

Bi-Han closed his eyes as he pondered for a moment. “Bao-Zhong,” He’d finally decided.

Your cheeks turned red at the name. You supposed the last bit was accurate… But that first part? Did he really feel that way?

His eyes had opened and looked to you. He grew amused at your red cheeks again. “Do you not like it?”

“Oh,” You straightened, then bowed your head again to him. “Yes, Master—” You stopped yourself. “Bi-Han,” you corrected yourself. “I do.”

“Will you take it?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

He gave another tired nod and a sigh left him as he relaxed. It suddenly hit you that the Grandmaster had wanted to know when Bi-Han woke. Your eyes widened. You’d nearly forgotten.

You signaled for a palace guard. He’d made his way over to you curiously. His arrival had caught Bi-Han’s attention.

“The Grandmaster wished to be notified when Sub-Zero woke,” you told the guard.

The guard nodded and looked to Sub-Zero. Bi-Han simply closed his eyes again as he rested. The guard looked back to you. “I will send word to The Grandmaster.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully with a small bow. The guard returned the gesture with a bow of his head and took his leave.

You sat with content at Bi-Han’s side as you waited for the Grandmaster. You watched Bi-Han’s chest rise and fall slowly with each breath he took. He looked so peaceful as he rested there. You wondered if he had fallen asleep again. What did he dream about? Were his dreams full of glorious battles? Or were they uneventful and mediocre? Did he dream about you? Is that why he thought you were valuable?

It wasn’t a long wait. The Grandmaster came and acknowledged you with a smile. You bowed your head to him. Lily hadn’t come along and you were grateful. You breathed in relief.

“Sub-Zero has woken?” He asked.

Before you could answer, his attention had shifted to Bi-Han, who had opened his eyes weakly.

“Ah. Good,” The Grandmaster nodded and stepped closer.

You moved to give them space, but Bi-Han’s hand reached for you. Your brows knotted, but you obeyed. You sat there with your head bowed as the Grandmaster looked between the two of you. A small smirk pulled at his lips, but he didn’t bring attention to you or Bi-Han’s seemingly growing feelings for you. He only turned his attention back to Bi-Han.

“Once again, Sub-Zero, your will to survive surprises me. How many close calls has it been now?” The Grandmaster said with a playful tone.

“Too many,” Bi-Han breathed, before succumbing to a small coughing fit. The Grandmaster didn’t seem concerned with it.

“As I understand, it seems your servant here was the one to save you this time.”

Bi-Han’s brows knotted as he looked over to you. You were glancing at him out the corner of your eye, but quickly looked away as you noticed his gaze shift to you.

“Ah, a modest one. How refreshing,” the Grandmaster said. “Do you not remember, Sub-Zero?”

“I do not… the last thing I remember—” He paused. Bi-Han couldn’t remember much of anything other than that dream. He frowned in his own defeat.

“I’m sure it will come back to you,” The Grandmaster assured him. “Your house has been repaired. Though, I understand your dinner has been ruined.” The Grandmaster looked back to you. “I will send a replacement when you are ready.”

Your cheeks flushed as you nodded and bowed gratefully.

“Can you walk?” The Grandmaster asked, looking back to Bi-Han.

Bi-Han sighed, as if dreading the thought of it, but began to push himself to sit up. His face showed his discomfort. You could see just how much he was struggling. You thought of offering to help him, but something told you not to. As if to save Bi-Han some face, you averted your eyes as he grunted through his pain as he finally managed to sit up. A shallow breath escaped him. He was already exhausted.

You peeked back to him. His eyes were on you as he tried not to take too deep a breath. You could see now, as the sheet covering him had fallen from his chest, that he was wrapped tight in bandages. Glancing back to his eyes, he nodded towards the clean robe which had been dropped off earlier. You quickly grabbed it and carefully helped him slip into the long robe.

The Grandmaster watched, hiding his amusement behind a stone face. Sub-Zero had always been a fighter. He’d fight death itself it seemed. That was precisely why The Grandmaster was so concerned with him. Sub-Zero reminded him so much of himself.

Despite his stubbornness, Bi-Han knew he wasn’t going to be able to get up on his own. He sighed in his defeat. He looked back to you. He didn’t have to ask, the look on his face was enough. Shifting behind him, you gently wrapped your arms under his. After making sure you weren’t hurting him, you gave him a small count off before pushing yourself up with your legs, doing your best to support Bi-Han’s weight as well as you pulled him up with you. Once about half-way up, Bi-Han managed to get his feet under him and help take most of his weight off you.

Once he was up, you kept your eyes averted as he put a hand on your shoulder to steady himself and straighten out. You caught glance of the Grandmaster, smirking at you, before he looked back to Bi-Han. “Do you require a walking stick?” The Grandmaster offered, but even you could hear the teasing that lurked in his tone.

Bi-Han let go of your shoulder with a grunt and made to take a step. You felt your heart skip a beat as he stumbled, but managed to catch himself. The scowl on Bi-Han’s face made the Grandmaster chuckle and nod. The Grandmaster gestured for the door with an outstretched arm. Bi-Han looked in the direction.

The door was on the other side of the large room. And before you could offer to help him, Bi-Han had started to shuffle his way towards it, refusing any more help. That didn’t stop you from staying close behind him. You watched him carefully. Your body was tense, heart pounding in anticipation of him misstepping and falling.

But he didn’t. He’d made it to the door. A guard had opened it for the both of you. You gave the guard a bow of your head. Once in the hall, and the door shut behind you, you heard a heavy breath escape from Bi-han before he put a hand on the stone wall and leaned against it.

You moved to his side. “Don’t push yourself,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

He shook his head. “I can’t let him see me weak.”

“You almost died,” you reasoned. “I’m sure he—” You stopped when you caught his stern eyes. You straightened. You gave him a single nod. “Take your time,” you said then, and he seemed to relax with your words.

After a few moments, he began walking again, using the wall for support. You didn’t leave his side.

Outside however, Bi-Han was without a wall to support himself. He put a hand on your shoulder again. You let him use you to support himself as you both made your way back to his house. You didn’t notice anything new about it, the repairs had been seamless. The Lin Kuei must have had some remarkable builders.

Helping Bi-Han inside, he let go of your shoulder to use the walls again. Once you shut the door and locked it, you followed him as he made his way to his room. You helped him lower himself to his bed.

“Thank you,” He said, barely above a whisper. Your eyes shifted up to his. You weren’t sure he’d ever said those words before, they sounded so strange coming from his mouth. But you didn’t mention it. You just nodded to him.

“Rest for now,” You told him. You helped him lay back and pull over his covers. You sat on the edge of his bed. He didn’t protest in the least and closed his eyes.

It didn’t take long for Bi-Han to drift back to sleep. You had sat on the edge of his bed for a moment longer before moving to the kitchen. There was black markings all over the place. Apparently a fire had broken out in the chaos. Thankfully, it didn’t spread to the rest of the house. You sighed at the mess however. This would take hours to clean.

A knock had pulled your attention. You looked up from scrubbing the floor. Who could that possibly be at this hour? You could have sworn most of the assassins had turned in for the night and would get back to work in the morning. You pushed yourself up and wiped your hands on a towel. Knocks came again before you could get to the door. Hopefully they weren’t loud enough to wake Bi-Han.

You opened the door a crack and peeked out. The dirt covered face of Kuai stared back at you. Your brows bunched as you opened the door for him. He stepped in, covered from head to toe in dirt. “What have you been doing…” You mused as you shut the door behind him.

“Where is he?” Kuai asked, voice rough.

“Resting. Do not disturb him,” You told him.

Kuai’s brows rose. “Are you ordering me?”

You gave him a stern look. He grinned and headed for the kitchen, trailing dirt through the house. You sighed. More cleaning. You followed him.

“Why are you here?” You asked Kuai as he sat at the table, taking note of the burned marks. “Don’t lean on that. It’s unstable,” you warned him.

“I was burying our dead,” he answered. Your brows knotted again. “Did you not ask what I was doing?” He asked. Oh, right. You nodded with a sigh. “My house had burned down,” he’d then added, answering your other question. “I would have stayed in the palace, but I never liked staying there… Too many eyes.”

You nodded and moved to the sink. A basin of clean water was in it. You took a clean cloth and wet it. You moved to Kuai and offered it to him. He took it and wiped his hands clean. “Should I set out a couple bed rolls for you and Snowflake?” You offered.

Kuai shook his head. “Just one,” he said and used the rag to wipe the dirt from his face. You looked to him with confusion, but as he looked back to you, you suddenly understood… One bed roll… all the dirt… ‘burying our dead…’ You frowned and bowed your head respectfully.

“My condolences,” you said gently.

Kuai sucked in a breath. “Do not concern yourself with her. There’s nothing you can do.”

But guilt had already taken hold of you. Maybe if you had just stayed at the bath house, you would have been able to save Snowflake. Maybe the others? You hadn’t seen any of them since that morning. “If I had stayed at the bath house—”

“If you had stayed at the bath house, then my brother may have perished instead.”

You fell silent. You supposed he was right. You sighed heavily in your defeat.

“How did you command the beast?” Kuai asked, looking into your eyes, as if trying to find some secret. You’d turned your head away and he reached out to grip your arm tightly, almost threateningly. “What did you do?!” He demanded.

You gasped and tried to pull away from him, but his entire hand was big enough to completely close around your arm and he wasn’t letting go. “Please, Tundra… Let me go,” you plead as fear began pumping through your veins.

“What did you do?” He demanded again and easily yanked you back towards him.

“I didn’t!-- Please!”

Kuai wasn’t having it. He knew you had done something. He didn’t know what, but he’d been suspicious the moment you’d stood up to that ice beast and didn’t have so much as a scratch from the encounter. How had you gotten out without being harmed? How had everyone else gotten harmed or killed. But not you?

“Kuai!”

Kuai’s eye shifted up to look beyond you. You turned your head to look back. Bi-Han was leaning against the wall, pain covering his face under the glare he was giving his brother. Kuai looked to you, then practically threw your arm back at you. You quickly backed away from him, well out of his reach.

“She did something,” Kuai said, looking back to his brother.

Bi-Han kept his eyes on Kuai, but spoke to you. “Did you do something, Bao-Zhong?”

Kuai shifted uncomfortably hearing your new name, he looked back to you.

You shook your head, “No… I… I just spoke to it.”

Kuai scoffed. “You commanded it!”

“No--I…” You frowned and caught Bi-Han’s curious eyes now locked on you. “I… I just told it to stop…”

“And it listened,” Kuai added.

Bi-Han was looking back and forth between you two. He knew what Kuai was accusing you of.

“I’ve never known Ice Beasts to be that violent,” you told them.

“So you communicate with them regularly?” Kuai interrogated.

You were panicking. Now you were catching on to the accusation. “I didn’t do this. I swear!”

“You’re the only one unscathed!” Kuai shouted.

“No! No! That’s not true! It was attacking me too!” You plead.

“And yet there is not a scratch on you!” Kuai countered.

“I just…” Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks now. “I didn’t cause this!”

“What happened?” Bi-Han asked, trying to keep his voice clear and calm. “Why would an Ice Beast listen to you?”

“Do… Do they not listen to you?” You asked them, but they just gave you bewildered expressions. “They… We…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “In the Snow Ninja clan, they help us. We have them do the work that would take several of us to do… They protect us…”

“You enslaved them?” Kuai asked in disbelief.

“They made life easier…”

“Like horses?” Bi-Han asked.

“Yes.”

Bi-Han and Kuai exchanged looks before looking back at you. “Did you know the one who attacked us?” Kuai asked.

You shook your head.

“And you did not command these Ice Beasts to attack the village?”

“No.”

“Then why did they attack?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I thought the Lin Kuei had killed all the Ice Beasts in my old village. The one that attacked us… There was something in its eyes… Something unnatural… Like it wasn’t in control.”

“What are you saying?” Bi-Han asked.

“It was as if… it was under a spell,” you answered.

“A spell?” Kuai said, looking back to his brother. Bi-Han looked just as confused. “Who would put a spell on an Ice Beast to destroy our village?”

“We have no shortage of enemies, Kuai,” Bi-Han reminded him.

“Please. Believe me. I did not bring them here,” You plead again.

Kuai had side-eyed you, not entirely convinced.

“I do believe you,” Bi-Han reassured you. Kuai stared back to his brother in disbelief. “You would not have saved me if you had sent them to destroy us. You would have ran in the chaos,” Bi-Han reasoned.

The tension that was building in your shoulders had melted away. Bi-Han believed you. And he had been right. If you had gotten the Ice Beasts to attack the village, you certainly would have run. And you certainly wouldn’t have saved Bi-Han or Kuai.

[empressapprentice]

Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

[cranetreegang]

The Hardest Things are the Honest Truths: Lucio x FemApprentice

A/N: So, I love Lucio. I don't know why, but I just do. I wish there were more scenes of him reflecting on his past though. So that's what this is. Just a brief roast session with some fluff afterwards. RIP my poor baby boy... but he gotta hear it. I have some more parts for Lucio that I'll hopefully post soon. I've also been working on a Julian piece that I'm really excited to share soon! Anyways, any feedback is always welcomed!

Summary: The Apprentice, Evie, wonders if she made a mistake binding herself to Lucio. She hopes that her faith in him isn't misguided, and seeks consul from those who knew him.

Word Count: 2300

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I watched Lucio play with his two dogs with a hint of a smile. Seeing him like this almost made the earlier fiasco seem misplaced. The look of disappointment in Asra’s eyes was not something I could shake off though. Had I really made such a grievous error in binding myself to Lucio?

“You seem troubled.” Nadia had managed to stand next to me without me noticing. I hid my surprise well and I nodded quickly.

“There’s a lot about magic I’m still learning. I think today just proved it.” I said.

“Mistakes happen. Although, this mistake was a fairly large one.” She smirked.

I let out a defeated sigh. “Indeed it is.” I agreed.

She frowned then turned around to leave. “I recommend the bath house. It might serve you well to help clear your head.” Nadia said over her shoulder as she left.

It didn’t take a genius to get the hint. Lucio, still distracted with his dogs, didn’t notice Nadia and I’s exchange. I bit my lip on whether to let him know I would need some time alone. I figured he wouldn’t care, so I headed towards the bath house.

I got to the marble room and was taken aback by its grandiose. The room had pillars at the far edge that overlooked the city below. The sun was beginning to set, giving the steaming waters a warm evening glow. Smells of lavender and incense filled the air and I felt my shoulders begin to drop. A bath was a good idea after all.

I stripped myself of my clothes and sank below the warm waters. I emerged with a relieved sigh. I went back under the waters then emerged once more. I faced back towards the entrance and froze at the sight of Lucio.

I dove under to hide my bare self. “What’re you doing here?” I hissed.

Lucio gave a dazzling smile that I was sure won over his fair share of enemies. “I was wondering where you went. I got worried.” He said; seemingly genuine.

“So, you thought it best to just watch me as I bathed?” I grimaced.

“What? No! I only just arrived. I swear.” He had his hands up covering his eyes, but he lowered them with a smirk. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything to be embarrassed about. You have a very... ,” he paused, his glowing eyes dancing with want, “beautiful body.”

I felt the heat of his words overcome the warmth of the waters. Before I could say anything, the doors opened.

“Evie!” Portia greeted with a beaming smile. She walked past where Lucio stood. I wasn’t sure how to warn Portia of Lucio’s presence. She didn’t give me room to talk as she launched into a story about her day and began to undress. She joined me in the bath and sat across from me.

I nodded along with her story, but would steal glances towards Lucio, who seemed content with sitting at the bath’s edge. His feet kicking in the water absentmindedly.

“And then they expect me to clean it all up! It’s outrageous.” Portia huffed.

“Couldn’t agree more.” I debated about leaving when the door opened once more and Nadia strolled in. Even in the steaming waters, my body had gone cold. She spared Portia and I a raised brow.

“I’m to assume the Count isn’t here?” Her question had an edge that made me inwardly flinch. Lucio was shaking his head while mouthing, ‘Don’t say I’m here.’, as if anyone but me could hear him.

“The Count? As in, Count Lucio?” Portia wondered.

I spared her an awkward smile. “You and I both had a long day.” I bit my tongue for a moment. If I say he’s here, then Portia would be upset with me. If I lie, then that could be even worse. “I don’t see Lucio here in the bath with us.” A semi-lie, but better than the truth. He technically wasn’t in the bath with us. Lucio gave me a pleased grin, which I tried to ignore.

Nadia nodded before disrobing. She held herself regally and effortlessly as she glided into the bath. I was envious of her ability to be noble in practically any setting. Lucio’s eyes were eagerly trailing after her. His hand reached out to touch her, but he resisted at the last moment.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking full use of the bath house, Evelyn.” Nadia sat between Portia and I. She swirled her white wine in a glass that probably cost more than anything I had ever owned.

“It’s quite nice. Very relaxing.” I hummed. At least it would be relaxing, if Lucio wasn’t hovering around us.

“So, what’s this about Count Lucio? What’s going on?” Portia inquired.

Nadia smirked as she rolled her head over to me. “Go on. Explain what you did.” Her voice purred.

“Yes! Tell them how you rescued me from that awful room.” Lucio encouraged.

I let out a quiet sigh. “I was investigating the Count’s murder. And… I ended up finding Lucio still in his room.”

“He was alive?!” Portia screeched then covered her mouth at her outburst. “I mean, was he alive?” She said, her voice muffled behind her hands.

I shook my head. “Not exactly. He was stuck between the world of the living and death. So, I… helped him by…,” I bit my lip and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Porita’s curious gaze.

“Go on. Tell her.” Lucio was now laying behind me. He had his head propped up by his golden arm while his other hand swirled in the water next to me.

“I bound Lucio to me.” I finally said.

“You did what?!” Portia exclaimed. “Did he threaten you? Was he going to hurt you if you didn’t?”

“Hurt you! I can’t believe she would suggest such a thing.” Lucio scoffed.

I shook my head. “No. He didn’t. I was just trying to help.”

Nadia let out a chuckle between her sips of wine. “And now you have Lucio attached to you. I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

Portia nodded in agreement. “And I thought my day was bad. You clearly win, Evie.”

Nadia and Portia both giggled. Lucio plopped down next to me with a disgruntled huff.

I bit my lip as I looked between Lucio and Nadia. For everyone reacting like this, one would assume I had shackled myself to the most vile man in existence.

“Nadia… I hope you don’t think of this as inappropriate. But, I was hoping you could tell me about Count Lucio.” I said.

Nadia and Portia exchanged glances to one another, concern spread across both of their faces.

“You don’t even know who I am?” Lucio sputtered before calming down. “Oh, sweet Evie, I could tell you all about me. It’s my favorite subject, you know. ” He ran his finger down my shoulder to my elbow. He pressed his nose against my hair as he whispered, “You need only ask.” I had to contain the way his ghostly touch made me shiver. I was thankful he moved away from me, but he was still too close for comfort.

“Quite amazing. You bound yourself to someone you didn’t even know. I can’t tell if you’re naïve, idiotic, or selfless.” Nadia’s eyes were downcast. “But, I suppose if you did know, you wouldn’t have done it.” She swirled her glass in thought. The setting sun glinted against the fine crystal, making it dazzle. “I don’t recall much of my time with him. But, from what I remember, Lucio was… how to best put it?” Nadia hummed in thought.

“An Egomaniac?” Portia blurted out then covered her mouth again. “I’m so sorry, your grace.”

Nadia laughed and nodded. “No. That’s exactly it. Selfish. Entitled. Volatile.”

“Rude. I heard he loved to throw things at the servants anytime he was annoyed.” Portia chimed in.

Out of the corner of my eye, Lucio was completely taken back by their words. I felt a bit sorry for him. “He doesn’t sound like a good person.” I sheepishly said.

“That’s because he wasn’t, sweetheart.” Nadia chuckled. “He was only interested in what best served him. He didn’t care about what I, or anybody else wanted. Especially not the people of Vesuvia. Even though he claimed otherwise. His incompetence has led to a decline in the city, that I’m now having to fix. ” She scoffed. “The only thing he might’ve really cared about were his dogs. If that.” Nadia took a long sip of her wine, the cup was nearly finished.

“He cared about his hair.” Portia giggled.

“Ha! Yes. His looks. I will admit, he was very easy on the eyes. And very, very nice in bed.” Nadia had a playful smirk toying on her lips. “Although, needy. I couldn’t have any fun without him. He was always so desperate for any kind of attention.”

Lucio crossed his arms in an obvious pout. I felt their words slicing into me as if they were speaking ill of me.

“Surely, there must’ve been something about him that wasn’t completely terrible?” I asked, begged really, for any kind of redemption for him.

Nadia frowned, her mind years away. “If there was, I don’t remember." She met my eyes with a soft smile. "Perhaps, you’ll find something in him worth saving. Because I never could.” She finished her glass then rose from the warm waters. “All this talk of my dear husband makes me in need of another bath.”

She stalked out of the water and put back on her silk robe. She spared me a sideways glance. “If Lucio were a whore, I would’ve paid good money for him.”

“And as a Count?” I wondered.

She smiled, the answer laid within her ruby eyes, before she sauntered away.

Portia also got out of the bath. “I suppose that was a long enough soak. You coming?”

I looked from her then down to the deflated form of the Count. “Not yet. I need a few minutes to process… well all of it.”

Portia gave me a pitying smile. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out. Don’t fret!” She smiled sweetly at me. She left the room and I was alone with Lucio, who was sulking next to me.

“That was pretty brutal. Are you alright?”

Lucio’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “I was alone in that room for three years. Not one person came to see me. Not one. And to find out it was because they all despised me.” His head fell and he looked on the verge of tears. I placed my hand on his. The energy between us briefly merged together and he jolted in place.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his glowing eyes wide with suspicion.

“I… trying to… comfort you?” I felt silly as I explained myself. He stared at our hands then back to me.

“I don’t need your pity.” He spat.

“I’m not pitying you.” I quickly said. “I’m empathizing. What they said, I could feel that it hurt you.”

“You felt…,” he let out a huff as he rolled his eyes, “Of course you did. This bond we share. Seems we’re more linked than I originally thought.” Lucio frowned.

“Seems so.”

There was a long pause between us. I wasn’t sure how to break it, but Lucio did it for me. “Do you think less of me now? Do you think I’m a-a-a self-centered, idiotic, whore?” Lucio snarled with disgust.

“Were you?” I asked.

He looked offended then grimaced. “I… I didn’t think so. I don’t know.” He was quiet as he hesitated on what he wanted to say. “Being alone in that room… I didn’t have much else to do, except think. And the only thing I could think about was if things went… differently. ”

“What would you of’ve done differently?” I wondered.

He wrapped my hand with his and stroked over the top with his thumb. He let out a sigh then whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you don’t think you’re an incompetent whore, then what do you think of yourself?” I asked.

Lucio stared into the sunset as he thought over my question. “I’m not sure.”

I furrowed my brows as I thought over what to say next. He was lost. A feeling I recognized all too well. “I see it as you have two options. You can either pout and deny what they said. Or, you can accept that you lost yourself at some point. And do something about it.” I stated.

“Pout or change.” He chuckled, but it was bitter and didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at me. “What should I do?” He asked quietly.

I was surprised he would ask me, a stranger by all accounts, for advice. “I don’t believe you want to be all those things they said.” I confessed.

His brows rose. “You don’t? How? It seems to be the common opinion of me around here.”

I bit my lip as I wrestled with my confliction to tell him the truth or not. But, the truth was what he needed right now. “I believe you’re capable of changing. I don’t think you’re truly evil at heart. I think you care about more things than yourself. I believe you can take accountability for your past actions, and move towards a better future.” I paused before adding, “But, you’re the only one who can make that choice. No one else can. I can help you, but I can’t force you to change. That’s something you’ll have to do.”

Lucio was silent, pondering over my words. “That’s quite an optimistic vision you have of me.” Lucio’s eyes fell and he leaned his head on my shoulder. “Perhaps I can try to make it come true.” He whispered.

“I want to help you.” I whispered back to him. “We’re in this together now.”

“Mhm… together.” He squeezed my hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

“Me either.” I whispered.

He moved closer to me with a soft sigh. “Stay with me a while longer?”

“Of course.” I laid my head against his and we watched the sun dip below the horizon.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

The things we never tell.

[[Zuko x Reader]]

Summary: After the war Y/N strays away from her friends, and her relationship with Zuko seemed everytime more distant, slowly she starts to fall into a darker place.

A/N: I took a very extensive but very needed break, I’m incredibly sorry to anyone who sent me a request before I disappeared and was left waiting for me to post it but my mental health was not the best during this past few months and it’s been hard to do anything at all. But I’m back and I hope writing again gives me a sense of purpose or something lol. Talking about mental health, this fic talks about heavy topics like depression and isolation, if you’re not confortable with that or are going through this stuff I recommend skipping this one, I will have lighter fics coming soon. Remember you are never alone, no matter how much you feel like it. There’s always someone to reach out to or ask for help.

Requested: Yes!!!! By a lovely blog that deactivated but went by the name of aristasiaclarke :( (yes that’s how long I’ve been away) But side note, if you sent me a request before my break and would still like me to write it send it to me again I’d be more that happy to do it!

Warnings: Depression, Anxety, Isolation, Angst

~IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS DONT HESITATE TO ASK ~

The war was over, it had been for months now, yet some things hadn’t gone back to normal . You decided to stay in the palace after Zuko was crowned since your relationship with him had only grown stronger by being so close to losing eachother. Your friends on the other hand all went their separate ways. The friend group you’d spent so many days with, planning on how to defeat the firelord, training, camping, going on missions, it all became just memories and it had been so long since you’d all been together last. You couldn’t complain though, you understood after everything that had happened all your friends were left with many responsibilities laying on their shoulders and, in a way, none of you were the same kids you were when this adventure started. You had all grown up.

Zuko and you spent a lot of time together those first few months since you moved in, that period of time when his people understood his need to settle into his position and take charge of his nation, but after that was over the workload was relentless, Zuko had been left with a broken nation and the full responsibility of fixing it. At first he always made sure to eat every meal with you, chat and update you on everything new that had happened, little by little he started to miss lunch and then it was dinner, soon breakfast and any midday break was gone as well. It came to a point where you rarely saw him at all, him working so late you were usually asleep by the time he came to bed, if he did at all, and you waking up to an empty bed every morning.

Slowly but surely a feeling you knew all too well started reappearing in your chest, something you hadn’t felt in years and were too scared of to even acknowledge. You tried to figure out what to do with all the free time you had in your hands so the feeling wouldn’t consume your mind, you remodeled at least fiver rooms in the palace, picked up several hobbies, offered your help to servants all around just to be rejected, anything and everything your mind could think of, but nothing was enough. That darkness and emptiness inside of you seemed to be determined to conquer your every waking moment once again.

Last time this happened you had your old friends around you, back at home. You family did everything they could to help you, and little by little you learnt how to heal. But this was different, all you had now were empty hallways that lead to even emptier rooms, and the ones that weren’t empty you weren’t permitted to go into.

Days were longer and shorter at the same time; on one hand, a day seemed to last ages, all you did was wait til night fell so you could go back to bed and rest, on the other you started spending more time inside your room, taking naps here and there turned into sleeping most of your days, taking baths became a task harder than any of the ones you’d had to complete in your adventure days, the curtains stayed closed and the bed unmade, day and night slowly started to blend in together.

Servants noticed first, they knocked on the door several times a day to ask if you needed anything at all, to which you would always answer no. When you stopped going to the dinner hall they started to bring food to you, most of which you didn’t eat. One too many times they even had to drag you to the bath so they could get a chance to clean your room.

It was your personal maid who had decided to finally bring in the palace medic. After running some tests on you he concluded there was nothing wrong with you and all it could be was hormonal changes. But hormonal changes weren’t supposed to last weeks, not to mention months.

The maid tried encouraging you to go out to town, visit some new boutique that had opened or a restaurant with great reviews, but all you ever said was “maybe tomorrow”. She came to understand that tomorrow wouldn’t come.

—————————

One day she decided to not stand by and witness a girl who had once been the light in every room wither away. It took all her courage to approach the fire lord,. Even though she knew of his kindness and how different he was from his predecessor he was still an intimidating ruler.

“Fire lord” she called as the young man walked through the palace surrounded by his officials, discussing some political matter she assumed. He didn’t seem to hear her so she sped up and stood in front of the group of men.

“I’m sorry but any issue at the moment will have to wait, important matters need to be addressed with urgency.” He informed her with his usual formal tone.

“Your majesty, it’s miss Y/N, she-” the maid started but was soon interrupted

“Yes, well if she requires my presence please inform her I’m occupied at the moment, but whatever she needs she can ask the help to do it for her.” Zuko attempt to walk past her but the maid stopped him once again.

“Your majesty, I hope I’m not being too bold but I don’t think you understand, she’s very unwell.” the maid saw as Zuko was about to protest her audacity, but once his eyes fell on her he seemed to realize the seriousness of the matter.

Zuko’s heart sank, all kinds of thoughts went through his head, had you gotten injured? Had one of the rebellious groups he’d been dealing with infiltrated the castle and taken you? had you fallen ill with a terrible condition? He soon turned to his second in command and said “You can take charge from here”

The man rather surprised replied after a few seconds “Your majesty, this matter requires your presence, it can not wait.”

“Well it will have to, I’m going to be unavailable the rest of the day. I’m sure you all can manage without me.”

———————

Nothing could’ve prepared Zuko for the sight he encountered when he entered the royal chambers. He hadn’t sleept there a few nights in a row, not wanting to wake you up at late hours when he was done with his workload of the day, but even when he did sleep there he was too tired to even notice anything wrong. Now, at broad daylight, he saw it all.

You were cuddled up under the covers, your hair matted and messier than ever, very dark under eye bags and an extremely pale complexion, even laying down and under blankets and covers he could tell you’d lost a worryingly amount of weight. He’d never seen you in such state.

“What happened to her? Is she ill?” Zuko asked the maid who stood next to him.

“The medic has been called, your majesty, he wasn’t able to point out anything wrong with her. Said it was just hormonal changes, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.” she said softly.

“Well then bring another doctor in. Someone has to know what’s wrong.”

“Yes, your majesty, we’ll being someone else in first thing tomorrow.” she bowed and was about to leave the room when the firelord stopped her.

“Thank you... for bringing this to my attention and for looking after her.”

The maid just bowed once again and made her way out of the room. Zuko walked up to you, your eyes were closed and even in your sleep an uneasy expression was plastered on your face.

“Love...” he cooed stoking the side of your face slowly. “Hey, darling... wake up.”

He made sure to rest his hand on your forehead to see if you had a fever, but on the contrary you were rather cold. You barely opened your eyes, but it was enough for Zuko to see how the light that had once been there was now gone.

“Zuko?” you asked, your voice barely audible and raspy as you tried to blink the sleepiness away slowly.

“Hey, do you feel sick Y/N? Does anything hurt?” Zuko’s hand had moved from your forehead to your cheek and his thumb was now sweetly caressing your skin.

You hadn’t felt a loving touch in what felt like so long, you’d almost forgotten that you could feel something good and not painful. It was all it took for tears to slowly start forming in your eyes and eventually rolling down your face.

At the sight of your partner’s concern, you forced yourself to smile a little and respond “Nothing hurts.”

“Y/N... something’s not right. I’ve never seen you like this before, i need you to tell me what’s going on.” Zuko’s voice was almost breaking, you could tell how hard he was trying to be strong and keep collected for you, this broke your heart even more.

You took in a deep breath, your mind running while trying to find an answer for him. You knew what was wrong, you’d ignored it so far, pushed it away even though it now consumed your every waking moment, but you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. “I don’t feel well, Zuko. I haven’t for a while now.”

“Are you ill? We’ve called a doctor already, he should be-” He said before you cut him off.

“Zuko... It’s not that kind of unwell.” you almost whispered. “A doctor can’t help me with this.”

The firelord seemed lost for a while, not quite sure of what you meant. You took a second before sitting up on the bed and pressing your back against the headboard. You decided to recount the events of the last time you’d gone through this to him, every sleepless night and every full of sleep day, the multiple crying sessions, the pain and hopelessness, the ever changing appetite, the heavy chest you couldn’t seem to get rid of. This was all terribly hard for you to do but needed to be done, for your sake and for his. Zuko didn’t seem to understand at first, his eyes looking at you attentively, waiting for the moment where the pieces of your story would fall into place. It took you saying how what was wrong with you wasn’t physical but rather emotional for him to get what you were referring to. His face had fallen into a heartbreaking expression, you didn’t know if it was guilt or pity or something in between.

Once you were done and the tears that pooled in your eyes while tellling your story had fallen, Zuko held your hand tightly. “This is all my fault. You should’ve been my priority.”

“Zuko...no. This isn’t your fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” You assured him as your hand went up to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry. You shouln’t have had to deal with this alone. You were there for me when no one else was and I want to do the same for you, always.” He tilted his head into your palm before turning slightly to kiss it.

“I’d like that... I really would.”

For the rest of that night, you and your partner opened up to each other like you’d never had before. For the first time since the war had ended you didn’t feel so alone, you were together and that made you feel like you had the strength to get better, maybe not today or in the days to come, but someday. He gave you hope.

[missinghan]

in the eye of heaven ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : unrequited love; dynasty au; fluffy angst

❖ word count : 7,4k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood, death & violence, no historical accuracy

❖ summary : when heartfelt takes over grief and jealousy, chan is willing to spend a lifetime waiting for you. if only you could do so much as acknowledging the yearning in his eyes.

❖ a/n : this fic’s spin-off with the same mc; set in an alternative universe where she didn’t reject jisung and became his queen.

❖ dedicated to @meiiyue​ : lau, know that i appreciate you more than you think, that you are loved because you’re so incredibly precious. you deserve the world and more! happy birthday queen ♡

one.

“Chan, I’m getting married soon.”

Chan looks away from the report in his hands, faint agony washes over the dark shade of his pupils, and his lips quiver ever so slightly. With a courageous inhale, he stares you down as the scroll in his hands tilt a fraction. Common senses kick him at the back of his head after a brief moment of eye contact. 

He smiles lifelessly, voice tender, “That’s great. Congratulations.” 

Oh good god, those were the most insincere words that have ever been blurted from his lips. And directed at the very person he adores the most too. His fingers clench at the edge of the piece of paper when you huff, inching closer to him. Chan feels his breath mingles in momentary surprise, his face mere inches from your delicate one. 

You really should know the kind of effects you have on his fragile heart. 

“You knew?” Your index finger pokes at his chest in slight annoyance, your brows furrowed. 

He gulps, “What?” Then, his eyes proceed to narrow at you softly upon realizing that you might have run from Jisung’s private palace to here and that you must have been so excited about the news that you’ve forgotten your coat and sword. A gust of wind flies by, tousling your scent into thin air that lingers inside his lungs, suffocating him internally. 

“Jisung told you he was going to propose, didn’t he?” you clarify your point. But Chan is only taking notice of the droplets sticking to your eyelashes, how your nose is a little red, and the area under your eyes is slightly swollen. 

“No, he didn’t,” he shakes his head and contemplates if he should be looking away, uncertain whether his gaze holds pain more than fondness. His hand reaches out to wipe the dampness away from your eyes but freezes midway at the sudden pang in his chest. Then his smile falls with a hidden grimace, arm dropped to the side in sheer defeat. 

You hum with your hands clasped behind your back, allowing him to breathe properly by pulling away. “How did you know then?”

“I just do. I knew it would happen.”

Yes. Indeed. 

Chan always knew it would happen. He’s not a fool after all. 

“Hmm, really? How come?”

Gaze falling back on the boring report in his hands, he quickly comes to realize that his undivided attention has been set elsewhere from the black ink letters and instead on your question. He almost bursts out laughing at it, if he dares to admit. 

How could he not know?

Starting with Jisung—the crown prince, you—an orphan getting adopted by the general and him—the general’s very own son being childhood best friends. Although from an outsiders’ point of view, you and Chan should be nothing but mere, shallow servants to the royal. That didn’t work out because of the oh so lovely Han Jisung. Thus, his plan to distance himself from you at the get-go was also ruined by the aforementioned royal and his father. 

Chan has been training with you for as long as he can remember to take your rightful positions as the protectors of the throne, setting the royal family’s safety as your top priority. Hence, spending an extended amount of time with each other is an easy, inevitable way for your friendship to blossom. Whether it’s him waking you up too early for practice or you getting caught by him for sneaking out late at night. There isn’t a single moment that Chan wasn’t there for you. 

Oh, but then there comes Jisung. 

Adding him to the equation makes Chan’s chest ache, sick dread gnawing at the pit of the stomach. However, he has never any sense of hatred toward the young royal. The prince was born on a starlit night, amid the remaining warmth from summer. Some say it became part of him, who he is. Chan saw that in him too—whenever coldness comes, he’s the warmth. He treats everyone with such grace as if he has all the time in the world for them, as if they really matter. 

Of course, being a youngblood, Chan can’t possibly miss out on his mischievous and playful behavior. Jisung would always get the three of you into trouble. And Chan would always try to save him from his father’s scolding while you’d be taking care of his wounds—resulting from so much climbing and falling. In those moments, he can say that there’s no person who has ever held you in his eyes the way Jisung does. 

The same way that Chan does. 

“I just do,” he cracks a small smile, ruffling your hair and immediately earning himself a smack on the chest. He sets the scroll neatly to the side before slipping off his silk coat. You can only chuckle at his attentive gesture and let him drape the piece of clothing over your shoulders, the sleeves looming over your knuckles. 

“Let’s go inside. This calls for a celebration. Just the three of us.”

You smile back. “Like we’ve always been?” And a swarm of butterflies comes to life inside his stomach. 

“Like we’ve always been.”

two.

Minho is munching on a few lotus seeds, occasionally sipping his tea in a bored manner as he witnesses Chan’s distress unfold right before his eyes. 

The younger’s eyes, wide with amusement and slight confusion as to why his friend is getting so worked up over something that you’ve said, stare the general’s son down in his bedroom. It only appears to Minho as another normal conversation between the two of you—the only difference is that you’re getting married to the crown prince. Chan has not told him, but his well-hidden feelings never go unnoticed to someone as detail-oriented as the royal physician. 

“So…” he swallows the current bite before dragging his words. “Just the three of us. Like we’ve always been?” His voice imitates Chan’s with an underlying tone of mischief.  

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose at that. “Ugh, how could I be so foolish and say that?”

“Ugh?” Minho nearly chokes on his drink, sets down his cup, and squints his eyes funnily at the elder, almost mockingly. “What’s wrong, Chan? Don’t you want the three of you to stay that way?”

“That’s the problem, we can’t stay that way. We can never,” Chan confesses with sorrow. 

“It’s getting cold. Let’s head inside.”

You pull him by the sleeve of his robe. “Oh, Chan. One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Will you walk me down the aisle?”

It’s quite possible for him to have stopped listening to Minho’s nagging after that. Your question, just that single sentence on a loop inside the void of his blackout mind. Will you walk me down the aisle? Will you walk me down the aisle? Will you walk me— He forces down a tired breath, face buried in the palms of his hands with heavy dread. 

“Are you certain about this?”

“More than ever.”

How could he possibly reject you when his eyes were focused all on you, head tilted and finding you still so close in a way that he’s afraid he might have forgotten how to breathe? How could he when his pinky instinctively was curled over your own as you made him accept your childish yet innocent, harmless vow? 

“Anything for you then.” 

“Promise?”

How can he ever reject you? 

“Promise.”

“That...and promise me that we won’t change. Not for anything.”

Chan can still feel his lips quiver as the ghost of your words crawls upon his spine like an ugly reminder that his feelings, in fact, have always been unattended for. 

“Promise.”

And that was the first time Chan has ever lied to you. 

three.

“Chan! Are you seriously not going to get ready—“

Minho comes barging into Chan’s room with his voice loud enough to wake the entire west wing of the palace, hand aggressively sliding the paper-lined door open in a not necessarily graceful manner. The general’s son does not bother to answer his friend, preferring to maintain his slouching posture by the window and stares off into the lake surface grazed with dozens of lotuses.  

He watches attentively as a delicate droplet glides down against the blush-colored petal, kisses the lake with poise before disappearing completely and leaving behind the most subtle amount of vibration. 

“Don’t just sit there, you fool,” the younger stops for a moment and proceeds on with his scolding. “You’re getting your robe all wrinkled! The ceremony is starting in another hour!” 

Chan did get ready. If he’s not mistaken, he must have been the earliest one to do so because sleep was out of the question for him last night. Conscience has never let him off the hook these past few days. Because he truly wants to be happy for you, like how a brother should. Because that is all he will ever be to you. A brother, or a childhood friend, or family, even. But when was the last time he’d gone to sleep without thinking about you?

“I don’t really care,” he says honestly with a muffled, sarcastic chuckle. 

“But you’re walking her down the aisle.”

The particular statement draws an immediate reaction from the elder, his head snapping toward his friend and his eyes narrowed down into a glare. “I know that, Minho,” Chan clenches his jaw.  

Minho straightens the fabric of his clothing before making eye contact with him. “Right, and you should know that your undeclared feelings for her must not interfere with one of the happiest moments in her life.”

“Shut it. Those words are giving me a headache.”

“What word? Undeclared feelings for her?”

Oh, Minho just pulled at another nerve right there. 

With a hushed, pained hiss, Chan finally gets off the spot he’s been stubbornly seated on since the break of dawn. The twitching tugging at the tips of his fingers definitely isn’t being helpful. Then, he lets himself fall back onto his bed, drawing a loud grimace from Minho and finally choosing to acknowledge his hatred toward his own feelings. After all, there is nothing wrong with loving someone, but how one loves them. 

“Chan. I understand. You’re in love with her. And she’s in love with Jisung. Not to mention, they’re getting married—“

“Shut-“

“No, you shut up!” Minho spats and shakes his shoulders harshly. “What’s so wrong with your feelings for her that you’re getting to this point of denial? So what if she doesn’t love you back? Are you going to choose the option of keeping on loving her or being a petty coward about it for the rest of your life?”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Chan feels like he’s about to collapse. 

“That’s right. Be speechless and listen to me—“

Little do they know, standing behind the door is you, mouth dry and pupils shaking in hesitation. You’re oddly frustrated when it comes to something as simple as opening the door. Your hand squeezes at the wooden edge, breathing jagged at the thought of facing Chan as though you haven’t known him for your entire life. Reminding yourself that no matter what, Chan is still Chan, that he’ll never change for anything. He promised you, right?

With a deep breath, you slide the door open and peek your head inside. “Look what I got you!” you say, shaking the tiny box in your hands. 

Chan abruptly shoots up from his bed the moment you fully step inside and shuts the door behind you. His heart melts for a fraction of a second, once again because of you, always been because of you. And because of you, the fear for his paradoxical love toward you gnaws at his chest, reminding him that it will never happen and that today is your special day. 

“I thought the bride shouldn’t be running around like this on her big day.” Comes a blunt comment that makes Minho’s expression turn sour. 

“Don’t listen to him. You look beautiful, Y/N,” the physician says with an awkward smirk before excusing himself from the scene. Silence fills up the air like an overflowed cup of wine, gripping at the vessels of your lungs.

You look at Chan, confused for a moment before staring down at yourself, completely oblivious about the wall that’s rapidly built up with his cold, hard feelings and he’s only able to allow himself a blank face. He knows one thing for sure that Chaeryeong—your handmaiden, won’t be the least happy knowing that the future queen of Goryeo is going around freely in her attire for the ceremony. 

Dressed in the finest robes made with the softest of linen and most vibrant dye, delicately lined with gold, embroidered with dragons, phoenixes, flowers and tainted with red for the royal. Your hair is still let down loosely, easily lending Chan the information that you must have sneaked out while getting ready. A waft of your scent creeps up his nostrils when you take small steps toward his table, gingerly placing the tiny box down and opening it for him to see. 

“Are you really going to complain about these?” you smile at him with your still-crystalline eyes. The same eyes that he can drown in the depth of their ocean for an eternity, the peak and end of his suffering all at the same time. He might as well surrender into that canvas full of stars and fall on buckling knees right now if you keep gazing at him that way. 

Upon his unresponsive state, you simply shake your head. “Serves me right for trying to do something nice to you,” you pretend to roll your eyes jokingly, easing the clearly noticeable tension.  

“My favorite childhood candies. You remembered,” Chan swallows the croaked sob that refuses to let loose inside his throat, lips cracking into a small grin. The tiny ray of hope in your orbs dies down like a blown-out candle; his intention is plain and clear—he wants to feel familiar with you again, he just isn’t capable. 

You puff out your cheeks, and if it weren’t for how heavy the air is, Chan would have allowed himself to laugh a bit at how adorable you are. You find yourself less frustrated but rather defeated. You aren’t completely oblivious about how he feels, you just learn how to ignore it until he musters up enough courage to tell you himself. 

You’re starting to doubt the fact that he would tell you anything. He used to, at least. 

“Chan… you do know that I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, right?” you say with tiny steps toward him. 

“Of course,” Chan replies, eyes cast downward so he won’t have to face you. 

You suggest, a hand reaching out to touch his cold one. “So, do you have anything to tell me before Chaeryeong barges in?”

Chan flinches as the warmth of your fingers burns his skin and retracts immediately as though you’ve hurt him. You blink in disbelief. For a moment, anger scratches at the back of your throat and disintegrates the next, leaving you with guilt like a block of cement forcing the air out of your lungs. Because you feel selfish for even letting yourself be angry at him when he’s not in his best mood. 

“No? Okay…” Sucking in a breath, you try to give him a small smile. “You’ll still walk me down the aisle, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I will.” 

You pause by the door before angling your head at him briefly, “I’ve been thinking… There are two things I’ve been wanting to tell you.” 

“Go ahead. I’m all ears and all yours.” He ignores the sudden spike within the rhythm of his heartbeat and tries to suppress the strangled noise lingering between his vocal cords. 

“Thank you.” Fists clenched at his sides, an impulsive statement threatens to spill from his lips at how shaky your voice is. “I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this is better than an inevitable heartbreak resulting from an inevitable rejection. Perhaps he should start learning how to unlove you. 

four. 

It catches Minho off guard when you approach him a few hours after dawn. During this certain period of time, you used to get yourself all huddled up at the East wing, attentively training soldiers with Chan. It is only recently (preferably after the wedding and your coronation) that he stops seeing you both together. 

Scanning the ebony table full of herbs and substances that you have absolutely no knowledge of, your eyes dart around one last time to confirm that no one else is here. With a strong heave of breath, you allow yourself to take a seat across the royal physician, cautious not to knock anything over. 

“Your Highness, my respects,” Minho stands up after a few seconds of processing the fact that you are now the queen of Goryeo. 

He was so used to associating you with armors and blades that his brain finds it weird to see you dressed in such a delicate robe. Something’s changed, though he can’t decipher if it’s good or bad. Your eyes don’t look as lively as they were before, and the effort of putting on a firm front as the queen seems to be draining. 

“Save it, I’m still not used to that,” you clasp your hands together neatly on your lap, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. 

“Fine,” Minho breaks into the usual catlike smile that you’re all too familiar with. “You look...unwell. Are you okay?” 

“No. I needed to ask you something, that’s all,” you shake your head. “I won’t be here for long.”

His expression turns crooked at the crack in your voice. A slight pout adores his lips, already guessing what’s bothering you and trying to come up with stories, or even whites lies to convince you that Chan does not hate you but at the same time not outright telling you that his stupidity is growing because he’s fallen head over heels for you. 

“I’m not busy at the moment, do tell me.” 

“Chan… has he been doing well? I haven’t seen him for weeks. Whenever I do try to meet up, he keeps pushing me away,” you voice sadly. “I know that ever since the wedding… things must have been hard for him. It’s taking a toll on me too. It hurts me to see him like this. He’s never been so out of reach, so.. illegible.” 

You internally cringe at how selfish your words are. But Minho doesn’t take it that way and instead, smiles at you politely, “Chan… has not talked to you during these past few weeks? Despite you both being inside the palace? Not even once?” Only now do you notice that the corners of his lips are twitching, in anger, you dare to assume. 

A small ‘no’ slips from your tired vocal cords. 

Minho wants to scream into the unknown void about how ignorant his friend can be when it comes to love but suppresses the annoyance to the pit of his stomach. He’s in fact trying to console you very delicately. The only problem is his nonchalant look is straight-up sending your paranoia flying off the moon when your emotions are a clustered mess at the moment. You’re not the type to rant but you’re perpetually overwhelmed, letting the agitation get the best of you and ceasing your ability to speak normally. 

“Well, isn’t he going to come hunting later tonight with you and His Majesty? Perhaps you can talk it out with him then?” Minho suggests, making a mental note for himself to whack some common senses into Chan later. 

“I know,” you wave your hands. “It’s just that. I’ve missed him. Very much.” 

The physician is about to reply but his mouth freezes midway when his gaze travels past your shoulders, catching a glimpse of the figure looming over yours, their eyes as cold as ice. 

“Seriously?”

“Chan?” you flinch with a hand flying to your chest in surprise. 

“Your Highness, the reason why we haven’t been able to meet up is that since you’re no longer part of the military regime, the amount of work is doubled up for me,” he says, not looking at you. “Who am I to make the queen of Goryeo do something as disgraceful as training soldiers?” 

“Disgraceful? That was my duty—“

He nods sternly, “Your duty now is to stay by the king’s side.” 

“I’ve always been by his side, and yours too! You know that, Chan,” you stand up in the fraction of a second, your sorrowful eyes trying to find his unresponsive ones. 

“Oh, and forgive me for being blunt but why would you bring this up to Minho? I thought you trusted me?”

“I do trust you.” You ball your fists uncomfortably. 

“Then why did you have to go to him?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your lips are sealed shut later, your mind screaming at him that you don’t like how he’s acting toward you. At the same time, it’s telling you that the root of the problem is you. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point, you really can’t blame him for being busy. You’re being nosy when you shouldn’t have. A queen shouldn’t be nosy in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before walking away hurriedly, head hung low in shame. 

In the distance, you can hear Minho yelling at Chan to hold you back. The conflict in his voice only shatters your heart, even more, the shards drawing red on your conscience. You don’t think you know who Chan is anymore. You feel suffocated to be within his presence. 

“You bastard, what were you thinking?” he comments with a brief glare. 

Chan protests dryly, eyes filled with exasperation, “You know nothing about us.” 

Minho grows speechless for half a second before scoffing, “I take that back. What a tremendous idea. This is brilliant. It’s truly brilliant!”

“I know.” 

five.

Jisung knows something was wrong when he couldn’t find you in your shared private palace. You were alone in the garden, cloudy eyes glued to the ground as your reclined figure rested on the rock bench in exhaustion. And when he finally came up to you, you broke down into a cluttered mess of incoherent sobs. It was heart-wrenching, life-threatening even. To him. 

Oh, and Jisung is furious, he is absolutely furious. 

Rain patters thickly against his umbrella, against the tiled roof of the pavilions and the cement of the courtyard. The ashy canvas that hovers all beings gets torn apart when lightning strikes right through it, thunder roaring in the distance. Everything perfectly resembles the hurricane that’s raging inside Chan’s rib cage. 

“Bang Chan!” 

Chan can recognize the voice in an instance. He can even pinpoint exactly why Jisung is here too. His hand which is resting comfortably on his sword loosens, dropping to the side as he contemplates whether he should turn around or ignore him and make a run for it. Talking to Jisung isn’t necessarily helpful for the mess inside his head right now. Not only does he not need to be reminded of you, but he also doesn’t need Jisung to lecture him about his ignorance when Minho already did plenty of times. 

The clouds inside his head aren’t fading away as he would like them to so before he can come up with a reasonable solution, Jisung has already grabbed him by the collar and dragged him under a tiled canopy where no one is around. It’s already late into the night, no one should be around at this hour anyway. The only surprising factor is that Chan makes no effort to pull himself from Jisung’s grip when he’s fully capable. 

“Your Majesty, you know you could have called for me in a less...violent manner,” he gathers himself, dropping the umbrella to smooth out his collar. 

Jisung spats, rage tugging at the nerves on his creased forehead, “And you knew you could have not said those words to her! You knew there was another way to fix things!” 

“I don’t see a point in trying to piece something back together when it’s already broken,” Chan momentarily rolls his eyes, voice filled with spite. 

“If you’re broken, we can help you. But you being broken doesn’t mean you have to break Y/N too,” Jisung says sternly, his words clear and menacingly. 

Chan’s heart involuntarily sinks in a beat. Even the slightest mention of your name makes him weak to his knees, urging him to dig himself a grave and hide in it for the rest of his life. When was the last time he ever spoke your name out loud? 

“I’m doing it so I can protect her! To protect you!” His voice raises into what seems like a growl, slightly getting drowned out by the sudden roar of thunder in the background. 

Jisung fully takes a moment to process his words, the disbelief flashing before his perplexed eyes makes Chan’s heart drop in shame for a mere second. The young king looks genuinely tired and baffled at his protest like he’s having a hard time coming up with an eloquent reply. Mad and defeated and irked. 

“And she loves you,” he smiles at his friend. It’s genuine, it baffles Chan, not surprisingly. 

He shakes his head in denial, “She does not—“

“She loves you very much.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

Through this thick darkness, Jisung can see right through Chan’s useless stone wall and pinpoint exactly why he’s been acting so irrationally. This isn’t about you becoming the queen. You were never the problem in the first place. But he feels bad for Chan at the same time because he finds something familiar about him, something that resonates within himself. 

“I love her too! But I’m afraid! Alright? I’m so stupidly in love with her that I might as well ruin everything for you both.” Everything eventually bursts out of his lips in a rushed confession. Chan can no longer speak after that. He’s never felt more helpless. 

A fang-like ray lights up inside Jisung’s round eyes. He gives Chan a rough shove on the shoulder, breath ragged in pure irritation and cynicism. “Shut it. You know nothing.” 

Chan does just that. He keeps his lips sealed. 

“Don’t pull her into your mess,” With every breath, Jisung consecutively points at his chest with an apologetic wash on his expression. “You’re the problem. Don’t you dare use your love for her as an excuse for your ignorant actions.” 

A weak whisper. “I was hurting. Do you know how much it hurts me?” 

“It’s supposed to hurt. It only hurts when you truly love someone.” 

“It must be nice to have that person love you back then.”

That is the breaking point of Jisung’s patience. At that moment, water finally tips over the cup and overflows, rage getting cuts on Jisung’s edges. He reaches out and strikes a harsh punch. When his fist collides with the flesh on Chan’s cheekbone, he’s sent flying to the ground. The bitter aftertaste makes Chan want to laugh at how pathetic he must have sounded but his jaw is wired shut at the sting from the blow. 

“Don’t ever show up in front of Y/N again,” Jisung snaps before turning on his back and striding away briskly. 

six.

Jisung doesn’t know how to feel as he stands in front of the wooden door of a cabin after almost a year since the incident. Guilt, that might be what it is. Because Chan took his words more seriously than he could ever imagine and chose to lock himself away from you, deep in the forest like a lone wolf. 

Get yourself together, he tells himself, Chan is still your friend. 

“Your Majesty?” Seungmin—his personal guard calls out to him when he’s starting to zone out. 

“I’m alright,” Jisung clears his throat before giving the door a firm series of knocks. Moments that seem like an eternity fly by and eventually, the door swings open. He wants to exhale out of relief when a familiar face comes into view. 

“Minho, I swear—“ Chan freezes midway, taking in Jisung, Seungmin, and a few other guards he easily recognizes from the palace. His expression falls flat, his gaze darkens, and his hand slams the door shut without a word. 

However, it gets stuck. Tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance, Chan averts his gaze downward and sees the tip of a leather boot. “Don’t be insufferable. We came for something important,” Seungmin says calmly but his eyes look like they’re about to set Chan on fire if he dares to try him. 

“Fine.” 

They all hear him murmur before letting go of the door, revealing the neat and cozy cabin inside. There’s a single bed, a fireplace, a slightly crooked table, and another door that leads to another room. Jisung sighs, a smile tugging at his lips upon seeing that Chan didn’t let himself go completely. The place is well cleaned, meaning he’s still strict with himself. 

“Why are you here?” 

Seungmin clicks his tongue at his rude remark, itching for his sword but Jisung outstretches an arm to hold him back. He allows himself a few inches away from Chan so he won’t grow uncomfortable before saying, “Yongbok is about to turn a month old. We were hoping you could come.” 

Chan’s dull eyes light up at the mention of your son. He felt so foolish for running away into the woods when your letter arrived at his door a few weeks ago. He couldn’t be there like he used to when you’re the happiest. But does he have the right to be there for you after what he has done? 

“I can’t,” he answers sadly, drumming thoughts clouding his mind as the guards start walking around his cabin mindlessly. 

Jisung takes a step toward him, only for Chan to take another one away from his friend. “No, really, I insist,” he tries to convince him. He’s growing desperate when he sees what’s lying beneath those icy eyes. Chan is still hurting, he has never stopped since their last encounter. “Y/N wants you there with us.” 

“I’m sure she doesn’t.” 

“Chan, please,” Jisung insists further, and something inside Chan’s chest breaks a little more. The tension is hanging midair like a string on the verge of splintering. 

He unknowingly snaps, “Get out.”

“She cares about you!”

“I know that!”

“No, you don’t,” Jisung barks back at and receives a mere glare from his friend. “If you knew, you wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Chan elects to ignore his words from now on, “I said, GET OUT!”

“Childe Bang,” Seungmin raises a brow. “Have some respect for the king. He’s taken his own time and effort to come all the way here from the palace. The least you can do is treat him like a friend.” 

One of the guards speaks up suddenly, startling both Chan and Jisung, “Your Majesty. Don’t you think that he’s acting suspicious? If he’s really your and Her Highness’s childhood friend, what harm can be done if he attends the crown prince’s full-month celebration?”

Jisung can’t help but frowns, confused. “What are you implying?” 

“What I’m trying to say is that he shouldn’t be fussing over something like this if he still sees you as a friend. Unless..., he’s hiding something from you?”

Chan chuckles sarcastically, far too tired to be irked at such false accusations, “Oh, and what can that be?”

The cabin feels significantly cooler now. Gaze darting all over the place, something shiny catches Jisung’s attention. His eyes grow alarmed. 

“You and the queen herself may speak of your wrongdoings in court!” 

The young king’s heart thrashes inside his restrictive rib cage as he yells out Chan’s name before his feet take off running toward his friend. Those mere moments are played in slow motion as Jisung grabs Chan by the blades of his shoulders and pulls him away, alternating their initial positions. With a grimace, he braces himself as pain rips through him all at once. He looks down, and with a sigh of defeat, a blade is plunged right through his chest. A weak whimper gushes out of his lips with blood when the weapon is pulled away from his body viciously. 

“Your Majesty!” Seungmin gasps in panic when his lifeless body drops to the ground like a ragged doll. After moments of sheer panic, he gathers himself before commanding, “Tie him down!” 

Chan scrambles to his feet and his senses come back to him, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach when he feels Jisung’s body limp against his own. “Jisung…?” His eyes grow stingy. 

“Chan, come back to Manwoldae with me.” With the little amount of strength he has left, Jisung smiles, “Do it for Y/N. She’s still...waiting for you...” 

At that, Chan nods like a madman, squeezing his friend’s cold hand as if it’s the only thing that keeps him from going insane. “I will go back with you, just don’t die on me like this! Please!”

Jisung doesn’t reply. 

His hands are sticky with blood. So much blood. So dark, and red, and it reeks of guilt. It’s too much. It’s all too much. It all happened too fast. 

His eyes water, vision blinded with crimson as his gaze rolls around the room and lays still on the slaughter. Fire flickers and sears through his veins, breaths mingling. Chan goes up to the man who is on his knees, his hands bound behind his back tightly. 

“Why did you kill him?! Did you know who you’ve just killed?! Why did you kill Han Jisung?!” 

He reaches for his neck and squeezes, threatening to crush his windpipe completely. The culprit isn’t able to answer when Chan cries out, choking on air as he desperately claws at his hands for some sort of relief. With every heaved breath, his grip ruthlessly grows a fraction tighter. 

“Now that you’ve killed him… What is Y/N supposed to do?!”

“What is their son supposed to do?!” 

“What am I supposed to do?!” 

Seungmin places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” he speaks. The guard is as shocked as Chan either way. His head is all over the place right now, he didn’t expect someone to send a spy their way like this. “It’s done. You’ve killed him. You can stop now.” 

Chan inhales sharply before removing his grip. The slaughter falls to the ground in an awkward position. Dead. He turns his head toward Jisung instead, an urge to tear his own heart out of his chest is scratching against his eardrums. His friend’s blood is still turning cold on his cheeks, leaving a bitter taste with the droplets that are about to burst from his eyes. It burns, it hurts so bad. Chan might as well run his sword through himself already because how can he possibly face you after this? 

He stumbles over, falls to his knees, and lets his tears fall freely. The laughter of self-mockery ripples through his muscles, shakes his body, and resonates inside his skull. Jisung is dead. But why does he feel so demised inside? 

Can someone tell me what I should do now... Please… what should I do?

seven.

Several hours later, Seungmin kneels outside your private palace, suppressing his features from being contorted in pain as Chan’s cries of agony pierce right through him. A deserving price and punishment await the culprit for they have committed the most unforgivable of sins—murdering the king and queen of Goryeo. 

Behind the paper-lined door, Chan is caressing your cheekbone softly in hopes of you waking up and looking at him once again. You can’t. Shaking relentlessly, his hands scarlet and sticky with the blood of the two people he cares about most. There comes the exquisite pain of loss that kills him in a way nothing else can. Like his heart has been pulled from his body yet it’s still beating at the same time. Yet it is proof that he’s hurting, the proof for his love, is it not?

Jisung, it hurts. It hurts so much… Why does it have to hurt so bad?

It’s supposed to hurt. 

The tears have stopped for long. But your blood flows thickly over his fingers, cold. You must have gone some time ago. None of this would have happened if he could just push his prideful ego aside and listen to Jisung. None of this would have happened if he was selfless enough to let you go if he loved you enough to let you be happy. 

If you don’t sacrifice for what you want, what you want will be the sacrifice, they say. 

The room is dark, reeks of bloodshed and torment. With the soft candlelight flickering, the allure is cradling Chan in its stiff, emotionless arms. 

In loss, the seven stages of grief come as a road full of shards that can only travel upon bare soles and never leave your guts. So Chan lets the pain consume him before it becomes poisonous. In quiet moments, it chokes the breath from his body and makes his mind go haywire. What was once whole is now shattered without mercy, where once was love is an emptiness, echoes a love he used to put everything into. With time, the edges of the shards get duller and he eventually finds some sort of relief. 

“Didn’t you say that you wanted me here? At least… look at me. I’m right here… can you not look at me..?”

Silence. 

You’ve gone too far into the mist of the tallest mountains to come back to him now, deep into the horizons, above the clouds of the canvas that drapes itself over all beings. He would sell his soul to the most feral demons within the nine tiers of the ruinous abyss if it could bring back the warmth of your cheeks. But no elixir can bring back the sweetness of your smile, the innocence in your eyes, or the sound of your laughter. Not even a favor from the gods above can possibly turn back time and give Chan a second chance to redeem himself.

He was waiting far too long for his inner turmoil to fade away that he’s utterly oblivious about your own storm. It’s funny how you both can easily do the same thing. Meanwhile, you’re waiting for Chan to come back, to ask for your help, he’s only focusing on his own pain. 

“You’ve been waiting for me this whole time,” he murmurs into your hair lifelessly. “How could I be so foolish? Why can’t I just give up on my damned pride for once and listen to Jisung?” 

Despair numbs his spine, bloodshot eyes staring off into space as he gently rocks you back and forth. His body shudders unknowingly, like crimson is dripping from his innards, every breath being knocked right out of his chest ruthlessly. “I never knew...if I was doing the right thing. You said you would always be there for me, yet I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I never cared!”

“Jisung was right, I never knew how much you cared. I never knew about your suffering or your pain. I never asked if you were happy that we’d turned out this way.” 

One last tear silently rolls down on his face, for he—someone who cared so little is undeserving of your love. Because of him, no one gets the happiness that they deserve. 

At the end of the day, the real slaughter is him. The most tainted soul of all belongs to him. The greatest sinner at the end of the line is him. Forever will Chan be trapped in the moment of having his hands stained with your blood. The scars he’s embedded in himself shall not go away until the end of this lifetime. And a day shall not pass in vain if his heart does not ache for you and Jisung. 

Chan hopes that the sky is pretty and full of stars, wherever you two are right now. 

eight.

“Mother...,” Yongbok picks up a doll, giggling to himself before averting his gaze to the other one in his hand. “Father...” 

His shoulders slump with a familiar weight, sadness washing over the pureness of his eyes. “...and Yongbokie.” 

People often ask him how it feels to be an orphan. Truth is, he does not know. He only ever wanted to ask them what it feels like to have a family. 

With a huff of annoyance, the young prince tosses his doll away. His murmurs go unnoticed even to himself when he buries his face into his knees, blinking back the wetness upon his lashes. Oh, how he yearns the nagging of a father and the gentleness of a mother that his peers often take for granted. 

His head perks up the moment he feels another presence beside him. 

“...who are you?”

That’s when he sees, with his starry eyes, a figure taking their seat with him, right in front of his dead parents’ portrait. 

The wind caresses water delicately, leaves rustling like hushed whispers in awe of the precious crown prince. The stranger freezes momentarily before him, utterly awestruck. It’s been almost ten years since he’s come back to Manwoldae. Yongbok has grown into his features more now. From the still-crystalline eyes that he adores the most, to the cute button nose and chubby cheeks. He’s beautiful. 

You grew up so fast. His heart clenches. 

“Hmm, me?” Chan rubs his chin in a playful manner. “I’m your uncle.”

Yongbok’s face lights up at that. “Uncle?” 

A breathless chuckle. “That’s uncle Chan for you, Your Highness.”

“Uncle Chan,” the young prince calls out to him, making his heart dance. “Have you ever met my parents before?”

At this very moment, Chan knows he wouldn’t want to let this bundle of joy into the cruel world out there. His innocence reminds him of affection and bond, things that the callousness in his heart has long abandoned. He’s as vulnerable as a single snowflake, one wrong touch and he might just disappear forever. If Chan allows this little ray of light to venture into his pitch-black night, he might as well detest his very own existence. 

“Of course, I have.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“They told me that… my mother was a bad person,” Yongbok shifts his gaze downward, teary-eyed. 

Chan only shakes his head, a gentle hand ruffling his soft locks of hair. “Yongbok, ignore them,” he says. “Your mother was strong and very kind-hearted.” 

“And my father?”

The smile on Yongbok’s face doesn’t last long before a small pout forms on his lips. He looks discouraged. As though he’s been keeping a lot of things to himself without any condolences from others. Because no one feels like they have the right to empathize with the crown prince of Goryeo about his parents’ tragic death. But if Chan is holding the entire world in one hand and him in the other, he won’t waste a single heartbeat to take him. 

“Uncle, are you okay?” Yongbok’s small voice snaps him out of it. 

“Huh, what-“

Chan flinches slightly when his nephew rises to his feet, reaches up, and attempts to messily wipe his cheeks with his tiny hand. Hot tears have been trickling down his face unknowingly, his lashes heavy with droplets. He wants to slap himself back to reality—he shouldn’t be crying, he can’t cry in front of Yongbok. Not because Chan wants to protect the innocent glint within his eyes, but because he’s the only one who needs to go through this agony. 

With a long inhale, he pulls himself away from his nephew’s clumsy grip. Both hands on his shoulders, Chan wipes his tears with the back of his hands before pulling the young prince into his arms. 

“...your father loved your mother, very much so.”

Jisung did love you. More than Chan ever could.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt19

hello hello hello! i hope you guys liked that last chapter :) thank you so much for reading and i hope you have a great day!! pls share if you can :)

pt1

pt18

pt20

(Y/N) hugged each and every one of her friends as tightly as she could. What they had all been preparing for over the past year had finally been achieved. There was still more work to do, but it made her heart swell knowing that they had each brought fantastic change into the world. 

The sun shined through the tall windows, rousing (Y/N) from her slumber. She groaned and turned over in her bed, throwing her arm over her eyes. A knock came from outside of her door. 

“Miss (Y/N)!” One of the servants called. 

“Five more minutes,” (Y/N) grumbled, sinking further into the comfortable sheets and pillows. After sleeping on the ground for almost a whole year, she found it nearly impossible to get out of her bed in the mornings. 

“You instructed me last night that if you said five more minutes, I shouldn’t back down. Today is Prince Zuko’s coronation day.” 

(Y/N) eyes popped open and she sat up quickly, sliding out of bed. She threw on her robe and stumbled over to the wardrobe. “I’m getting ready now, I’ll be out in a bit! Is the prince up yet?” 

“No, Miss.” 

“Fantastic! I’ll wake him up today, alright?” 

“Yes, Miss.” She heard the servant’s footsteps travel down the hall. (Y/N) flung open her wardrobe to pick out the outfit she had chosen for this day. It was a traditional formal Fire Nation outfit: a maroon colored dress with dark, pointed shoulder pads. She dressed and tied her hair back in a topknot, letting the rest flow down her back. Her arm bandages only barely peeked through the sleeves of her dress. 

She exited her room and walked down the hall. It had been a few days since her fight with Azula and it was surprising how different everything already was. The last time (Y/N) was in the Fire Nation Royal Palace, she was a young girl. She had been in Zuko’s room, begging him not to partake in his first Agni Kai. Back then, the walls had been filled with anger and secrets. Now, as she walked through the halls of the palace, everything felt oddly new. It was like the end of the war had changed the entire atmosphere. 

Since her return to the Fire Nation, (Y/N) had taken on the role of being Zuko’s chief advisor. After the defeat of Ozai and Azula, both she and Zuko weren’t quite sure who in the Fire Nation they could really trust. So, (Y/N) had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had been to the palace frequently enough over the past few years to be able to pretend that her presence required respect. When Zuko had too much on his plate, she was there to make the decisions that reflected his and the nation’s best interests. It made her happy to know that she was making a positive change, especially when her best friend was at her side. 

She walked all the way across the palace, to the Fire Lord’s chambers. She knocked loudly against the door and waited for any sounds. When she heard nothing, (Y/N) pulled open the heavy wooden doors and found Zuko still fast asleep. 

“Up and at em! It’s coronation day!” She shouted, taking a pillow from underneath his head and hitting him with it. Zuko groaned in protest, flipping over on his stomach to hide his face. 

“I don’t think this is the way to treat a Fire Lord,” he grumbled into his sheets. (Y/N) began pulling at his legs. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t be Fire Lord until later today.” She pulled again, letting out a grunt before giving up. “You ask me to stay in the Fire Nation with you to help you bring back peace and now you won’t even listen to me when I try to do it!” 

“How is waking me up early bringing back peace?” 

“It brings peace of mind to me knowing that you won’t sleep through your coronation.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t have all day but I’ll cancel whatever I have to do in order to get you out of bed. Would you like me to sing you a song?” 

Zuko sat up quickly, holding his arms up in defense. “That won’t be necessary! You can leave now!” (Y/N) grinned and walked to the door. 

“Happy coronation day, Fire Lord Zuko,” She said softly. He returned her smile and with that, (Y/N) left to ready the palace for their guests.

Her first stop was the kitchens to ensure that they were preparing enough food for everyone they would be hosting. Representatives from each of the four nations would be coming to celebrate Zuko’s coronation and it was absolutely crucial to both Zuko and (Y/N) that unity be at the forefront of everything they do. So she had invited chefs from the nations to recreate some of their most popular foods. She was sad that she could not invite anyone from the Air Nomads, but she was assured by her chefs that they would try her best to make the culture’s most traditional foods. 

(Y/N) passed by the pots in the kitchens and gagged as she smelled the sea prunes steaming. She absolutely hated them, but she knew they were a Water Tribe delicacy. She just hoped that no one would offer any to her. 

After she stopped by the kitchens, she walked the servants through the timeline of the nights’ events. They would begin with Zuko’s coronation, then the courtyard would quickly be turned into an outside dining area so that everyone could mingle and enjoy themselves. Afterward, she and her friends would have a private celebration with Zuko to celebrate him and his accomplishments. 

“Are you doing my job for me?” (Y/N) paused as she laid out the courtyard blueprints for one of the servants. She turned around and smiled when she saw Zuko, fully dressed in his royal garments. He had pulled his hair back into a topknot that (Y/N) considered to be the cutest thing ever. 

“Someone has to do it while you’re sleeping the day away.” She dismissed the servants, leaning against the table of the meeting room. “What’ve you been up to?” 

“Some council meetings with leaders of the other nations.” Zuko sighed, leaning beside her. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” 

“We do. But we’ll do it together.” She leaned on Zuko’s shoulder and closed her eyes as he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. Much more had changed than just their place of residence. (Y/N) realized that while she had fought Azula so furiously because of what she had done to Zuko, there was also a deeper reason of why she was so angered. As she watched Zuko lying on the ground, practically dying, she realized that everyone had been right. The feelings that she felt for Zuko surpassed friendship. She loved him and she had loved him for a very long time. 

It was unfortunate that it had taken her until he was mortally injured to realize it, but better late than never, she supposed. 

She was scared to tell him though, which baffled her. She had fought for her life on multiple occasions, survived prison, and defeated one of the most powerful benders in the entire Fire Nation...but she still couldn’t tell her best friend that she was in love with him. 

“Wanna come out to the courtyard with me?” Zuko stood. “Everyone should be arriving soon.” (Y/N) nodded and followed him through the palace and to the steps of the main courtyard. Just as they walked outside, Appa landed in the middle of the courtyard with Aang, Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Momo in tow. (Y/N) and Zuko wore bright smiles on their faces as they waved to their friends. The last time she had seen any of them was the day of the comet. While that had only been a few days ago, this was the most time she had spent apart from her friends in a very long time. She ran to the courtyard to greet them as they stepped off of Appa, with Zuko trailing behind. 

(Y/N) hugged each and every one of her friends as tightly as she could. What they had all been preparing for over the past year had finally been achieved. There was still more work to do, but it made her heart swell knowing that they had each brought fantastic change into the world. 

“You look so different,” Sokka exclaimed, admiring her traditional Fire Nation robes. (Y/N) beamed up at him. 

“I used to dress like this all the time before I ran off with you hooligans. Do you guys want a tour? I can’t wait to show you where Zuko and I grew up!” 

“Maybe a little later,” Zuko cut in. “Aang and I have an important meeting to get to.” He gave her an apologetic look. 

“Oh, right,” (Y/N) said, but the excitement didn’t fall from her face. “Very important Fire Lord and Avatar stuff.” She turned back to Sokka, Katara, and Toph. “How about you all come with me to the kitchens? You can taste the food we’ve been preparing and let me know if it’s good enough to serve.” 

“Sounds great!” Toph cheered. “I’m starving. Someone ate all the seal jerky on the way here.” 

All three girls looked at Sokka, who shrugged. “I’m a growing man!” 

(Y/N) led them into the palace. They marveled at the ornate architecture on the inside, and at the portraits of past Fire Lords. Katara halted the group to look at the blank space on the wall of Fire Lords. “What happened here?” 

“We took down the portraits of Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai,” (Y/N) explained. 

“Why?” Toph asked. 

“Zuko and I agreed that we didn’t want our nation to forget its history, no matter how horrible it is. But we also didn’t want to honor those three when all they’ve done was cause pain and suffering.” She pursed her lips as she stared at the empty space. “I’m working on hiring a painter for Zuko, but he’s always so busy.” 

“Are you like Zuko’s assistant now?” Sokka questioned. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I do the things he doesn’t necessarily have time for, so I guess. Really I just consider myself his friend.” 

“His friend?” Katara asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Katara, his friend,” (Y/N) said, but the two best friends exchanged a knowing smile that told Katara everything she needed to know. (Y/N) turned quickly on her heel to lead them down to the kitchens. They ate to their hearts content and only barely left the kitchens in time to make the coronation. 

Katara and Sokka stood at the front of the Water Tribe guests with their father. Toph stood at the front of the Earth Kingdom guests with Haru, the Mechanist, and other friends from they had met. (Y/N) stood at the front of the Fire Nation guests, exchanging smiles and greetings with the nobles who were willing to hear Zuko out. 

If she squinted, she could see Zuko standing inside the palace. He looked hesitant, as if he were scared, and (Y/N) cursed herself for not being up there with him. She could have coached him through this or cheered him on. He paced back and forth as he waited to be called out by the Fire Sages. (Y/N) felt herself smile at how nervous he was. Zuko was confident, but never cocky, and it was one of the things she loved most about him. 

Right before it was time for Zuko to walk out, (Y/N) watched as Mai walked up to him. The two exchanged a kiss, resulting in the biggest smile being put on Zuko’s face.

(Y/N) looked over at Katara, whose wide eyes and open mouth let her know that she was just as shocked. But she had no time to react. She swallowed her feelings deep into the pit of her stomach and cheered like everyone else did as Zuko walked out to be crowned Fire Lord. 

---

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[warrioreowynofrohan]

On Gondor and Nationalism

Gondor, and particularly Denethor and Boromir, is characterized more than any other realm in The Lord of the Rings by nationalism, and there is a sharp contrast between its actual role in the war and the way Denethor and Boromir percieve its role. Two quotes in The Return of the King form the core of Tolkien’s discussion of nationalism, and both are conversations between Denethor and Gandalf.

The first:

Denethor: Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man’s, unless the king should come again.

Gandalf: ...I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I should not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit or flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?

And the second, discussing Denethor’s views on what should have been done with the Ring:

Denethor: It should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need, but set beyond his grasp, save by a victory so final that what then befell would not trouble us, being dead.

Gandalf: You think, as is your wont, my lord, of Gondor only. Yet there are other men and other lives, and time still to be. And for me, I pity even his slaves.

Denethor: And where will other men look for help if Gondor falls?

Both of these conversations point to the fundamental flaw in Denethor’s worldview, and it is a nuanced one. He is not the weak, selfish old man presented in the films; he is intelligent, pragmatic, and realistic, and his strategy and tactics are thoughtful. Again unlike the movies, the mission he sends Faramir on - to prevent the armies of Mordor from crossing Anduin, and cause them heavy losses if they do cross - is not a pointless suicide mission but a crucial and tactically necessary battle. He is wrong in his attitude towards and treatment of Faramir, not in sending him into danger.

Denethor represents (as, in another way, does Saruman) the wisdom of the world. His statement that, as the steward of Gondor, his highest purpose must be the good of Gondor, would be approved by many political theorists. But in the wider vision of the story of The Lord of the Rings, expressed by Gandalf, it is critically flawed in its narrowness and arrogance. The war against Sauron is not about the victory or preservation of one realm alone; it is about saving anything and everything good in Middle-earth, in the present or the future. This is the moment when Gandalf comes closest, of any point in the story, to stating outright who he is and what his purpose is; he doesn’t say outright that he was sent by the Valar to preserve the world against Sauron, but he comes near enough to it that Denethor, an intelligent and learned man, could pick up on it if he wanted to. It is important to Gandalf to at least try to get Denethor to understand the importance of what he’s saying.

In the second conversation, though, Denethor has fallen still farther from the truth. In the first one, he only said that Gondor’s good had to be his highest priority, as its ruler; now he says that if Minas Tirith falls, Sauron’s conquered the world anyway and it doesn’t matter if he gets the Ring. In his eyes, Minas Tirith is the only thing standing against Sauron, and the only thing that matters; its defeat is to him synonymous with the destruction of the world. People across Middle-earth are fighting against Sauron: on the very day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, the elves of Lothlórien are fighting off an assault by Sauron’s forces, as are the wood-elves in Mirkwood; the Battle of Dale in which the kings of both Dale and the Lonely Mountain fall will be two days later. Gondor is not alone in this war; it is not the only realm fighting and not the only one whose battles matter. It is not the bulwark sheltering the peaceful rest of the world from war; the rest of the world is fighting. But Denethor chooses to regard it as the only place of importance.

These are perspectives that he passed on, in part, to his eldest son, as seen in some of Boromir’s deeds at the Council of Elrond as well as in his later temptation by the Ring. At the Council, he takes the tone that Gondor is unacknowledged and unappreciated and is doing all the work of fighting Sauron: “Few, I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last...By our valour the wild folk of the East are still restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West...those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help.” He also - very importantly - instantly conflates “Doom” in the prophecy he hears with “the Doom of Minas Tirith”: the same thing Denethor is doing when he says that, if Minas Tirith falls, the world has already fallen and there’s no point in keeping the Ring away from Sauron. When he is told that the Ring cannot be wielded to defeat Sauron by force of arms, he acts as though the other members of the Council are abandoning Gondor. And so the Ring tempts him with the power to save Minas Tirith, because that’s the only way he can concieve of for the world to be saved.

Aragorn’s response to Boromir, in speaking of the Rangers, is not a counter-boast but an attempt (like Gandalf’s with Denethor) to give Boromir a broader perspective: many people are fighting and resisting Sauron and other evil things, in their own ways (“the servants of the Enemy...are found in many places, not in Mordor only”). Gondor is not alone; it is playing one particular role, while others play other roles.

This attitude, that its battles are the only ones that matter, is quite unique to Gondor. Legolas and Gimli, fighting in the wars of Rohan and Gondor, recognize that their kin cannot come to them: “They have no need to march to war...war already marches on their own lands”. The hobbits continually think little of themselves and their actions, even while achieving great things. (One example that amuses me is the contrast at the Council of Elrond between Boromir, who thinks his comparatively uneventful journey quite heroic - “since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself” - and Frodo, who regards his achievement of escaping to Rivendell while pursued by all nine of the Nazgûl, and surviving a wound that would have been worse-than-fatal to most other mortals, with an attitude of ‘well, I rather muffed that up’.) The Ents very much have their own priorites - Treebeard says “I am not really on anyone’s side, as no one is really on my side - no one cares for the woods these days” - but they involve themselves in the war beyond merely defending Fangorn, by destroying the orcs who invade Rohan from the north. Théoden likewise keeps the big picture, not just the narrow ‘good of Rohan’ in mind, continuing with his army to the relief of Gondor even as news comes of Rohan being invaded from the north and east (the aforementioned orcs whom the Ents deal with).

Frodo comes closest to understanding what Gandalf is saying in the first-quoted conversation with Denethor. After seeing the Witch-king’s army march out from Minas Morgul, Frodo is tempted to despair: “Even if my errand is performed, no one will ever know. There will be no one I can tell. It will be in vain.” But he resists this: what he had to do, he had to do, if he could, and whether Faramir or Aragorn or Elrond or Gandalf or Galadriel or anyone else ever knew about it was beside the purpose. Aragorn, too, understands it: the march on the Black Gate is the antithesis of Denethor’s perspective: sacrifice of the armies of Gondor and Rohan without even knowing what may happen after they are defeated, in the hope that they may enable someone else to win the victory. They have no way of guessing that Frodo and Sam will reach Mount Doom at the same time as the armies clash at the Black Gate; their hope is founded on the idea of distracting Sauron long enough that Frodo and Sam can destroy the Ring days later, after the armies are all dead.

And Denethor and Boromir’s attitudes are all the more ironic because, in the end, Gondor doesn’t hold up very well. They fall apart and stop even trying to man the walls of Minas Tirith after a mere two days of siege, when food supplies haven’t even begun to be an issue. For a fortified city, especially one as well-designed for defense as Minas Tirith, that’s a very short amount of time to hold out against a siege! During the march on the Black Gate, even the sight of the Plains of Gorgoroth is too much for some of the men of Gondor and Rohan, and they can’t keep going. Yes, they’re just regular people and have never seen anything this horrible before, but Frodo and Sam and now Pippin are also just regular people used to peaceful lives, and they keep going. The purpose of this comparison isn’t to run down the Men of Gondor, but to point out how deeply wrong the idea is of them being the only ones whose fight matters, the only ones with the nerve and determination to protect the rest of the world. The hobbits, who don’t think of themselves as anything special or important or strong, are the ones who save the world, and they do it through hope, endurance, self-sacrifice, love, and compassion, not through military might.

[justgenshinstuf]

Darknight Hero

This one is about Traveler(reader) becoming a witness to an aftermath of Diluc’s reckless Batman games ;3c 

TW: blood mention

Traveler(Reader) x Diluc implied 

You’ve been staying in his mansion for a few days now.

Diluc offered it right after you’d finished your first quest together.

“Ordo Favonious Quarters is not the best place to stay at, trust me on this one”.

It was quite peaceful here, at the Dawn Winery. Only the sound of the leaves trembling in the wind behind your window.

But that night you just could not sleep. Different thoughts were clouding your mind as you stayed awake for several hours. And you thought the last mission tired you enough.

Too many servants and all kinds of workers circulating around the house have usually made you a bit uncomfortable, as well as this strong wine odour constantly filling the air. 

You could rarely meet Diluc here, he was mostly too occupied with his work and stayed at his office behind closed doors, or was gone, attending some other matters outside of the Dawn Winery.

The only person who could get in contact with Diluc most of the time was Elzer, the man left in charge of things, when the Master was absent. Diluc trusted him the most among his servants, you even learned he was the only one to know the true story behind the ‘Darknight Hero’.

This day at the Winery was a bit different than usual. Elzer and a few others left to deal with something important at Master’s request. The Mansion felt empty for the first time, especially at night, when all of the maids stayed in the opposite wing of the house. 

Dilluc himself was away for the whole day. You were used to the fact he could randomly disappear without notice and then come back in the same manner, greeting you the morning after, like nothing was wrong. Maybe the following morning will be just like that...

You finally gave up on sleeping and just sat on your bed. You felt uneasy for some reason, like something bad was about to happen. Stupid anxiety.

You stood up and went to the window. Floor boards creaked under your feet, disturbing the atmosphere even more. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon, dark clouds covered the whole sky, swallowing all the light. Maybe the storm was coming? 

You turned your back to the window, settling dow, the back of your head resting beside the cold glass. Your eyes slightly adjusted to the dark, and contours of the furniture in your room slowly became more visible.

It was a big guest room, with a bed bigger than you probably needed, a wardrobe and a writing table. A picture was hanging on the wall, but at that moment you couldn’t quite make it out. Ugh, I’m so tired...

THUD

A loud noise pierced the silence, making you jump up from the window. You froze, only the sound of your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. What was that?!

Your room was not so far from Diluc’s bedroom, one long hallway away. Maybe someone broke in? Without much thinking you took off to where the sound supposedly came from, but stopped at the door in case you hear something else.

Someone was definitely in there and, by the sound of it, the window was wide open too. The maids would be no use in fighting an intruder, it was up to you to take the situation into your own hands. You worked up the courage and threw the door open.

There, in the dim light of gas lamp, a dark figure hunched up, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He threw his head of tumbled bright-red hair back, getting a better look at you.

There could be no mistake. It was Diluc! You rushed to his side, trying to examine him more closely. 

���What happened?! Are you injured?” You could now see some blood dripping from his head, some droplets of it on the floor. Instinctively, you grabbed his hand, pulling away instantly, as he growled from pain. 

“We need to take you to the hospital ASAP! You..”

“Hush!” He cut you off abruptly. “It’s fine. I can handle this”.

“You have blood on your face, this is serious!” You switched to angry whispering to match him.

“First drawer, brown box. There are some bandages inside. Could you, please, give it to me?” A short nod in the direction of the dresser. It seemed like your words had no affect on him what so ever.

You fulfilled his request, still irritated by his intentional neglect, but you were not going to let him do everything himself. 

The box was bigger than you’d expected, filled with all kinds of medical supply. You even caught a glimpse of a surgical needle and a thread. How long has he been doing that? Did his previous Darknight Hero justice-raids end like this? Why did’t you hear? 

You treated his injured head, stopping the blood, gently washing it off his face. You assisted him taking off his muddy coat and tight west, looking for more bleedings. Thankfully, there weren’t much more open wounds, mostly bruises. You also noted Diluc couldn’t move his right hand normally.

“Cryogunners working with hydrogunners. Those damned Fatui”.  

He was speaking through clenched teeth, slowly pulling off his glove. His hand looked almost white in color, nails turning blue-ish. You’d never seen a limb nearly frozen like that before. It was probably not the only part of his body injured like that.

He tried wiggling his fingers, but it seemed like it caused him much pain. He reached for the box with his working hand, taking a little flask from under all the bandages.

Before you could ask anything, Diluc swiftly uncapped it with his thumb and drank light shiny substance in one gulp.

“This should do”. He proclaimed, cringing slightly from the taste.

“This is a potion made with the use of alchemy. It can decrease damage caused by Cryo”. He blankly stared at the bottle he was fiddling in his hand for a moment, before looking straight at you. “It shouldn’t be used like that, per se, but I’ll probably be fine in a few hours”.

You sighed deeply, seating yourself more comfortably in front of Diluc. It wasn’t like you were planning on going somewhere before you could see him recover with your own two eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

A few more hours passed. Diluc had told you how Fatui Skirmishers tracked and ambushed him. They probably planned to take him on by numbers, but he still managed to defeat every single one of them. What you witnessed was just ‘an unpleasant result of poor planning’ as he’d put it. You were sure he left some things out of this story.

 The sun was slowly rising, first rays lighting up the bedroom. In this light it was visible how tired and worn out you both were. Things Diluc accidentally knocked over while entering throgh the window were still scattered on the floor. You eyelids felt heavy, but you still took some time to tidy up.

“Alright, I think I’m fine”. Diluc suddenly interrupted sleep-inducing silence that was going on for some time and carefully got up on his feet. “You should probably go back to your room and get some rest”.

For some reason, he was now avoiding your gaze. On a brighter side, he really did look better.

“Thank you for your help, y/n. I owe you one from now on.”. 

It seemed like he was being impatient. Was he worried someone would realise you spent the night together? You didn’t feel like you were done here.

“I know I can’t dictate you what to do, but I think you are taking on too much”. You tried not to make it sound rude, but it came out pretty straight-forward. He scared you, now you couldn’t help it but worry when he is gone for too long. Oh, who were you kidding, you’ve already been stressing while he was out playing vigilante. 

“You’re certainly right, y/n” You never noticed his fiery eyes looked so cold. “You can’t tell me what to do”. 

Why is he so dense?!

There was a moment of awkward silence. You gave him a simple nod and turned around to retreat back to your room. Something made you stop right in the doorway. You clenched your fists and sharply turned around.

A sudden determination overflown you, and you marched straight back to face Diluc. Without further hesitation you wrapped your arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace.

“Just promise me you will be more careful”. You demanded quietly but firmly.

Diluc was certainly not the one to openly show affection. These distant types of people rarely engage in touchy-feely things, so it turned out to be quite a surprise when he put his arm around you in return, gently pressing your head against his chest with the other one. You couldn’t see that, but his face turned slightly red.

“I can try”.

[good-omens-classic]

Been thinking about the modernization of the narrative of Good Omens from the novel to the TV series prompted by those last posts.  DISCLAIMER: its actually been a while since i either watched the TV show or read the book so i might be misremembering stuff 😅

If i remember correctly, in the early stages of production of the TV show Neil Gaiman stated the aesthetics of Heaven and Hell were being updated to be less like countries at war, as they were in the novel, and more like factions of a corporation, with Heaven being the top office and Hell being the basement.  And he said this was to representing the shifting social anxieties of the time - the novel was written on the heels of the Cold War, and so has a lot of spy and soldier aesthetic to it, whereas nowadays we are all looking with a skeptical eye at Disney and Nestle as large corporations do whatever the hell they want without consequences.

I think this modernization is an effective one, but one that changes the flavor of the narrative slightly, and in a way that makes it less appealing to some people and more appealing to others.  One is not necessarily better than the other, and given one is a new TV show and one is an old novel so it’s hardly accurate to compare the size of fanbases, I can’t even say one is necessarily more or less appealing/popular than the other.  I think that the TV show was well-made, but there were a few small key changes in the writing that move the narrative away from the reasons why I got absolutely obsessed with the novel.  I think that David Tennant and Michael Sheen did a pretty good job acting the directions and script they were given, my main things I don’t like are kind of with the writing decisions (and tbh the costuming still but that’s petty 🙄)

I think it’s probably part of my upbringing, which was fundamentalist Protestant and honestly, obsessed with violence, that I don’t want to engage with a story where Hell is bad because it’s the dirty basement of an office building.  That’s a legit way to depict Hell, and one that has interesting thematical implications, but I personally want to read stories where Hell is fire and brimstone so that I can watch the protagonists defeat that.  I don’t fantasize about breaking free from an office job, or co-workers caught up in office petty politics, stories about finding softness and love amidst an actual war where violence is expected are what appeal to me.  The demons in the TV series are violent, but it’s just because they’re mean people, not because there’s a system put in place that forces them to be....which is honestly kind of part of why I liked the universe of the novel so much, because I liked to see Aziraphale and Crowley fight a system that tries to force them to be violent and fight and stuff?

The depiction of a narrative’s bad guy, even with subtle changes, can have some pretty significant impacts on how the audience feels about the narrative if what they’re looking for in the story is catharsis and wish-fulfillment.  For example, I often see people gripe about their DMs including homophobia and transphobia in their world-building in DnD, as though the ideal setting would be free from those things (and indeed, that’s the ideal setting for someone who wants escapism), but if you want to roleplay a character who struggles and overcomes those social issues, because they affect you in real life and you find it cathartic, constructing a world where those issues are very mild is not going to provide the same outlet that being victorious in a truly grimdark world is going to.  It’s not for everyone, but due to the novel’s vagueness about certain things, it allowed the fandom some level of flexibility in interpreting their version of the supernatural in whatever way they wanted (the only other angel we see “on screen” other than Aziraphale is Metatron, for like 3 pages, so it was really whatever your imagination cooked up to fill in those gaps), whereas the TV show fandom is working with more concrete building blocks.

This leads me to another gripe I have--making God female.  I understand this appealed hugely to a lot of people because they love the progressive implications of God not being male, and how it upsets religious bigots, but I honestly did not think this was super revolutionary or groundbreaking for the reason that Good Omens is a work of satire--it is criticizing God, and honestly?  I don’t think God is super kind and loving in either version of the story, Heaven is harsh and filled with asshole angels, Crowley was thrown out for just asking questions, and God plays games with his/her servants.  Not everyone sees it this way but I honestly feel like God in the GOmens universe is borderline abusive and gas-lighty, as a proxy criticism of the Christian Church, and the church has historically also been extremely misogynistic, so I think that aspect of it kind of falls apart when God is suddenly female.

That line about dinosaur bones being a joke that God played on humans hits differently when child-you went to a school that taught creationism in science class and thought you were going to hell if you didn’t believe what they told you.

But getting back to my main point, the TV show had the narrative updated for the times much more significantly than the radio play that came out in 2015--for that one, it was mostly cosmetic changes, such as tossing in a mention of X-boxes, whereas the TV show updated the basic narrative structure to reflect changing culture.  I think it was an effective change, but one that made the narrative less appealing to me personally.  A lot of people who were in the fandom before the TV show came out, or who just read the novel after watching the show to compare, seem to agree that the worldbuilding and the characterizations have subtle differences between the two incarnations, which to a casual consumer is not really that noticeable, but if you like one or the other because it hits a very specific sweet spot it might make a difference.  For me I liked it mostly because it provided a blank canvas with some very good building blocks for, like, my imagination to run off with, and the TV show closed a lot of those avenues by filling them in with something more concrete.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing and I can see myself experiencing this from the opposite side when I go into fandoms having just consumed the newest incarnation of a thing and quite liked it, only to find the fandom has people who liked it before that adaptation and hate it a lot!  That’s just the nature of the beast and an inevitable side effect of obsessing over something way more than you’re meant to, but it’s also why I’m not really interested in reading or writing fanfiction set in the TV ‘verse.  Anyway Im kind of rambling now but this is just kinda my thoughts and my onion so if anyone has any other thoughts on it feel free to share your onion with me too :)

[somethingwritey]

sneak peek: “run to you” - a rangshi longfic

💖 i am currently working on a rangshi longfic (50k words at the moment) that i’ll eventually publish on ao3. it takes place directly following the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee. 

💖 my writing commissions are open! message me with commission requests or questions! 

💖 here’s a sneak peek of “run to you”! 

--- 

Kyoshi had blood on her hands.

Quite literally, at the moment.

She stared down at her palms and fingers, hoping they didn’t shake as badly as she feared.

She knew she needed to wash the weight of Rangi’s blood away, watch it swirl down her arms and out of sight, as if that alone could wipe away the pain she’d caused her girl, but for some reason, Kyoshi couldn’t seem to move her feet.

Every part of her felt heavy and languid, and it was hard work to imagine that these were the same limbs that had carried, defended, and healed only hours ago. Kyoshi wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for someone else to save the world for once.

Because that was the oh, so incessant problem about Avatarhood. No matter how many messes Kyoshi cleaned up, there were still new terrors cropping up the moment she sat down to catch her breath. It was exhausting. Behind all the makeup and armor, she was still the servant girl in the mansion - tasked with the never-ending job of cleaning up.

“You saved her life.”

Kyoshi lifted her head to see Hei-Ran, standing only a little less poised than usual. The teetering fate of Rangi had taken a toll on even the most rigid members of her group.

“I did my duty.” The words came out defeated, as if Kyoshi had lost instead of won. Then again, with Yun’s grey body lying somewhere inside the ruined mansion waiting to be put to rest, and a bloodied Rangi being tended to by Atuat, maybe she couldn’t claim victory after all.

Peace comes at a price.

She heard the words in Lao Ge’s voice, although she was fairly certain he’d never actually uttered them to her.

“You did far beyond that, Avatar.” Hei-Ran thought about it for a moment, then took a seat beside her - flicking her robes out behind her as she did. “You should be honored for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, except no one will even know!” Kyoshi slammed her fists down on the ground, causing a small tremor beneath them. “Zoryu’s made sure of that! He gets all the credit, and all he’s done is sentence an innocent man to death!”

This outburst probably wouldn’t win her any favor in Hei-Ran’s eyes - the woman so committed to her duty that she’d willingly sacrificed her hair and honor to acknowledge her failures - but Kyoshi couldn’t help it.

Her first choice for a confidant would’ve been Rangi, of course. Or maybe Kelsang. But with the latter dead and the former barely conscious, she supposed the old headmistress would have to do. The woman had claimed Kyoshi as a daughter back in North Chung-Ling. Perhaps that warranted a bit of sympathy or at least a listening ear.

“The Fire Lord’s job is complicated,” Hei-Ran stated. “As is yours. You’ve both been tasked with the impossible: governing a world that does not wish to be governed by you. Chaos is the natural order, Kyoshi, as much as we pretend it is not. The Fire Nation must go to great lengths to maintain our control. Even if it… requires some bloodshed.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Kyoshi shook her head. She no longer felt the dull aching in her chest that used to come with a reminder of her station, but that didn’t mean the Era of Kyoshi hadn’t been stained with blood and confusion and deceit. 

“The Spirits chose you.”

Why?

The plaintive question would’ve made her sound like a child, so Kyoshi sealed her lips and kept the pleading inside. She wanted answers. And since Hei-Ran would understand nothing more about the mysterious methods of the spirits than she did, Kyoshi decided to at least start with something the woman stood a chance at knowing.

“Was Rangi mad?” She rubbed the side of her face and dried blood flaked off, fluttering towards the ground. “When I left, I mean.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hei-Ran’s face. “Enough to shoot flames out of her ears.”

For a moment, Kyoshi tried to picture it - a steaming mad Rangi, with her face boiling red and fists clenched into tight balls. The last time she’d gotten that upset, the Firebender had flipped a table off a balcony. For a moment, the memory tugged at the corner of Kyoshi’s mouth - lifting it into a lopsided smile. 

And then the moment passed.

“I’m sorry I killed your daughter.”

Hei-Ran frowned. “You healed her, Kyoshi.”

Only after Rangi had traveled to fight alongside the girl who’d locked her into the ground and put her mother on a possible death bed. “Because I put her in danger. It doesn’t count. Doing right by her after that was just… canceling out the bad.”

Kyoshi felt like she’d been doing that her whole life: making mistakes and then fixing them. It didn’t seem right to take the credit for something she’d messed up in the first place.

You were the one innocent party, Yun had told her. Oh, if only that were the truth.

“Hei-Ran?” Atuat had emerged from the infirmary, traveling up to where Kyoshi and the headmistress sat. Hei-Ran was on her feet immediately, but whether to appear respectable in front of the doctor or out of fear for what news she’d bring, Kyoshi couldn’t be sure.

“How is she?” Kyoshi found her way to her feet as well, Atuat’s presence sending a fresh wave of worry down her spine.

“Oh good, Kyoshi’s here, too. Saves me a trip.” Atuat took her time reaching them and with each passing moment, Kyoshi found herself more and more on edge. By the time the Waterbender made it over, she could feel her body vibrating again.

“Well?” Hei-Ran demanded, clearly just as impatient as Kyoshi, but with better control over her exterior.

“She’s asleep.” Atuat’s manner always confused Kyoshi a bit. She never seemed exhausted by the threat of death. Perhaps she’d just become too acquainted with it, or maybe mastering the power of healing made her immune to the fear. Either way, she always emerged from battle hospitals like she’d finished a rather routine examination.

“Will she be okay?” Kyoshi remembered the crunch of earth as it impaled Rangi’s back. The way the blood had rushed away from her lips. How she’d looked up at her as the life drained away. “Is the damage permanent? I know I didn’t heal her right. I tried my best, but -”

“Kyoshi.” Atuat held up her hand. “Rangi is a strong girl. She’s going to be alright. In pain, certainly, but in the end alright.”

Kyoshi exhaled shakily, barely able to keep it together enough to thank her.

“You need rest, too, Avatar,” Atuat pressed, motioning down towards the infirmary. “There’s a spare bed down the hill.”

The last thing Kyoshi wanted to do was sleep. How could she just let herself clock out when Rangi needed caring for? When the Flying Opera Company was wounded? When Jinpa still hadn’t come down from his medicine high due to her own poor measurements?

As if Atuat could read her mind, the doctor narrowed her eyes. “That monk is off his rocker. You gave him too much.”

“Sorry, sifu.”

“Rest, Kyoshi,” was the only response she got in return. “And take off those clothes. You’ve got blood all over you.”

///

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Kyoshi jumped a little, hurriedly switching her gaze to the other side of the room and away from Rangi’s bed before deciding hiding it was futile. The Firebender hadn’t moved in over two hours, but apparently, the wounded girl was more perceptive than Kyoshi had anticipated.  

“I thought you were sleeping!” Kyoshi whispered, doing her best not to disturb Kirima and Wong, who were asleep in their respective wooden beds.

“I’m resting.” Rangi still hadn’t opened her eyes. “A concept you might not be familiar with.”

A hum of relief ran through Kyoshi’s arms. If Rangi was well enough to give her shit, then maybe that meant the girl would be alright after all.

“I know how to rest.” Kyoshi crossed her arms and did her best to look wounded.  

“Yeah, and Jinpa’s a murderer.”

Kyoshi glanced over at her secretary, who was propped up against the wooden headboard and still singing to himself in dulcet tones.  

“Kyoshi, please try to sleep,” Rangi pleaded.

Easier said than done. Sitting still seemed too difficult for Kyoshi at the moment, let alone actually falling asleep.

“Yeah, well,” Kyoshi mumbled offhandedly. “I’m not really keen on seeing you die again in my dreams.” It came out sounding more dire than she’d meant.

Only then did Rangi open her eyes, staring at Kyoshi from across the way. “I’m fine.”

It would’ve been a lot more convincing if her hands weren’t locked tight around the thin cotton sheets, compensating for some sort of pain she must be feeling.

“Fine?” Kyoshi stared at her incredulously. “You were stabbed.”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Kirima suddenly cut in, gesturing to her splinted leg. “Some of us are trying to heal!”

Apparently, her ability to tell who was asleep badly needed fine-tuning.

“Noise won’t delay that process!” Kyoshi shot back, trying to keep her smile at bay. She really had missed her friends.

Silence fell back over the infirmary, and Kyoshi allowed herself to lean against the headboard for the first time all night. She drew in a shaky breath, basking in the safety she felt around the Flying Opera Company - even if their legs were broken.

It was a few minutes before Rangi spoke again, lowering her voice to whisper in that raspy way of hers. “You’re pretty far away, you know.”

At first, Kyoshi wanted to protest that of course her energy was distant - she’d killed one of her closest friends and nearly lost the other one - before she realized Rangi was speaking literally. She closed her mouth. Hard.

A little too hard, actually. Her jaw still ached where Yun had thrown the discs.

Rangi even managed a little grin. “Do you think Atuat will kill you for sleeping with a patient?”

Giddy with the idea of lying beside Rangi again, Kyoshi slid out of bed and made her way over to the other side of the room. She’d flirted with the idea of climbing in before, but with Rangi’s fragile state, she hadn’t wanted to cause any more damage than she’d already done.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Rangi mumbled, but Kyoshi still saw her struggle to make space in the small frame.

“This is a bad -”

“Will you quit worrying and just crawl in, please?” Rangi did her best to pat the bed beside her, wincing horribly. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Mmm, what a terrible fate,” Kyoshi grinned, finally allowing herself to gingerly lie down beside Rangi. “Sleeping next to Kyoshi. What an awful - hey!”

Rangi had elbowed her in the ribs. She tried to laugh, but it barely masked the tremor behind it.

“Stop hurting yourself,” Kyoshi hissed, laying an angry kiss on the Firebender’s cheek. “I mean it.”

In response, Rangi moved to curl up closer against Kyoshi’s chest, her eyes falling shut again. For a long while, they stayed just like that - Rangi in too much pain to move and Kyoshi too nervous about causing her any more. It felt awfully reminiscent of the first time they’d shared a bed, with Kyoshi awake all night inhaling the smell of Rangi’s hair against her lips.

Kyoshi had vowed to protect her then, and she still wanted to protect her now. She didn’t miss the way Rangi’s face screwed up as she slept, sleep inhibiting her ability to hide the discomfort. A couple of times, Atuat came to check on her. She clicked her teeth together at the sight of Kyoshi in the bed, but didn’t seem altogether surprised. The doctor didn’t force her away either, something for which Kyoshi was eternally grateful.

In the blue-grey hours of the morning, Kyoshi finally succumbed to the heaviness in her eyelids - letting them shut as her head fell back against the headboard - at last, too tired to worry about any new dangers coming for them that night.

-----

💖  that’s all for now :) i might post a little more soon! i’m very excited to get this up on ao3 in the near future!

💖 if you enjoy my writing and want to commission me, send me a message! my commissions are open! 

💖 keep an eye out for more commissioned pieces coming soon :) 

[decks-writing-blog]

I am the King!

The Hand of the King stood across the way, looming large and intimidating in front of the smoldering remains of the throne. He wouldn’t move from there no matter how long Behead hung around out here. Or at least his patience for standing around was always far greater than theirs. Even during the instances they’d done their best to taunt him, he hadn’t responded. Like the real pain in the ass he was, he’d only move once they entered into his arena trap. Where he’d ‘kill’ them again as he’d done many, many times before.

Beheaded had killed him a few times before too but not in a long while and they didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell this attempt either. Their health flask was empty and their body was far too damaged to survive more than a blow or two from his massive blade. It was annoyinglosing so many times to him, especially in a row. Did he even remember any of it though? No one ever seemed to comment on the fact that the island was stuck in a time loop so was Beheaded the only one who remembered or knew? Other than Time Keeper anyway, presumably the one responsible for the looping and thus had to know by default. Or was it common knowledge and thus not something worth mentioning? … Perhaps they should try to ask someone sometime.

Speaking of asking about things though, a handful of runs ago they’d finally managed to defeat the Giant. He’d called them ‘King’. It had been odd but they’d quickly put it out of their mind. In part due to their frustration with losing to the Hand again, ruining their good mood gained from beating the Giant. But now that they were thinking of it again as they sat on the ground in a small pool of their current body’s blood, staring across at the impassive Hand, why had he called them that?

They had no memories outside of this time loop but they’d already determined they’d probably once upon a time been human – or at least created from a human body – based off stuff they’d found in the Undying Shores. But the King? How likely was that in truth? Impossible for them to say for sure since they didn’t know about what might or might not have happened to him before everything completely fell to ruin. But it didn’t really matter to them much either way. Except for the fact that if they hadbeen the King that would mean the Hand of the King had been their Hand. It would also explain their irrational anger at the sight of the ‘King’ on the throne. … But wouldn’t having seen him there contradict the Giant calling them ‘King’? … He hadn’t seemed very alive though, not reacting at all to anything so clearly something was up there. Plus the whole time loop thing made for some pretty weird happenings. So it was still possible Beheaded was the King and thus the Hand was theirs.

It’d be pretty neat to have a big strong fellow like him be at their beck and call. Or at least firmly in their command. … What did hands of kings even do? Were they some kind of special servant guard, second in command, or something else? … It didn’t matter, there’d be no killing him this time no matter what so maybe reigning him back into their control – even if it was only for this loop if he didn’t remember in future loops – would be a fun alternative. It would certainly be something different to do anyway; a brief break from being sliced to bits and slicing monsters to bits in turn.

Carefully, Beheaded, stood back up. They took one step closer to the Hand but stopped. How would they reign him back in when they couldn’t speak to tell him they were the King he was supposed to be the Hand of? Did they have something to write on that they could toss his way? … No. Nor did they have anything to write with other than perhaps their own blood. So how would they communicate? …

Well if they trying to be ‘friendly’ anyway… They took another couple steps closer, putting them near the edge of where his arena would start. Then they lifted a hand in their best attempt at a friendly wave. A foreign gesture to them, probably from even back when they’d been a human, if what they’d surmised about what kind of person the King had been was true.

The Hand didn’t respond of course but that was expected. However his stance seemed to finally change a little as Beheaded lifted up their crossbow and made of show of putting it on the ground. Next, they pulled their backpack off and made another show of taking out their shield and traps and placing them on the ground next to the crossbow. And just for good measure, they dropped the backpack too before splaying out their arms, palms open, as they strode closer.

This was a stupid idea, disarming themself like a fool before approaching such a dangerous foe. But they’d have ‘died’ even if they’d gone in ready to fight like they usually did. So really the only thing at stake was their pride and dignity, which, considering how many times the Hand had ‘killed’ them with seeming ease already, wouldn’t be thathurt by another such event anyway.

Proving once and fall all that the Hand was still sane, he allowed Beheaded to slowly stride close to him without jumping out to attack like he normally did. He finally moved when they were about three quarters of the way across the arena towards him, lifting a hand in a gesture to stop. It grated on their nerves to do so but they obeyed, dropping their arms to hang limp at their sides as the Hand now started slowly approaching them.

He stopped a foot or so a way, within striking distance for him but safe from them, as if they could actually do anything to him anyway. “What?” His voice was deeper than they would’ve thought but understandably full of suspicion and anger as he glared down at them. Interesting how even though his eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet along with the rest of his face, his gaze could still be felt.

Beheaded bristled under it because who was he to look so disdainfully down at them? Only because they’d already come this far, they refrained from lifting a hand to flip him off, instead they lifted their index finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture. Then, fighting every instinct they’d gained during these many, many and increasingly more dangerous and violent run throughs of the island, they turned their back on him and crouched down. They were bleeding freely from multiple wounds, their clothes stuck uncomfortably warm and wet to their body with it, making getting enough on their finger tip to write on the ground with easy.

“I was not aware you were even capable of trying to communicate,” the Hand said as they wrote. Again, they were tempted to snap around and flip him off, with both hands this time, but they refrained once more, hating it and kind of regretting attempting this. But it was too late to back down now and he should apologize profusely to them once he knew the truth. … Or if he believed their lie, assuming the Giant had been incorrect in addressing them as ‘King’ or straight up lying, either was possible.

As they finished dotting the exclamation point, they looked over what they’d written so far. ‘I am the King!’ Perhaps they should’ve gone with all caps to make it more impactful, too late now though. Now should they write more and offer an explanation? … They didn’t really have an explanation though other than the Giant had called them ‘my King’ a grand total of once. Which wasn’t a lot to go on and they weren’t sure it was true themself. So their message was fine as it was.

They hopped back up to their feet, turning to face the Hand again. Taking a step to the side, they gestured for him to come closer and read their message. He hesitated for a second or two, just glaring at them before stepping closer to look down.

Immediately his stance shifted. Beheaded began moving before he’d even started lifting his lance but was still a bit too close and not quite fast enough to get out of its range before its end was slicing diagonally through their chest.

As always the ‘death’ blow was the most painful. They started disconnecting from it and the now useless body even before hitting the ground. The thud of the body landing in the dirt helped jostle them the rest of the way out. They pulled the last of their tendrils out and…

An armored boot stomped down on them, flattening them into the dirt and blocking out their vision. Then, adding insult to injury, the boot ground roughly down into them. Rude and utterlyuncalled for! Seriously what kind of asshole did that kind of thing?

There was nothing Beheaded could do about it though. So for now, they used the bits of themself smooshing out around the boot to pull the rest of themself out. A task made more difficult by his weight pressing down on them but they were slippery enough that they could still do it rather quickly. They naturally sprang back up into a blob.

They glanced back at the Hand, glaring down at them and holding his now bloody lance at his side. Even just being able to flip him off would be nice. But they couldn’t so before any more harm could be done to their dignity, they turned their gaze away and quickly rolled off. They’d be back though. And when they returned, they were going to make him pay for being such an ass.

[moonscriptsx]

Close to You (M)

SUMMARY: You had met him when you were seven, but you fell in love with him when you were seventeen. He had been everything you'd hoped a loved one should be; until he left. Now that you've reached your twenty-first birthday, you're thrown into a deal that your parents had made when you were just a kid — and that deal involved marrying the same man who had broken your heart so long ago.

GENRE/WARNINGS: Royalty!AU, Prince!Yuta; filled with angsty reunions, mutual (but secretive) pining, and fluffy smut.

WORDS: 24.1k.

A/N: This piece will forever hold a special place in my heart. Enjoy! xx.

In your kingdom, the princess’ twenty-first birthday marked a special day amongst the citizens. It was the day that she would be officially labeled as a woman, the day that she would be shown off to all of the available princes in hopes that she would find a probable suitor to join her on the throne the moment her parents - the king and queen - had decided to step down from their rule. It was supposed to be an exciting time; a time where she would be able to open herself up and meet the different people that were scattered within the elegant ballroom as she made her rounds to greet each and every guest-- but that didn’t seem to be the case for you.

The morning of your twenty-first birthday had been eerily too calm.

Your mother and father sat peacefully at each end of the table, the two of them eating their breakfast in silence as they awaited for your presence. You had still been groggy, your eyes wiping away the remaining sleep from them as you made your way into the dining hall. You opted to take a seat in the middle, your parents on the left and right of you at both heads of the table. You smiled tiredly at one of the servants as they placed your breakfast in front of you, a quiet ‘Happy Birthday’ falling from their lips as you placed your napkin on your lap.

You hadn’t caught wind of the knowing glances between your parents, your brain not fully awake quite yet. It was almost like the quiet before the storm -- and the damage that would come in its wake is certainly severe.

At the sound of your father clearing his throat, you sat up straight, your back resting against the chair as your head turned to look at him. At the time you hadn’t known that the smile he wore on his face was one of apology, the king folding his hands onto the white cloth of the table as he leaned forward.

“Firstly,” he had began. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Your mother and I could not be more proud of the woman you have become and we cherish you dearly.”

Smiling at his words, you nodded, egging him to continue.

“As you know, your twenty-first birthday is a special event. The kingdom has already begun celebrating within the streets and there are already gifts upon gifts piling up for you in the foyer. The actual celebration will take place here in five days so do make sure that you have everything you need or want picked out and ready to go for the festivities, there will be a lot of guests so you must make sure that you look your best - however that is not what I wanted to discuss with you this morning.”

At that, you had watched as your father’s face turned serious, tension beginning to grow in the air as he leaned down and reached beside him to grab a scroll that was placed next to his chair. Your body stiffened as you watched him slide the parchment towards you, your gaze shooting towards your mother as she gave you a sad smile.

“Years ago, my dear friend Taro and I agreed to make a deal concerning both you and his son, Yuta.” You couldn’t help but flinch at the mention of his name, your heart clenching as the cracks came to life. “Given King Taro’s current situation, it seems as if there is no better option than to proceed with the plans.”

A look of pity had crossed your father’s features as he looked over at you.

“It pains me that we have to tell you such a thing on your birthday, sweetheart. If we could’ve held onto it for a little bit longer that would’ve been so much better… But I’m afraid that my dear friend has much more at stake than we do.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your father’s words as your fingers delicately plucked at the seal on the parchment, your body filled with nervousness as you carefully unscrolled the document. The silence within the dining hall was almost deafening and you could feel your breath catch in the back of your throat as you scanned over the words printed on the scroll.

On behalf of both the (L/N) family and the Nakamoto family, this document solidifies the forthcoming union between Princess (Y/N) and Prince Yuta. The union will therefore unite the two kingdoms indefinitely, signifying a promise of protection between them as a powerful ally is born. However, this shall remain undisclosed until the Princess’ twenty-first birthday, where their marriage will then be announced. If the necessary actions of the deal are not met then --

You had stopped reading after the first paragraph, your eyes wide with anger.

Nakamoto Yuta.

Just the thought of his name made your heart shatter into pieces, angry tears pricking the corners of your eyes as they fell helplessly onto the parchment. How long had it been since you’ve heard that name? Since you thought of him? Since he broke your heart…

Your angry tearful-filled gaze had landed on your father, your body shaking as you tried to control yourself.

“No.”

Your voice had been cold, but the stern tone didn’t make your father falter one bit, the king standing his ground as he picked a piece of food off of his plate and ate it quietly.

“It’s not up for discussion, sweetheart,” he replied coolly, his gaze meeting yours. “The deal was set fourteen years ago --”

“What?!” Your voice had risen and you pushed your chair back from the table as you stood up. “You made this deal when I was seven years old?!”

From the other side of the table, your mother sighed deeply as she stood up and moved to stand beside you, her arm reaching out to gently grab yours.

“Take it easy, honey,” she began softly, making you break out of her grasp as you backed away from her. “Please, just, listen to what your father has to say. There are important things happening this week and we sincerely need you to be present and happy.”

You had scoffed at that, your head shaking in disbelief, but you stayed silent. Your gaze fell back on your father, his cool stature never faltering.

“How could you,” you seethed, glaring at the man. “How could you basically sell me to him? Him?! Of all the people you could’ve picked, you gave me him!”

“What’s the big deal, honey?” Your mother cut in, confusion written on her face. “I thought the two of you got along great --”

“Yeah, well we don’t,” you snapped, making your father look up at you with anger.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that --”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me away like this!” You cried out. “And on my birthday!”

“King Taro has been through alot in these past few years,” Your father said, nonchalantly. “I’m afraid that my dear friend has decided that his time of reign is coming to a close, so he personally reached out to me and asked if the deal was still on the table. Now I made sure to keep your feelings in mind --”

“Did you, though?” You asked, harshly, making your mother hush you immediately. Your father continued, however, completely disregarding your remarks.

“I figured it was much better to be betrothed to someone you actually know instead of a complete stranger --” he paused, shooting you a look of disdain. “But, clearly, I was wrong.”

You had frowned at your father’s words, the look on his face making you feel small as your shoulders dropped in defeat, remorse clouding your anger as you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, your voice soft. “I had just thought that I would be the one to pick my husband. But, I guess in our life, things like that aren’t a choice.”

Your father’s face softened as the king stood up and walked over to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you hugged him back tightly as he spoke. “You know that if it had been anyone else I would’ve managed to get you out of this… But Taro needs this, he wants this.”

Leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, he rested his hand on your shoulder gently before drawing back.

“King Taro and Prince Yuta will be here tomorrow morning --”

“What?! --”

“They will be staying with us for three months so I hope that you will welcome them with open arms and treat them the way they should be treated. I also suggest that you give yourself time to get ready for their arrival, and I hope that you will be on your best behavior.”

And with that, he had given you one last kiss on your forehead before he left the room.

The first time you had met Nakamoto Yuta, you were seven years old.

You, your father, and your mother had all gathered around the front steps of the palace as the extravagant golden carriage had pulled up, the guards pulling the door open and revealing the family as they stepped out one by one. King Taro and Queen Nori were two of the most respectable and beautiful people you had ever gotten the pleasure to know; they were wise beyond their years and always had plenty of advice to give to those who needed it. Their hearts were full of nothing but love for everyone around them - an attribute that, no doubt, contributed to the success of their rule - and they always made sure to give their people as much as they could when it was requested for them to do so.

They were an honorable pair -- it was a wonder how they had managed to have a son who was the complete opposite of them.

Yuta Nakamoto had only been seven years old at the time but you knew that he was nothing but trouble the moment he had stepped out of that carriage. His lips had been curled up in disgust as he looked on towards the palace, his nose turning up in the air as he stood beside his parents.

“You call this a palace?”

His tone had been cocky, and you remember watching as his mother swatted at him, scolding the young boy to shut his mouth. That reaction alone had you curling into your own mother’s side, your face hiding behind her legs as you shied away from the family. It seemed like nothing was able to impress the boy; even as your family gave them a tour of the palace, Yuta’s dissatisfaction never faltered. He was, by far, the worst human you had ever encountered.

It seemed like each visit the fellow royal’s paid to your palace, the worse Yuta had gotten -- and the older you grew, the more you would fight back.

Snarky remarks were retaliated with sharp insults, the two of you fighting back and forth whenever one of you did something the other didn’t like. Your parents had joked that one day the two of you were going to end up falling in love -- and, god, you had wished that they hadn’t been right about that.

Never in your life did you think that you would’ve fallen in love with the bane of your existence. Never in your life did you think that the boy who tugged on your hair harshly and called you harsh names would be the one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush in embarrassment from compliments…

...Never in your life did you think that the person who you loved the most would be the one to shatter your heart into pieces.

It was almost like deja vu as you stood beside your parents on the front step of the palace, your breathing unsteady as you fought off the urge to cry. Your gaze is locked on the golden carriage as it stopped in front of the three of you, the guards walking towards it before they’re opening the door. The air is thick, the weather unusually chilly for early June, and you were thankful for your maids that had suggested you wear the jacket over your dress.

Straightening your posture, you watched as King Taro stepped out first, your eyes widening as you caught sight of the noticeably aging man.

The King had always been quite handsome; jet black hair, warm brown eyes, and a smile that seemed to rival the sun. He had been slightly pudgy, a feature he had always commented on saying ‘At least you know I’m eating happily!’. His looks had matched his charming and kind personality, but the man that stood before you today was nothing like that. Jet black hair was turned to a stark silver, his pudgy body completely gone, the King’s stature frail. The warmth in his eyes now held a sadness that almost made you tear up at the sight. The King’s smile seemed forced and you had wondered what exactly had made the man age so quickly.

He greeted your father first, the two men sharing a tight hug as they said their hello’s. Adjusting your weight from one foot to the other, your gaze shifted back to the carriage, and you really wished that you hadn’t looked that way.

Emerging from the carriage, in all of his glory, was Yuta. The fringe of his hair blew slightly with the wind, giving you a perfect view of his face, and you nearly choked back a sob as you fought to compose yourself. The last time you had seen him, his facial features were soft. The apples of his cheeks had been slightly puffy, but he had still been handsome. His nose was on the slightly longer side but it had complimented his face perfectly. Seventeen year old Yuta wasn’t quite that tall, either, but he certainly hadn’t been short.

But the man that had emerged from the carriage… You almost didn’t recognize him.

Much like his father, he had lost a considerable amount of weight. His puffed out cheeks were gone entirely, instead replaced by sharp cheekbones. In fact, he was striking himself. He’d grown taller since the last time you had seen him, his body thinned out, but you were able to catch sight of the definition of muscles underneath his shirt. You tried to look away from him, tried to ignore his presence -- but it just so happened that he looked towards you before you could take your eyes off of him.

You almost shivered - and it definitely wasn’t from the wind - the moment his eyes laid on yours, his gaze cold, and you didn’t notice that King Taro had stepped in front of you until you heard his voice, breaking your concentration away from his son.

“Hello, dear,” he greeted halfheartedly, and you had to keep the tears at bay when you heard the hurt in the man’s voice. Reaching out, you returned the King’s hug.

“Your Grace,” you replied, making the man chuckle as he pulled back.

“Oh, dear,” he patted your cheek softly. “How many times do I have to tell you - you are free to call me Sir.”

Stepping back from you, you sent him a small smile as you watched him return to your father’s side. Gazing past the King, you finally noticed the absence of the Queen, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you watched the carriage began to ride off to the stables. Holding your breath, you watched as Yuta greeted your mother with a rigid hug, your jaw clenching as your arms stayed frozen by your side. You could feel your heart clench painfully as the Prince stepped in front of you, butterflies forming in the pit of your stomach as his gaze settled on yours.

And then the memories flooded your mind.

All of the hugs, all of the kisses, all of the love you had felt for the man who was now standing in front of you -- it all came rushing back to you at full force.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat as you bowed your head towards him, your gaze falling to the ground, and you had hoped that that would suffice as a greeting but Yuta seemed to have other plans.

A bolt of electricity flowed through you as he grabbed your hand and brought it up to his face, his lips barely ghosting against the flesh of your knuckles as his gaze stayed locked on your face.

“It’s good to see you again, my love.”

My love.

Your skin felt on fire from just the simple brush of his lips against your skin as your gaze met his -- your breath caught in your throat as your heart sped up, Yuta’s grip on your hand tightening as he stared back at you...

...And then you snapped.

All of the repressed feelings you had kept in were suddenly letting loose, your lips tightly pressing together as the tears begin to fall. Turning your head away from Yuta, you hurriedly whispered to your mother that you had to use the bathroom before you excused yourself and made your way back into the palace.

The faint sound of music played softly from inside of the palace as you walked through the gardens, your gaze locked on the night sky as you stared up at the stars glistening brightly. The ball your parents were throwing had become far too much for you, the constant greetings you had to give to the guests making you feel stuffy each time you had met someone new, so you had taken the opportunity to escape when your father had gained their attention to make a speech about how happy he was that everyone had gathered together.

The palace gardens had always been your escape spot. The acres and acres of field filled with the variety of flowers filled you with a sense of peace and happiness, the colorful petals setting your mind at ease as you made yourself comfortable on the edge of the fountain. The setting was serene; the delightful smell of the plants mixed with the therapeutic sounds of the water giving you a sense of comfort.

The first time you had been granted the chance to experience the extravagant gardens, you were five years old. Your mother had told you that she wanted to show you her favorite spot in the castle and you - as a child - had thought that it was going to be somewhere within the castle walls. But the moment she had led you down the long walkway leading into the elegant entryway of the gardens, you were mesmerized by the sight before your eyes. The colorful aesthetics and refreshing smell had automatically made you feel a sense of warmth, the nature making you feel happily at home within the confinements of the gardens.

It seemed as if you were experiencing that all over again each time you had entered the gardens, the feeling never getting old as you would plop down underneath the large oak tree with a book just a few feet away from where you were sitting now. Leaning back against the bench, you breathe in your surroundings, letting yourself relish in the cool air that breezed past you.

“So this is where you escaped to.”

A deep voice startled you, your eyes snapping open as your head turned to focus on the grinning face of Yuta. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you an amused expression. Sheepishly sending him a smile, you shrugged your shoulders and moved over on the bench, prompting him to take a seat next to you.

“It was getting a bit stuffy in there,” you admitted, making the Prince nod.

“Understandable,” he agreed. “But next time you should tell me where you’re running off to -- I got worried.”

His grin doesn’t falter as he nudged you playfully, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you bit your lip bashfully.

“Sorry,” you apologized softly, making Yuta chuckle.

“It’s alright, Princess,” he winked flirtatiously, making your blush deepen. “I found you, didn’t I?”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, the only audible sounds being the soft whirring of the wind and the music playing from inside. Your gaze is locked on the sky, your eyes tracing over every star as you try not to pay attention to the weight of Yuta’s gaze on you. You can see him out of your peripheral vision, the Prince’s eyes tracing over your form, and you almost jerk in surprise when you feel his hand on top of yours, your gaze breaking from the glistening stars to land on Yuta’s smiling face.

“Care to dance, my love?”

Your heart sped up at the nickname, another blush coating your cheeks, before you nodded your head and let him help you stand. His fingers slid in between the spaces of yours effortlessly, his grip on your hand gentle as he pulled you towards him. The warmth radiated off of his body as the two of you pressed together, his free hand settling on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder.

Underneath the stars in the night sky, the two of you paid no attention to your surroundings, your gazes only on one another as you danced to the beat of the music. Your cheek pressed against his as you rested your chin on his shoulder, Yuta humming quietly in your ear as he brought you closer to him. The feathery touch of his lips against your forehead had you sinking into him, and you swore that he was able to feel the rapid beat of your heart against his chest as the two of you danced.

That had been the night you had began to fall for the Prince.

My love...

Yuta’s soft whispers of the nickname filled your mind, thoughts and memories of countless nights of the love the two of you shared together plaguing your mind as you choked back a sob. They replayed over and over again like a movie on repeat as you climbed the stairs, your vision blurred from the onslaught of tears streaming down your face, your breathing ragged as the hurt enveloped you.

You had barely managed to make it to the first floor when you stumbled into the library and slammed the door shut, you body collapsing against the wood as the tears fell freely down your face. Placing your head into your hands, you let the heartache consume you. You never thought that seeing Yuta again would affect you as badly as it did but the moment you had laid eyes on him, the memories that you had stored away decided to come back without any second thought.

When your eyes met his, you were instantly reminded of the warmth his gaze had held when he had looked at you so long ago; the gaze that was filled with nothing but love. The man you had seen just minutes ago was no longer the same person he had been when you had fallen in love with him -- the warmth in his eyes had been gone and he was stone faced. But then he had kissed your hand, the simple graze of his lips leaving you wanting more as they brushed the flesh of your knuckles.

A faint knock on the door of the library has you recomposing yourself immediately, your hands hastily wiping at the tears that drizzled down your cheeks, and you push yourself up off of the floor and dust your dress off before taking a deep breath. You had barely gotten it together before the door slid open, your gaze settling on one of your mother’s maids, her lips turning upwards into an apologetic smile before she curtsied.

“Sorry to bother you, your highness,” her voice was soft as she spoke and you forced a smile as she straightened her posture. “Your mother requested for you to join her, the King, and the guests for brunch. She also requested that you wear something appropriate for the occasion.”

Fighting back the urge to roll your eyes at your mother’s requests, you nodded obediently before following the woman out of the library, not in the slightest bit ready to deal with whatever it was that was going to happen.

Cursing silently to yourself, you held the skirt of your dress up as you glided down the staircase, the silky light blue material flowing freely behind you with every step you took. Your mother had laid out the garment for you by the time you had reached your room to get changed with her demand that you present yourself as the graceful Princess that she had raised you to be making you almost gag with irritation. The dress was beautiful, though. The light blue silk felt as soft as a feather on your body, the bodice of the dress covered in subtle silver crystals while the lace sleeves were off your shoulders. A pair of plain white pumps were adorned on your feet, the heels already pinching your feet as you made your way into the dining room, four gazes landing on you as you entered the room.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders as your gaze swept over everyone in the room, your posture straight as a board as you bowed politely towards your parents and King Taro, completely brushing off Yuta. The two Kings occupied the head of the table while your mother sat on the right of your father and Yuta was smack dab in the middle of all of them. Biting the inside of your cheek, you had hoped that you would be able to sit on the other side of your father when your mother’s voice rang throughout the hall, your stomach fluttering nervously as she pointed to the seat next to the Prince himself.

“Why don’t you sit next to Yuta,” her voice was stern, and you knew not to object when your mother’s voice held the authoritative tone. “You are getting married, after all.”

Your mother’s words made King Taro chuckle, the deep rumble reverberating off of the marbled walls.

“The two of them were inseparable the last time we were here,” he said, grinning. “Wherever one was the other would always be with them.”

You had made a move to pull the chair out when you felt a hand place on top of yours, an electric shock coursing through you as your gaze landed on Yuta’s. His eyes held nothing but distance and a feeling of coldness as he stared down at you, your throat feeling as if it’s going to close up from nervousness as you stepped back from him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Your stomach churned at the tightened tone of the nickname, hearing it the second time around most definitely did not have the same affect on you as it had the first time. Gritting your teeth, you say nothing back to him as you sit down on the chair, reaching forward to grab your utensils as Yuta pushed your chair back in towards the table.

An uncomfortable tension flowed between the two of you and you were pretty sure the three adults could feel it considering your father had cleared his throat to break the deafening silence, the King grabbing his wine glass before taking a sip.

“Taro and Yuta, it is such a pleasure and honor having you both back here. I was beginning to think that I was never going to be able to see you again.”

The silver-haired man took a bite of his food before he nodded at your father’s words, an apologetic smile crossing his lips as he looked up from his plate.

“My apologies for that, old friend,” he began. “Both Yuta and I needed some time for ourselves before we could get back into the flow of things once again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the King’s words, but before you could say anything your father spoke up instead.

“That is completely understandable,” he nodded, agreeing with his friend. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the two of you.”

Glancing between the two King’s, you finally decided to speak.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir,” you spoke carefully, the King nodding for you to continue. “What happened?”

King Taro’s face became solemn as the dining hall became silent, your father clearing his throat as the tension started back up. You felt Yuta stiffen next to you, his knuckles turning white from gripping the fork too tight, and you feel like crawling into a hole, afraid that you had asked the wrong question.

But then Taro is giving you a smile, and even though it didn’t reach his eyes, he still looked happy about the topic.

“I’m taking it as your father and mother haven’t told you?” He shot your father a look making the other King raise his hands up in defense.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

A quiet ‘ah’ left Taro then, his head nodding towards your father in understanding before he’s turning back to look at you.

“About four years ago, my darling wife, Nori, came down with a sickness. Within those four years, she had her ups and downs with it until it, unfortunately, took her from us for good.”

Your eyes widened in shock at that and you couldn’t help but feel remorse and pity for the man, your hands folding on your lap as you sat back against the chair.

The drastic appearance of both the King and Prince finally made sense -- and your heart began to ache for the two of them. Knowing that they were by the loving Queen’s side while she was sick and in her last moments, knowing that they watched her deteriorate each and every day… It was no wonder why they both looked so completely different from before. The stress and emotional strain must’ve been far too much for them to handle.

Bowing your head, you keep your focus on the linoleum floor as you spoke.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you apologized softly, your gaze shifting towards the ground. “I had no idea --”

“It’s quite alright, dearie,” he reassured you, giving you a small smile. “Given that your father hadn’t informed you on anything I suspect that you were curious as to where she is.”

Sheepishly you nodded, making the King chuckle.

“While these past few years have been on the rough side, I have come to accept everything that has happened. My dear Nori was a one-of-a-kind woman, you know. She had the kindest eyes, the smartest brain, and a heart full of love. She was an extraordinary woman -- and she absolutely adored you.”

Taro’s finger pointed in your direction, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“In fact,” he paused, taking a sip of his wine. “She was the one who brought up the deal me and your father had made so long ago. It was her wish before she passed on -- she wanted what’s best for her son, and that is you, my dear.”

The way he spoke about his wife made your heart swell, the King’s blatant admiration for woman he loved so admirable and beautiful that you had to choke back tears. What made it worse was the fact that the Queen, herself, had asked for this -- that she had adored you so much that she wanted nothing more than for her son to marry you.

“I can see why she wanted you to be her successor,” Taro continued. “The more time we spend here, the more I realize that you are so much like her. You’re going to make a great Queen one day, dear.”

A fork slammed against the elegant dish and your head snapped to look up at Yuta, his expression unreadable as he stood up from the table and bowed.

“If you’ll excuse me,” his voice was rough, almost like he was holding back tears. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air.”

Before he could walk away, however, his father’s voice stopped him.

“Take (Y/N) with you,” he said, voice stern. “The two of you should catch up, it’s been a while.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright --”

“Nonsense,” he waved you off, gesturing for Yuta to help you up. “The two of you will be married soon, you might as well bond a little bit before everything is set in stone.”

You opted to stay silent as you stood up from the chair, brushing off Yuta’s attempt to help you up, before you bowed and made your way out of the dining hall. An uncomfortable feeling slipped between you and Yuta as the Prince had caught up to you, his pace falling in step with yours as the two of you walked out onto the balcony and towards the gardens.

You could feel Yuta’s sadness radiating off of him, the stone-faced Prince staring straight ahead as the two of you walked down the cobblestone walkway leading to the gardens.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” you said quietly, making Yuta’s head snap over to look at you, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know all of that was happening.”

“Yeah,” he pursed his lips, tone cold. “Thanks for that.”

His standoffish persona has you backtracking, your eyes widening at his blunt tone, and you can already feel the pent up anger towards him begin to bubble within you. As the two of you passed through the entryway of the gardens, your heart sped up at the destination, your mind floating back to the last time the two of you had been here together, and you’re clenching your fists as you struggle to walk ahead of Yuta.

“Can you slow down?”

His voice was harsh, eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at you, and you can’t help but let out a humorless laugh as you mirror his glare.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t keep up,” you bit back, making Yuta scoff.

“I can keep up,” he huffed, now walking next to you. “I just don’t understand why you’re walking so damn fast --”

“Maybe I don’t want to walk next to you,” you cut him off harshly, shooting him daggers. You caught sight of something glinting in his eyes but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it had been.

“What’s your problem, (Y/N)?” Your name fell from his lips with venom and you had to fight back a shiver from the tone. “Is this how you treat your guests?”

Stopping in your tracks, you gave him an incredulous look, your jaw clenching as the anger began to flare up inside of you.

“My problem? You’re the one that’s been acting cold to me since you got here,” you spat harshly.

“I’ve been acting cold?” He asked, scoffing. “You’re the one that looks at me like I should be buried three feet under!”

“You should!” You seethed. “You’re lucky that I’m even talking to you!”

“You know,” he began, giving you a harsh look. “I came here thinking we could start fresh and actually be civil with one another --”

“Why would I be civil with someone who leaves without saying goodbye to the woman they supposedly love?!”

Yuta stepped back at that, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and you laughed humorlessly at his reaction.

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes. “You have nothing to say to that.”

“My love --”

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped at him, hurt coating your words. “You don’t have the privilege of calling me that anymore!”

Stepping closer to him, you let your finger push into his chest as you glared menacingly at him.

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was you who made me like this. You are the one that walked out on me without saying a goddamn word about where you had gone or that you were even leaving in the first place! How you can leave someone after telling them you love them and spending the night with them… God, I don’t even want to be near you, Yuta.”

The anger meshed with the hurt you had kept locked up inside of you was spilling out un-apologetically and you had to fight back the stinging of tears as you closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. Dropping your hand so that it rested by your side, you took a deep breath before focusing your watery gaze on the speechless Prince.

“Enjoy your walk, your highness.”

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked away, not sparing Yuta one last glance as you made your way back into the palace.

“Yuta we’re going to get in trouble --”

“Relax, Princess,” the Prince had chuckled, sending you a mischievous grin. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to get to know your land and its people.”

Even as Yuta’s hand enveloped yours warmly, you couldn’t help but to still feel anxious about entering town. Your parents had a strict policy when it came to coming in contact with the townspeople; the only time you had ever been allowed to acknowledge their presence was when they were invited to the castle for the annual wish granting, any other interaction was strictly prohibited. You had never understood why your parents - specifically your mother - had kept you from meeting your people; if you were going to be the future of the kingdom, why were you not allowed to meet those who inhabited said kingdom.

Clutching onto Yuta’s hand as you neared closer to the bustling town, you could already feel the apprehension forming in your stomach as a few passersby’s couldn’t help but gawk at the two of you as you subconsciously shift closer towards Yuta. Tightening his hold on your hand, his protective grip sets your mind at ease as the two of you enter the town. The hectic streets are filled with the citizens; some working in the shops lined along the streets, others buying the goods that they needed.

As you headed deeper within the heart of the village you noticed the prying eyes of the folks around you, their wide-eyed stares making your stomach churn in nervousness as you clung onto the Prince. His deep chuckle vibrated into the air as he peered down at you, a gentle smile on his face.

“It’s alright, Princess,” he murmured softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand in reassurement. “They’re just not used to seeing you outside of the castle.”

Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you nodded at his words, believing that what he had said is true.

Your weary gaze is still locked on those around you as Yuta began to pull you towards the main street of the pavilion, your focus only breaking away from the prying eyes when the Prince had pulled you in front of him so you could glance at the event that had been going on. In the center of the square was a band, a group of people dancing happily along to the music as the crowd around them clapped along to the beat. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight, the happiness around you becoming incredibly infectious, and you found yourself beginning to clap along to the beat.

From behind you, Yuta wrapped his arms around your form, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you carefully, the ghost of a smile dancing across his plump lips as you stayed looking straight ahead. His eyes swept over your features as he took in every curvature of your face before the Prince averted his attention to the dancers. You hadn’t the slightest clue of Yuta’s next plans so when he had grabbed your hands and tugged you towards the front of the crowd, your eyes had widened in surprise as the Prince spun you around to face him, the two of you now standing with the other dancers.

An anxious feeling washed over you as you wearily looked around at the shocked crowd only to have Yuta’s hand gently grasp your chin before he turned you back to look at him. His gaze was gentle, lips turned upwards into a dazzling smile, and he wrapped one arm around your waist before tugging you closer to him.

“Don’t focus on them,” he told you quietly, his hand dropping from your face so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours. “Just look at me, alright? I’ve got you.”

Yuta’s warm demeanor had you trusting him within an instant, the anxiety dissipating the moment he softly kissed your hand and began dancing with you. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you let the Prince lead you as the two of you began to dance to the upbeat tempo of the music. Grinning widely at you, Yuta spun you around before settling you back in front of him, the two of you dancing in a circle along with the others.

It was a peculiar feeling, really -- never in your life had you felt as free as you had in that moment. The way you were able to let go of all your worries and doubts and just dance in the street with your best friend -- it was liberating. You couldn’t help but match the Prince’s grin, your eyes never breaking from his as he lifted you up into the air before gently placing you back down, your body spinning back to him before he’s clutching you tightly. The cheers and claps of the crowd are becoming static noise as you lose yourself in the warm gaze of Yuta’s eyes, your heart swelling with adoration for the young Prince as he stared back at you.

All too soon the music had stopped and the crowd’s cheers grew louder in volume as you snapped out of your daze, a warm blush coating your cheeks as you drew back from Yuta and faced the crowd. Bowing politely, you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you peered on at the townspeople. There was a small part of you that had envied them, you envied their freedom and free will to do whatever it was they wanted without having to follow any set of rules. You envied that they were allowed to roam freely, getting to meet new people and see new places -- but most of all, you envied the genuine happiness that seemed to be radiating off of every single one of them.

The sight a little girl running towards you broke you out of your daze, your hands reaching out to catch her before she had crashed into you and fallen down. Steadying her, you watch as her mother hurriedly walked up to grab her daughter, eyes wide with what seemed like fear as she bowed in respect.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” she apologized, her head still bowed. “I tried to stop her before --”

“It’s alright,” you reassured the woman with a smile, your gaze dropping to the face of the little girl as you crouched to reach her height.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you cooed, making the little girl grow shy as she hid behind her mother’s leg. “No need to be shy, honey. I just wanted to talk to you.”

The little girl’s eyes scanned your appearance as she decided whether or not to trust you, her eyes narrowing as she clung onto her mother’s leg.

“Are you a princess?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the high pitched voice, your head nodding in affirmation to her words.

“I am,” you grinned. “Are you?”

The little girl shook her head, frowning.

“No,” she replied quietly, clutching her mother’s dress. “I could never be a princess.”

You frowned at that, a look of pity crossing your features as you caught sight of the sadness on her face. Glancing around, you saw a man selling several crowns of flowers to the crowd of onlookers, an idea popping into your head as you held up your pointer finger to little girl and murmured a soft ‘wait’ to her before you stood up and walked over to the man. You ignored the look of surprise on the man’s face as you bowed politely towards him, your head nodding towards the crowns.

“How much for a crown, sir?” You asked, making his eyes widen.

“You can have one for free, your highness --”

“Nonsense,” you laughed, waving your hand at him. “I am apart of this town so I should have to pay for one much like everyone else here.”

As you finished speaking, a hand was placed in between the two of you, two coins resting in the palm of the hand and you looked back to see the smiling face of Yuta as he handed the money to the man. Reaching for the crown with red roses, you thanked the man for the headpiece before bowing goodbye and making your way back towards the little girl. Bending down, you gestured for her to come closer.

“You, sweetheart,” you began, gently taking her hand so she could stand in front of you. “Will now and forever be known as a little princess.”

Taking the crown with both hands, you placed it gingerly on the top of her head, watching as the little girl beamed with delight.

“I’m a princess?” She asked in excitement, making you nod.

“You are most certainly a princess, sweetheart.”

You watched as she turned back towards her mother, the little girl excitedly boasting about her new title, and you couldn’t help but grin as you watched a group of other kids come up to you.

You and Yuta spent the whole day exploring the town and getting to know the people who inhabited your land, each and every one of them so very different from the last. You were incredibly humbled by it, your heart soaring at the kindness of those of whom you were responsible for governing over, and you found a new feeling of adoration for the citizens.

The sun was beginning to set as you and Yuta began walking back towards the castle, the smile never faltering from your face as you looked up at the Prince, happiness enveloping your body as you bravely reached up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmured, making Yuta look at you in shock from the action. “I had a great time.”

Letting a smile grace his lips, the Prince reached down to grab your hand, his fingers sliding in between the spaces of yours before he brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“I’m serious, Yuta,” you said, looking up at him. “I never knew what it was like outside of those castle walls, I was beginning to feel suffocated in there. But you… You have shown me so much already. There are so many great things I’m discovering and it’s all because of you.”

The two of you had stopped walking by this point, Yuta not saying a word as he looked down at you. You could feel your heart beginning to speed up as he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand gently grasping the back of your neck as you watched him begin to lean down. A soft gasp escaped your lips the moment you felt his press to yours, your hand clutching the lapel of his jacket as he kissed you softly. It felt like a thousand butterflies had taken flight in your stomach as your lips moved slowly against his, trying to get a sense of the rhythm before he had pulled away.

Yuta is smiling dreamily, eyes hooded in a daze, and he’s resting his forehead against yours as his thumb gently stroked the curve of your jaw.

“Princess…” His voice was breathless, a slight husky tone coating it, and you looked up at him as his gaze fell back on your lips. “My Princess…”

That had been enough for you to grasp the sides of his face and bring him back down to your lips, the second kiss between the two of you ensuing as you felt yourself melt into him. That day had been a special day full of firsts -- and it had been so worth the scolding you had gotten from your mother when the two of you had arrived back at the castle.

“So you’re getting married to him?” The blonde questioned, making you huff as you rested back against your bed.

“Unfortunately,” you mumbled.

Your party was only two days away and everyone was already running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Everyone was seemingly scattered around the palace hurriedly trying to get everything in order for Friday night. You, on the other hand, had absolutely nothing to worry about. Now that you were finished with your mother’s pre-planning duties she had set out for you, you were enjoying yourself inside the confinements of your room along with your best friend and fellow Princess from right across the sea, Miyoung.

You had successfully managed to avoid Yuta for the next two days, the Prince being called upon by your father to help get the festivities ready for your birthday party at the end of the week. While they were doing that, you were obediently following your mother’s orders as to what you had to do to prepare for the party as well. One day was filled with nothing but dress fittings - something that you dreaded entirely - while another day was filled with the etiquette you had to learn in regards to greeting the guests and acting towards them now that you were of age.

The gown you had decided on was beyond gorgeous, even if it was a tad bit hard to breathe in. It was an off-the-shoulder gown in a deepened rich red color with a silver detailed pattern of flowers adorning the bodice. The bottom flowed out freely, the gown - no doubt - the epitome of a so-called ‘Princess Gown’. It hugged your body perfectly, every curve and bump accentuated by the design of the dress.

Miyoung’s eyebrow rose in question as her gaze fell on you.

“Why unfortunately?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought you loved him?”

Sighing heavily, you looked up at the different designs carved into your ceiling, your gaze falling on the abstract fixtures as you shrugged.

“I thought so too,” you murmured. “I just… It hurts too much to be around him.”

Laying down next to you, the blonde nodded in acknowledgement as she made a small noise of agreement.

“I understand,” she reassured you. “I can’t imagine how you felt when you found out that you had to marry the same guy who broke your heart.”

Miyoung was the only one who had known about yours and Yuta’s relationship. The two of you had snuck around for all of the three months he had been here, hiding it from your parents in fear that they would disapprove of it all. Had you known that he was going to be the man you were going to marry one day… Perhaps things would’ve played out differently then they were now.

Shaking your head, you break yourself out of your thoughts as you turned towards the blonde, a smile on your face.

“Have you decided what you’re wearing on Friday?” You asked her, making her grin widely.

“I have, actually,” she hummed softly. “Do you remember that pink dress I wore to my party? The one with the silver crystals on the skirt? That one.”

“Ah, that dress is gorgeous!” You clapped excitedly making Miyoung laugh.

“Not as gorgeous as yours,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to see you in it! You’re going to be turning a lot of heads, girl.”

That made you frown, a soft sigh escaping you as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Too bad I can’t enjoy the looks,” you pouted.

Miyoung pursed her lips, her perfectly manicured nails gently tapping against your frame as she gazed at you in question.

“I think you’re taking it worse than you should, (Y/N),” she said quietly. “Did you ever think to give him a chance to explain himself? To let him tell you why he ended up leaving?”

Your frown deepened at her words, guilt filling your body as you shook your head.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m afraid to know why.”

“What makes you so afraid?”

“I’m afraid that he’s going to tell me it wasn’t real,” you admitted. “That he never really loved me…”

Miyoung let out a quiet ‘Aww’ before enveloping you in a hug.

“You can’t think like that, (Y/N),” she reprimanded softly. “You can’t live your life in fear.”

You stayed silent as you hugged her back, the frown never leaving your lips.

Your mind drifted back to the other day with Yuta, your heart scolding you for treating him the way you did, and you can feel the guilt begin to eat at you as you sighed heavily, breaking away from your friend.

A knock at the door has the two of you jumping up, your hands fixing the bottom of your dress as the door opened. Holding your breath, your shoulders straightened into alignment as you watched the aforementioned Prince walk in, the man bowing politely towards Miyoung before turning to you.

“Your mother requested for both you and I to be in the ballroom. She said something about dance lessons for the two of us --”

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” you cursed, making Yuta raise an eyebrow at the profanity. Turning to look at Miyoung, you offered your friend a sheepish smile.

“Would you like to come watch? Or you can stay in here if you’d like --”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go practice my archery skills,” she laughed. “Jaehyun is going to be at your party and I am determined to beat him at the archery match -- especially since the kid has beaten me three years in a row now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend’s pout as she mentioned the other Prince, your head shaking in amusement as you waved goodbye to her and followed Yuta out of the room. There was an awkward silence between the two of you as you walked together, Miyoung’s voice replaying in your head as you thought about what she had said when it came to giving Yuta a chance to explain himself.

You wanted to, you really did, but the hurt that enveloped your heart was far too much to even think about, let alone letting him reopen the wounds he had caused. You would much rather suffer in silence than to face the problem head on, the fear of knowing what the true answer was being far more terrifying than asking the Prince himself.

As the pair of you made your way into the ballroom, you almost groaned in embarrassment at the sight of your mother and father dancing crazily in the middle of the floor, your hand covering your face as you watched your father dip her.

“Why are you like this?” You groaned, making your father laugh heartily, the King happily bounding over to you before taking your hand.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he grinned widely. “We’re just having a little bit of fun. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

From beside you, you heard Yuta chuckle, the sound shocking you as you peered over at the Prince who was grinning widely.

“I agree, Sir,” he laughed. “This one never knows how to loosen up and have fun.”

You frowned at his words.

“I know how to have fun,” you scoffed, making Yuta smirk.

“Prove it, then.”

Your father gestured for the orchestra to begin playing, a slow tempo song emitting from the instruments, and you watched as Yuta held his hand out to you, gesturing towards the dance floor. Hesitantly, you took his hand, allowing the Prince to bring you with him before he clasped his hand over yours.

As you rested your hand on Yuta’s shoulder, you bravely let your gaze meet his, and you couldn’t stop the fluttering of your heart as you watched the warmth return to his eyes. His cold stature was nowhere to be found as he pulled you close to him, his left arm wrapping around your waist comfortably whilst his right hand clung tightly to yours. The two of you began to waltz, never once breaking the eye contact.

It was a familiar setting - much like the night he had followed you out into the gardens - and the nostalgia has you clinging onto him tightly as the two of you drifted together. It’s almost like everything around you disappeared; your father, your mother, the orchestra. All that you saw was the man you loved right before your eyes.

The man you loved…

A ragged breath falls from your lips as you try to compose yourself at the feeling of love enveloping your heart, the organ beginning to reconstruct itself just from the simple touch of Yuta’s hands on yours. At that moment all of the hurt seemed to dissipate into nothing, the only remaining emotion being love as you looked up at him. And then the words were falling out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about the whole situation.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, making Yuta’s eyebrows furrow. “For the other night.”

He stared at you for a moment before the realization sunk in, his face softening and his grip on you tightening as he tugged you flush against him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” the soft rumble of his voice made a shiver run down your spine. “Everything you said -- you were right. It is my fault.”

“Yuta --”

“Just listen, (Y/N),” he cut you off, silencing you with a pointed look. “I didn’t want to leave you that morning. I wanted nothing more than to hold you as the sun was coming up, to see what you looked like when you basked in the beautiful morning glow of the sun. I wanted to do it all again the moment you had woken up…”

His words brought tears to your eyes and you couldn’t help but let one fall as you looked up at him with a watery gaze.

“Then why did you do it ?” Your voice broke as you spoke, a lonesome tear escaping as you sucked in a breath. “Why did you leave me?”

Opening his mouth to speak, Yuta was instantly cut off by the booming voice of his father, the Prince frowning as he looked over at the King.

“Sorry, dear,” Taro apologized, giving you a sorrowful look. “Do you mind if I stole my son away for a little while? I need to speak with him about something.”

Nodding your head, you bowed towards the King before stepping away from Yuta, your lips pressed together in a tight smile as you wiped away a lonesome tear that had managed to escape. You turned to walk away when Yuta had grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to him.

“Meet me in the gardens at midnight,” he whispered in your ear, the proximity of him making a shiver run down your spin, his hot breath fanning against your cheek as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, my love…”

The desperation in his tone and eyes were enough to get you to agree, your head nodding in acknowledgement to his words, and he lets out a breath of relief before sending you a smile that looked like it could rival the sun itself. Lifting your hand to his lips, Yuta pressed a soft kiss to the flesh before gently letting it rest back at your side. His gaze stayed on you until he was by his father’s side, the Prince sending you one last smile before you were left there alone with burning cheeks and a fluttering stomach.

The last summer that Yuta and his family had stayed with you was full of nothing but adventures; the two of you explored every inch of the castle. All of the secret passageways and hidden rooms were discovered, the two of you going through every nook and cranny the palace had to offer. It was filled with smiles and laughter, days filled with laying in the courtyard and looking up at the clouds while the nights were spent in the gardens where secrets and life-long dreams were revealed. It had been a time of getting to know one another, a time when all you ever knew was the dashing brunette Prince. Yuta had made you come alive; he showed you the life that laid beyond the castle walls. He took you into town and had gotten you to open up to the people of your land, getting to know them on a more personal level as opposed to just being their Princess.

You fell in love with him that summer; the young boy that had been judgmental and cruel transformed into a charming young man, a man that had managed to capture your heart with his knee-weakening smile.

That summer was filled with secretive kisses, longing touches, and eyes glimmering of adventure. It was filled with shy glances, tender grazes of hands, and words full of love. You had felt on top of the world, like a newly crowned Queen spending the rest of her life with her King. Yuta was everything you had hoped a lover would be -- and then he left.

That night had been brisk, it was an unusually chilly summer’s night in the middle of July and you were clothed in your favorite plain black dress with a black jacket zipped over it, gold military style flowers adorning the coat as you made your way up the staircase to your room. You had just finished the duties you had been ordered to do for your mother and you were more than happy to finally be able to go up to your room and rest for the night.

The hallway windows were propped open, the chilly air whipping past you as you made your way down the corridor, your arms wrapping around your body as a way to keep warm. As you turned the corner to reach your bed quarters, you stopped short when you spotted the familiar stature of Yuta, the Prince leaning against the wall as he looked out the window. Your heart sped up at the sight of him, your stomach fluttering nervously, and you watched as he turned his head to look at you the moment he heard the soft click of your heels against the stone of the floor.

“Good evening, my love,” he cooed at you, reaching for you as you drew closer to him. Beaming brightly at the Prince, you let your arms loop around his neck as you pushed up on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Good evening, my Prince,” you whispered softly against his mouth, making Yuta’s arm tighten around your waist.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated the darkened corridor as the two of you stood in the comforting embrace of one another, neither of you making a move to break away. Yuta’s arms always served as a place of comfort for you, the two limbs wrapping around you and bringing you into a place that felt a lot like home. He was warm, he was gentle, and you had been quick to realize that there was no other place you’d rather be than right there in his arms.

Tilting your head up so that your gaze settled on Yuta’s, you had let a small smile grace your lips before you gently grasped the sides of his face and brought him down to you. His lips molded perfectly against yours, a small sound of contentment escaping from you, and your thumbs gently stroke the apples of his cheeks as your lips move with his. Feeling his arms tighten around you, you laugh lightly against his mouth as he tugged you closer, the Prince smirking against your lips as his hands sneakily slid down to rest on your butt. The cheeky action makes you mewl against him, your body pressing closer to his as Yuta growled lowly.

Tightening his grip on your waist, the Prince hoisted you up and spun you around until you were pressed against the bricks of the wall, his hands capturing yours and pinning them above your head. The kiss escalates as Yuta’s tongue runs along the flesh of your bottom lip, a soft moan falling from your lips as you oblige his silent request. The heat between your bodies grows as he pressed his body flush against yours, your back pinned to the wall, and you can feel your breath hitch when his hips rolled into yours.

In the soft glow of the moonlight, Yuta’s features were illuminating in a way that made him appear almost angelic, your gaze settling on him when he pulled away to let his lips trail down the length of your neck. Trying to break free out his grasp so you could touch him, you whined quietly making the Prince smirk against your flesh. One hand dropped from your wrist - but before you could react he’s grabbing it with his other hand - and he’s grasping your chin gently, his head leaving your neck so that he could look up at you.

His eyes are locked on yours, the heated gaze of warm chestnut irises seemingly igniting a fire within your lower body, and you repress a shudder as his lips grazed against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath fanning against your face. “I’m so fucking in love with you, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened as the words fell from his lips, your own parting in surprise as you drew back slightly to look at him. Yuta’s eyes were hooded, long lashes gently grazing against your cheek, and you could feel the butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as a warm blush swept over your face. You scanned the Prince’s face for any sign that would give away that he was joking -- but you found none.

Your heart felt like it had swelled twice in size as you reached for him and hastily pulled him towards you, your lips smashing roughly onto his. Yuta let out a noise of shock but kissed you back nonetheless, his hands still grasping your face as your lips moved in sync.

“I love you too,” you panted against his mouth, making the Prince moan lowly.

Wrapping your arms around Yuta’s waist, you gently pushed him back towards the door of your room before blindly reaching out to grab the knob and stumbling into the darkness. Your lips moved feverishly against his as the two of you tumble onto the bed, your body on top of his, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth when you felt his hands begin to slide up your back, his fingers resting on the ties of your dress before he’s undoing them.

His name falls from your lips in a breathless sigh, your mouth parting from his as the Prince turned you over so that you were now resting against the bed. Plump lips press soft kisses against the skin on your neck, his tongue teasingly sliding along your flesh as his fingertips dance along the back of your neck.

“Are you sure about this, my love?”

His words were muffled against your skin but you still heard him, your head nodding in acknowledgement as you tugged at the dark tresses of his hair.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life.”

Yuta pulled away at that, his face becoming leveled with yours, and in the darkness you can make out the soft features as he smiled earnestly, his hand gently caressing your face as he leaned down to peck your lips.

“I love you.”

You beamed, pulling him back down to you so you could feel his lips on yours again.

“I love you too.”

That night, there was no rushing. It was slow, it was earnest, and it was full of nothing but love. Yuta had taken his time with you, mapping out every inch and curve of your body almost like he was saving it in his memory. The heated kisses transitioned into slow, passionate ones, and you could remember the exact feeling it had given you when you felt his plush lips trail along the length of your body. His hands had held yours the entire time, fingers tightly interlocked as he had filled you up -- and god, it had felt nothing short of incredible. He moved slow, savoring the feeling of being inside of you, and he made sure that his love was known. The whispered words against your lips only heightened the pleasure and before you had knew it, the two of you were in a tangled sweaty heap as you drifted off to sleep.

But then you had woken up to an abnormally cold morning, your body shivering as your eyes had adjusted to the light of the sun seeping through your window. You had turned over, expecting Yuta to be there, but you were met with an empty space, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach as you all but stumbled out of bed and hastily grabbed your dressing robe.

You could remember the panic that had rushed through you as you raced down the stairs, the stinging of tears pricking your eyes as you caught side of your mother entering from the front doors. All she had to do was take one look at you to know what you were going to ask -- and that was when you wished you hadn’t gotten out of bed, when you wished the night before hadn’t happened.

“Yuta didn’t tell you he was leaving this morning, did he?”

And that had been your breaking point.

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, you weren’t sure why you had trusted him in the first place, you weren’t sure why you had agreed to meet him in the stupid gardens at midnight. How could you have been so naive to believe that he would stay true to his word? That he actually wanted to fix things? That maybe - just maybe - his love for you had been real.

But here you were, helplessly staring up at the night sky as tears streamed down your face at the memory. The cracks in your heart that had begun to seal up were now reopened, your chest clenching painfully as you laid down onto the stone bench as you let your cries fill the air.

Yuta never showed up.

Numb.

That was all you felt as you trudged into the dining hall for breakfast the next day. The clenching in your chest had ceased. Now you felt absolutely nothing as you sat at the head of the table, idly stirring the porridge that was in your bowl. Your parents - along with King Taro - were busy readying the last minute preparations for your party tomorrow leaving you to a quiet breakfast -- which you were thankful for. The silence in the dining hall was a peace that you relished in. You knew that your gloomy mood would’ve been picked up on immediately had your parents been in the room with you and you were certainly not in the right state of mind to be answering any prying questions.

As you stirred the lumpy oatmeal around in your bowl, it was almost like you had slipped into a daze as you basked in the numbness you were feeling. The sadness, the anger, the hurt -- it was all gone. Your chest felt hollow, empty, almost like the shattered pieces of your heart were now gone, instead replaced by a black hole of nothingness. You had pushed out any sign of hope you had had for the Prince, a cement wall now blocking the inner memories stored in your brain in hopes that the barrier could contain the hurt and the pain you had repressed after he had left.

But it still felt like that morning.

The morning you had learned that Yuta had left with his parents had been one that was filled with endless tears; it felt like betrayal, like the Prince himself had ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it repeatedly until it stopped beating. It was filled with the pain of loss, the doubt of love, and a twinge in your chest that felt like knives plunging inside of your body. You had spent that entire morning in your room, sobbing over what could’ve been or what you could’ve possibly done wrong to make him leave without saying goodbye.

And then the numbness kicked in.

It had been a struggle the first few weeks. The heaviness that you felt weighed you down and made it almost impossible to have the strength to do anything other than to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, wishing that it would all just go away. You could remember the worry looks that had been on your mother’s face whenever she came in to check on you, the Queen more than likely knowing that something had happened between you and the Prince. She had made her best effort to cheer you up -- but as hard as you had tried to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to smile.

That had lasted a good three months; what had seemed like an endless cycle at the time slowly letting up as time moved forward and the healing process began, but it was safe to say that you hadn’t been the same after that. Before you fell in love with Yuta, you were full of positivity, often described as a bright light that would always illuminate the room you had walked into. Your dazzling smile had captivated the majority of people you came encountered with as they watched you in awe.

But that light had faded the moment the Prince had broken your heart, the jaded feelings overtaking the positive energy you had reflected out into the world. Your dazzling grin was replaced with a forced, tight-lipped smile, one that had never seemed to reach your eyes. It became a burden to you, having to converse with the different guests that had frequently visited your palace, and you found yourself completely drained by the end of the night. Having to put on the facade that you’re happy was utterly exhausting -- but there was no way out of it.

Pushing your bowl of porridge away from you, you reach for the glass of water before taking a sip, your dry throat relishing in the liquid. Just as you had set the glass back down, you hear footsteps near the dining hall, your body on high alert as your gaze snapped to look at the entrance.

“Good morning, my love.”

Numb.

You felt nothing as Yuta neared you, your lips pressed tightly together when you felt the Prince’s lips press against your forehead, your fists clenching as you watched him take a seat next to you. You stayed silent as a bowl is placed in front of him, the Prince humming in delight as he leaned forward to shove a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, his gaze fluttering over to you before he swallowed and smiled brightly.

“Did you eat?” He asked, eyes shining brightly.

“Yes.”

You watched as Yuta’s eyes flickered towards your bowl, the Prince frowning when he noticed the significant amount of food left.

“Barely,” he remarked, his gaze returning onto you as he scanned your features.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Turning away from him, you reached for your glass of water once more.

“I’m fine.”

Your voice was cold as you brought the glass to your lips, taking another swig of water before placing it back down onto the table. Tension rose between the two of you as Yuta began to pick up on your mood, the Prince giving you a weary glance as he took another spoonful of his porridge.

“Your mother told me to tell you that we are expected in the courtyard in an hour for your archery lessons. She said she wants to make sure you make the perfect shot tomorrow at your party --”

“I got it,” you cut him off sharply, pushing your chair back and standing up from the table. “I should go get ready.”

Bowing out of respect - though he didn’t deserve it - you kept your focus on the marble flooring before bidding him goodbye and walking out, the tension never leaving your body as you left Yuta sitting there, the Prince utterly confused as he watched your retreating form disappear behind the large doors.

A shrill scream echoed around the courtyard as the woman ducked the object flying towards her, her body laying flat on the ground as she looked on in terror. Your hand was placed over your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, mindlessly tossing the bow to the ground as you rushed over to help the gardener up.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, helping the woman back to get back on her feet. You heard her sigh out of relief and watched as she straightened out her clothes before she bowed.

“It’s quite alright, your highness,” she dismissed, though you knew she was still on edge.

“Here,” you reached to grab the watering can out of her hands. “Let me help you as a repayment of almost taking your head off.”

The woman couldn’t help but laugh at your statement, the gardener shaking her head as she took the can back from you and patted your head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, honey,” she smiled warmly. “It was an accident, no harm done.”

You watched as she made her way towards the entrance of the gardens and once you knew that she was okay, you walked back to your spot with your head hung low, a blush of embarrassment coating your cheeks as you reached down to grab the bow on the ground. Taking a deep breath to help collect yourself, you shut your eyes as you tried to concentrate on what your father had taught you when you were little before taking your stance. You leveled your arrow with what you thought had been the target but the moment you had let go of the bow, the arrow flew over the silver ring and right into the trunk of the tree, your shoulders dropping in defeat as you groaned.

A loud laugh came from behind you as the arrow hit the tree, your eyes narrowing into a glare as you turned around and saw Yuta standing at the steps with a shit-eating grin on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest as he walked down the stairs, his head shaking in amusement as he clicked his tongue.

“You’re not very good, Princess,” he remarked, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shut up, Yuta,” you grumbled, the Prince falling into another fit of laughter as he now stood beside you.

Disregarding him, you reached down into the bucket and grabbed another arrow before hooking it onto the bow. You took your stance once more but before you could even do anything you felt a warm hand on your waist and another on your elbow so that you wouldn’t let go of it so soon. Turning your head, you glanced at Yuta as he held your waist, his eyes locked on you as he gently turned your body sideways.

“You’re not standing correctly,” he murmured, his breath tickling your neck. You felt a rush of warmth run down your spine, your body involuntarily shivering at the sensation, but you brush it off as you stared at the Prince.

“Is there a particular way I should be standing?”

Yuta’s gaze doesn’t part from yours as he nodded, his other hand dropping from your elbow so that he can place it on the other side of your waist. Gently he shifted your body so it was angled to the right, his hand sliding down the length of your waist all-the-while never breaking eye contact from you. You can feel your breath hitch in your throat when you felt his hand trail over your thigh, your body frozen to the spot as he clutched your calf and made your feet rest shoulder-length apart. Warm heat spread throughout your body and you can only part your lips in surprise as Yuta straightened his posture, hand still on your waist, as he pressed his chest against your back. Delicate fingers trail along your arm leaving goosebumps in their wake as he positions it so that you’re standing in the correct stance.

“Bend your elbow,” he commanded softly.

You blinked as you watched his lips move, your mind still in a daze from his touch, and the Prince can only chuckle to himself before he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face. Breaking out of your faze, you fight the blush that coated your cheeks as you turned your head away from him in embarrassment, your arm raising so you can get ready to shoot.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Yuta’s hand returned to your arm before he’s grasping it gently, lowering it until it’s leveled with your face. “No wonder you’re not hitting anything -- your arm is placed wrong.”

You groaned as you lowered the bow, a pout forming on your lips as you turned to look at Yuta.

“Help me,” you whined, making the Prince laugh.

“I’m trying!” His deep chuckle sounded like music to your ears as he helped you take your stance once more.

Raising your arm, he held it at an angle before he told you to bend your elbow. Once you had done that, he’s leveling the bow with the side of your face before taking your other hand in his.

“You have to make sure the string is leveled with the corner of your eye.” His large hand felt warm over yours, his long fingers covering yours as he helped you bend the string back. “Now close one eye so you can focus on the target without anything else getting in the way. As soon as you’ve got it locked down, you can let go.”

Having Yuta pressed so close against you was a distraction in itself -- but you stood tall and followed every direction he gave you. Closing one eye, you locked your gaze on the middle of the metal ring placed in the field. Holding your breath, you clutched Yuta’s fingers as you let go of the string, the arrow flying into the air at a fast pace. You hadn’t expected the Prince’s teachings to work, you thought that you wouldn’t be successful -- but, somehow, the arrow managed to soar right through the middle of the ring and hit smack dab in the middle of the target.

Your eyes widened as you stared ahead, your lips parting in a grin, and you let out a yell of happiness as you turned to look at Yuta who was beaming with pride.

“I did it!” You cheered, making Yuta nod in acknowledgement.

“You did it, Princess!”

Your arms looped around his neck as you all but jumped on him so you could hug him tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

In the midst of your happiness, you felt yourself grasp the sides of his face before pulling him down to your lips, kissing him out of excitement. Making a surprised noise against your mouth, Yuta wrapped his arms around your waist so he could steady himself from the pull you had on him, a deep chuckle reverberating into your mouth as he kissed you back. Pulling away, you were still grinning from ear to ear as Yuta gazed down at you, his arms pulling you flush against him so he could place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I’m proud of you, my love,” he said softly, making you blush and hide your face in his chest. Chuckling at your reaction, he kissed the crown of your head before letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Alright, let's see if you can do it one more time.”

The minute you stepped outside into the boiling heat you mentally cursed your mother for making you wear the heavily armored corset for practice, beads of sweat already forming on your forehead as you walked down the steps to the courtyard. Your mother and father were sat on the sidelines, the two idly talking to King Taro who was sat beside your father. You caught sight of Yuta getting ready to shoot his arrow and nearly rolled your eyes as you watched it slip past the ring and hit the target dead on, the Prince smugly waving his bow around as he boasted to the adults.

Stepping onto the grass, you set your bag down onto the ground and made your presence known, the archery teacher standing beside you as he helped you set up your things. You paid no attention to the four sitting idly on the sidelines, your body just ready to go back inside into the cool air of the palace. Quietly thanking the instructor, you slid on the archery glove before grasping your bow and picking it up off of the ground. You hadn’t expected Yuta to still be standing there as you turned around, your body almost colliding into his, and you grumble to yourself as you step around him to be parallel with the target.

“Remember what I taught you, Princess,” he whispered to you, sending you a wink before he walked off to the side.

Your lip curled in distaste as you watched him saunter over to the tree, the Prince resting underneath the leaves in the shade as he leaned against the trunk. At that moment, the smug expression on his face had stirred something inside of you, red hot anger bubbling within the pit of your stomach, and you clenched your teeth as you stared him down. Grabbing an arrow from the bucket, you clipped it onto the string before holding your stance. You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you measured the arrow towards the ring, but little did they know you had a different target in mind. Letting a smirk grace your lips, you pulled the string back and let it go -- only you made a last minute change of target.

You watched as the arrow sunk into the bark of the tree -- right above Yuta’s head.

The Prince stood still, his eyes wide, and you feigned a look of innocence as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you called out, no remorse what-so-ever in your voice. “It slipped.”

The smirk doesn’t leave your face as you reached down to grab another arrow, a soft chuckle emitting from you as you lined yourself up with the target once more. You knew you were being vindictive, but the red hot anger grew more and more inside of you every time you glanced over at the Prince. Arrow after arrow it landed near Yuta, the Prince dodging them every time they had been directed his way, and you had to bite back a grin as you watched him duck for the ground as the metal point stabbed the part of the tree he had just occupied.

You watched the scowl on your mother’s face, your father’s lips turning into a deep frown as he walked over to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, his voice was gentle as he spoke.

“Sweetheart, maybe you should take a break…”

“I’m fine, father,” you retorted, reaching down to grab another arrow. “I want to try one more time.”

“(Y/N) --”

“Just let me try the flaming arrow once and then we’ll call it a day.”

Your father looked skeptical, his lips pursing as he thought it over before he reluctantly stepped back, letting you get back to your practice. From where you stood you could hear your mother reprimanding your father for allowing you to proceed with the flaming arrow, a muffled snort of laughter escaping you at the scene unfolding before you. Biting the inside of your cheek to stop the grin forming on your face, you dipped the steel point of the arrow into the small bowl of gasoline before letting it rest on the torch.

Once the point was ignited you clipped it onto your bow and took your stance. The anger coursed through you as you inhaled sharply through your nose, your heart yelling at you to not go through with the idea your brain had come up with, your brain - on the other hand - was plagued by the anger as your mind egged you on to continue. As your gaze shifted over towards the Prince, you stared at him as every single thing he done to hurt you flashed through your mind, the sting of hurt coming to the surface as you bit back the oncoming tears that were beginning to pool behind your eyes.

Clenching the string of the bow tightly, you aimed it towards the target before letting it go. You could feel the tension of those around you as the flaming arrow soared through the air, your gaze locked on Yuta as he winced, afraid that it was going to come at him once more -- only it didn’t. The arrow soared through the center of the metal ring, which was now caught on fire, before it was securely sunken into the paper of the target.

At that moment, four collective sighs of relief echoed around the courtyard and you watched as your father stood to applaud your victory -- but you didn’t feel victorious. The pain in your chest had returned with a vengeance and it took all of what you had inside of you not to break down right then and there. Instead you set your bow down on the ground so you could start packing your things up, silently hoping that you would be left alone.

“I think that’s enough for the day,” your father called out. “Good job, you two. The ceremony tomorrow should undoubtedly be a success.”

The three adults began to head inside after your father’s speech, leaving you to collect your things by yourself. You were shoving your bow into your bag just as a shadow had cast over you, your gaze lifting to meet the angry one of Yuta’s as he glowered down at you.

“What the hell was that?” He seethed, making you feign a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

Yuta’s lips curled into a snarl as he took a step towards you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he spat. “I had just been telling your father that I taught you everything you know about archery, that you never miss a shot because of me --”

“Oh, honey,” you smirked, straightening up as you pulled your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“You made me look bad, (Y/N)!” He yelled in exasperation. “How could you have missed the damn target?!”

The smirk on your face grew as you bravely took a step towards him, your eyes flickering to his as you stared him down.

“I didn’t miss,” you retorted, giving him a once over before tightening your grip on your bag. “You were my target.”

You held your head high as you blew him a kiss goodbye before turning on your heels and walking back towards the palace, the conversation dropping immediately.

But not before you had watched his eyes flash dangerously, hinting at the realization of what your words meant.

Now, you felt victorious.

The next morning was filled with never-ending chaos.

The day of your party meant that everyone around you were running in circles trying to get everything in tip top shape before the guests arrived. The servants and butlers ran around the dining hall and ballroom areas counting each and every chair and table so that they had enough for all of the guests that were going to be arriving in only a few hours. Your mother and father had their separate fittings for their outfits for the night, leaving you to spend the majority of the day locked in your room as your helpers got you ready for the night’s festivities.

Considering that it was your twenty-first birthday party, you should’ve been more upbeat about the whole ordeal. It was a big celebration, one that brought all types of nobilities from across the world, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel even an ounce of happiness. The whole thing felt like a burden to you, one that weighed you down and made you sluggishly move from station to station as others helped you get ready, and you were already over it.

After the archery fiasco had happened, you found yourself being tortured by the simple presence of the Prince that you were dealt to marry. When you had gotten changed out of the sweaty corset your mother had made you wear, you were forced to join them for dinner -- where you, once again, had to sit next to Yuta. To say that it had been awkward would’ve been the understatement of the century.

The tension between yourself and Yuta had escalated to an all time high, the whole dinner had been spent with the two of you giving each other noticeable glares out of the corners of your eyes as you ate in silence. Your parents had been completely oblivious to the whole thing, the three gushing over how excited they were over the fact that the announcement of your engagement will be finally become public. You had a hard time trying to stomach the idea, the anger and resentment inside of you still brewing harshly in your stomach.

And when the dinner had ended, your mother had the brilliant idea of the five of you checking out the set up for the celebration, leading you to finding out that Yuta was supposed to be the one escorting you inside. Luckily, you had managed to derail that idea --

“Honey, he’s your betrothed --”

“Wouldn’t you rather make it more special? Why not just announce it after I’ve made my rounds of greeting the guests? If you do it too early it’s going to take away from the celebration.”

“She has a point…”

As the hours passed, the announcement that the first slew of guests had arrived making everyone around you panic considering that you still hadn’t gotten your dress on yet. You were still in the process of getting your makeup finished when your mother had stormed in stating that you had only a few moments left before you were meant to be in the foyer. Rolling your eyes at her, you leaned over to the woman doing your makeup before whispering softly.

“It’s alright, don’t rush. She’s always over dramatic and stressed when it comes to things like this.”

Offering the woman a small smile, you watched as she sighed with relief before nodding her head and continuing to line your eyes lightly with the pencil. As she finished up your makeup, you felt the weight on your shoulders as you stood up to go fit into your dress. Nerves bubbled in the pit of your stomach and you almost felt like you were going to be sick as the red material was placed on your bed. The bodice of your corset felt suffocating as they tied it tightly, securing your body in its confinements, and you slowly exhaled once they had finished. Your head felt light and you were afraid that you were going to pass out as you stepped into the dress, Miyoung - who had been silently watching the whole time - zipped you up until you were all set to go.

You watched as the helpers bustled around the room to grab your shoes until you felt a hand on your arm, your gaze landing on Miyoung as she looked at you with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Her eyes swept over your face as they scanned your appearance and you wondered if she could tell how clammy you were.

“Just a bit nervous,” you admitted, making her reach out and bring you into a hug.

“I understand,” she said softly, rubbing your back. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you’re already ten times better than I was.”

You had to laugh at that, nodding in agreement.

When Miyoung had her celebration, the poor girl had been stuck in the bathroom for the first fifteen minutes after she had been introduced. Her nerves had gotten the best of her and she ended up head first in the toilet while you had held her hair back for her, muttering that everything was okay -- and you knew that if that happened to you tonight, she would do the same exact thing for you.

All of the ladies had taken a step back from you once you had everything on, a collective gasp echoing throughout your room, and you watched as some of them covered their mouths, eyes watery as they stared at you. Turning to look in the mirror, your own eyes widened in shock at your appearance.

The red strapless dress clung to your body in a way where everything had been accentuated, showing off your shape magnificently. The silver detailing on the bodice of the dress matched the silver, diamond encrusted crown that rested on your head. Your hair had been pulled up into an elegant bun, leaving room so that your diamond studs could be seen in your ears. You wore red gloves that reached up to your elbow, a silver bracelet placed delicately on your wrist to compliment the other jewelry, and your feet were clad in red satin pumps. Your makeup was subtle but still had variants that popped; the smokey black liner, the mascara coated lashes, and a nude lipstick.

“You look beautiful.”

Miyoung’s words broke your concentration from the mirror, a small smile gracing your lips as you took one last look before looping arms with her and heading out the door.

The walk from your room to the entrance of the ballroom wasn’t exactly ideal when it came to wearing pumps, the uncomfortable shoes pinching your feet with every step, and you almost groan in pain as you walk up the stairs to reach the French doors leading to the upper balcony of the ballroom. Your mother and father were already inside, their introductions having happened an hour before yours, and you feel the nerves grow twice in size as you stared at the elegantly carved doors, your gloved fingers playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist as you waited for your introduction.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy as you watched the guards begin to approach the door, their bodies bowing in respect before they gripped the door handles. You felt your heart begin to hammer quickly in your chest, your stomach bubbling nervously, and your mouth went dry as the nerves got the best of you. Inhaling sharply through your nose, you close your eyes as you stay still for a moment. Your mind floated to your happy place as you tried to calm yourself down, still not exhaling. Your head grew light but you didn’t care, the only that mattered was the image of an open field as you ran through it freely, a bright smile on your face. It was liberating to be able to run without a care in the world, and you had wished now more than ever that you could be there instead of attending the celebration.

The image shifted then.

As you ran, you felt arms wrap around your waist before hoisting you up in the air, a shriek of delight escaping you as you’re pulled into a muscular chest. Whipping your head around, you caught sight of familiar warm brown hues and a dazzling bright smile, plump lips edging towards you before they’re pressing against yours. The grip around your waist tightened as he kissed you and you hummed against his mouth, the two of you falling into the field as your limbs stayed attached to one another’s.

Your eyes shot open at that, your lips parting as you exhaled loudly, and you felt your mind go foggy as you looked around, expecting to see the Prince -- but he wasn’t there. Grumbling to yourself for believing that the image had been real, you turned back towards the doors just as they had opened, your hands placed obediently by your side before walking in.

“May I present to you, her royal highness, Princess (Y/N).”

The applause was deafening as you stood at the top of the stairs, your gaze looming over the hundreds of guests that were packed in the ballroom. The only familiar faces you were able to pick out were your parents who stood off to the right with King Taro, Miyoung who was in the center, and you felt your breath hitch as you caught sight of Yuta standing at the foot of the grand staircase. He was dressed in all black save for the metallic silver lining on his dress robes, his hair parted off to the side, revealing his forehead. He had a wide-eyed expression as he looked up at you, lips parting in surprise as you stared back at him.

Carefully you began to descend the stairs, your eyes locked on the Prince the entire way down, and you felt your heart slamming against your ribcage as he offered his arm out to you which you graciously took. You felt the ease wash over you as Yuta pulled you close to him, his eyes never leaving you as you finally made it to the floor. All eyes were on you but you only saw Yuta, your hand clutching his arm as he swept you along the floor to bring you over to guests so you could start making your rounds of welcoming them.

Despite the anger you had held towards the Prince, when it came to stressful moments like this… He was your rock. The familiarity of him set you at ease and you instantly felt the nerves lift as he stood by your side. The warmth that radiated off of him gave you a sense of comfort as you bowed towards the nobles who had approached you, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you greeted them politely. Yuta stood silently by your side as you conversed with them, answering any questions or comments that they had for you before moving on to the next pair.

Somewhere in the middle of making your rounds, Yuta had excused himself as he had been summoned by his father, the Prince giving you one last look to make sure that you were alright before he obediently stood next to the King. As you made your way around the ballroom, you could already feel the fatigue that hit your body as you bowed in front of another guest. Your mind was in overdrive, ready to shut down from having to do the same thing over and over again. The tight-lipped smile never faltered as you bid adieu to another guest, thanking them for coming to the celebration. Turning around, you had began to make a bee-line towards the doors of the ballroom to go get some quick air before you had bumped into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry --”

“Pardon me, it was my fault!”

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head as they landed on the person you had bumped into, your heart beginning to speed up as your gaze settled on the face of the handsome man in front of you. Immediately he bowed, an apologetic look on his face as he looked towards the ground.

“I’m so sorry, your highness, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

His voice was soft, almost like the sound of chimes singing through the wind, only the tone was lower. He rested one knee on the marbled floor before gently grabbing your hand, his pillow soft lips pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he sheepishly looked up at you. You, on the other hand, were as flushed as a tomato, the heat on your cheeks making you want to hide your face as you looked down at the man.

“It -- it’s quite alright, um --”

“Oh!” Standing up from the ground, he still hadn’t dropped your hand as he showed you a beamingly bright smile that struck your heart in all of the best ways. “My name is Taeyong, your highness. Well -- Prince Taeyong, actually. But my title is only used for formalities and --”

Your giggle cut him off, your hand covering your mouth as you grinned at the Prince stumbling over his words. A sheepish grin danced across his lips and he ran his free hand through his hair, thoroughly embarrassed at his rambling.

“Well, Taeyong,” you began, grinning at him. “I believe you owe me something for bumping into me. Perhaps, a dance?”

You watched as his expression brightened at your words, the grip on your hand tightening as he nodded enthusiastically.

“It would be an honor, your highness.”

You couldn’t stop the fluttering in your stomach as he brought you to the middle of the dance floor, his warm hand resting on the curve of your hip while his other laced with yours. He pulled you in close before the two of you began to waltz to the music the orchestra was playing, your eyes locked on his as he smiled brightly at you. It was almost like the two of you were gliding effortlessly along the floor, Taeyong leading you in a flawless dance, and you had to stop yourself from swooning as he spun you around before pulling your body back towards his. His movements were fluid, every step sharp and defined, and you felt yourself getting lost in the soft gaze of his eyes.

It was almost like you had been put under a spell, completely entranced by the man you were dancing with, and it wasn’t until the sound of a throat clearing from behind you interrupted the dance before you snapped out of the daze. Turning your head, you saw Yuta, the Prince glaring angrily at the man you were dancing with before he took a step closer towards you.

“Pardon the interruption,” his voice held an edge to it and you had to bite back a laugh as he stared down Taeyong. “But the King and Queen requested her presence.”

Stepping back from you, Taeyong sent you a warm smile and lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it softly before bowing in respect.

“It was an honor dancing with you, your highness,” his velvety voice made your heart sing and you couldn’t help but send him a smile back. “Hopefully we can have one more before the night ends.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Yuta’s mumble doesn’t go unnoticed and you have no time to reply to Taeyong before the Prince grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the other end of the ballroom. You can feel the anger radiating off of him as his tight grip clutched your hand, his lips pulled into a sneer, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior before ripping your hand out of his.

“Simmer down, boy,” you chided, making Yuta’s head snap to look over at you. “It was just a dance.”

“It wasn’t just a dance, (Y/N),” he snapped. “It was more than that and you know it.”

You had to laugh at that, your head shaking in amusement, crossing your arms over your chest before quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh really?” You asked, clearly amused. “How so?”

For a moment you saw a flash of hurt cross his features, the Prince staring you down as he moved closer to you.

“You were looking at him like --” he paused, and you watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. “Nevermind.”

He had made a move to turn away from you but instead you reached up to gently grab his face, making him look back at you with a sad gaze.

“I was looking at him like what?” You asked softly, your gaze sweeping over his face as you tried to figure out what he was thinking. “Tell me, Yuta.”

Yuta stayed silent as his eyes softened, the palm of his hand reaching up to gently caress your face. Leaning into his touch you felt a sense of longing run through you, the gesture making your mind fill with the endless touches of love he used to give you. You felt your heart soar as the pad of his thumb gently stroked the edge of your jaw -- and in a flash, it was gone.

“Come on,” he said, dropping his hand from your face. “We have to get ready for the announcement.”

You stood beside your mother and father at the top of the balcony, overlooking the crowd of guests as the room grew silent. Your fingers were twisted together in a sense of nervousness as the hundred pairs of eyes stared back at you in question, your lips pressed together in a tight line as your father stepped forward. Immediately the crowd bowed, honoring the King, and you watched as your father bit back a fit of laughter as he looked on at them.

“Firstly, I would like to thank you all for coming here tonight to help us celebrate my daughter’s birthday,” he began, gesturing towards you. “As you all know, the Princess’s twenty-first birthday is a big deal. It’s almost like the coming-out party to help introduce her to possible suitors who are worthy enough to stand by her side and help rule the country.”

You straightened your posture as your mother stepped aside, allowing you to stand by your father as he began speaking again.

“Fortunately, however, she has found him already.”

This time it was your father who had stepped aside, the King gesturing for Yuta to take his place beside you before the two of you walked to the edge of the balcony. Looping your arm through his, you couldn’t help but look up at the man as he peered down at you. There was a sense of longing in his eyes, the warm brown hues focusing on you and you only, and you watched as his plump lips turned upwards into a gentle smile. Clutching onto him you all but buried yourself into his side as you tried to conceal yourself from the crowd’s view, Yuta chuckling softly when he noticed your actions.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Your father’s speech became static noise as you looked up at Yuta, the Prince never once breaking eye contact with you, and you let your mind wander as your gaze swept over his features. The sharp line of his jaw, the high-pointed nose, the plump lips… Had he always been this handsome? Over the course of the week had you been that blind with rage and hurt that you never got to relish in the gentle glint in his eyes, the soft brush of his hands on you, or even notice the emotion he had hidden behind the cold exterior. The realization hit you full force as the crowd began to cheer and clap as the announcement was made -- but you didn’t care.

All that mattered was the man standing beside you.

But soon you were ripped away from your husband-to-be as your friends pulled you towards them, words of excitement for your engagement falling from their lips as they hugged you out of happiness. Reluctantly pulling your gaze away from Yuta, you looked over at Miyoung who stood there with a knowing grin on her face, the blonde wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she hugged you.

“I told you so,” she said in a sing-song voice making you roll your eyes at her.

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” you frowned. “For all I know, he could be faking it.”

Miyoung scoffed, pushing you playfully.

“Oh, honey,” she laughed, shaking her head. “There’s no way anyone can fake a look like that.”

With that, she sent you a wink before catching sight of Prince Jaehyun crossing the floor. You watched as her eyes narrowed into a glare, pink lips parting, before she called out to him from across the room.

“Jung Jaehyun you still owe me a rematch!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend’s antics as you watched her storm out of the ballroom, the Prince hot on her heels before they made their way outside to the archery station. Rubbing your gloved hands together you looked around the room at the guests; some were waltzing on the dance floor, others conversing off to the side. The soft music of the orchestra playing as drowned out by conversations and you suddenly felt the dryness of your lips. Picking up the skirt of your dress you headed over to the head table before grabbing your glass, lifting it to your lips and taking a sip.

“I suppose a ‘congratulations’ is in order, your highness?”

You almost spat your water out in surprise as the voice came from behind you, your eyes widening as they landed on a smirking Taeyong’s face. Picking up a napkin you hastily dabbed at your mouth before turning towards him with a shrug of your shoulders, a sheepish expression on your face.

“I suppose so,” you affirmed, making Taeyong laugh.

“He’s a lucky man,” he said, taking a step closer towards you. “Just promise me one thing, your highness.”

You felt your breath hitch as the back of Taeyong’s hand ran along your jaw, the soft touch of his fingertips barely grazing your skin as his smirk widened.

“If you ever find yourself unsatisfied by the man you marry, do not hesitate to come and find me.”

Your eyes widened at the blatant sensual undertone of his words, your cheeks growing hot underneath the touch and gaze of the Prince as a flash of hunger showed in his eyes.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, your highness.”

Yuta’s sharp tone made you flinch and you found yourself backing away from Taeyong as the two Princes looked at one another; one out of anger the other out of smugness. Wrapping a protective arm around your waist, Yuta pulled you behind him as he stepped in front of you, eyes staring dangerously down at Taeyong.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he gritted out. “We will be leaving now.”

The harsh grip on your hand has you crying out softly as you feel yourself begin to be pulled away from Taeyong and through the crowd, your eyes narrowing into a glare as you stared at the back of Yuta’s head whilst he dragged you out of the ballroom. Trying to rip your hand from his grasp, you pushed on his arm as he pulled you up the stairs before he finally let go the moment the two of you were alone in an empty corridor. Your eyes flashed angrily as you stepped back from him, the Prince mirroring your expression as the two of you glared at one another.

“How dare you pull me away like that!” You yelled, making Yuta roll his eyes. “I’m not some doll that you could just tug and pull!”

“I’m sorry for being too rough,” his voice sounded the exact opposite of his words, the tone harsh and cold. “But you need to be more careful around people like that!”

“People like what? Like Taeyong --”

“Don’t say his name,” he seethed, glaring daggers towards the ballroom. “You need to stop being so trusting with other people --”

“You act like that’s a bad thing!”

“It is!” His voice raised and you fought back a flinch as it echoed in the empty corridor. “People like that will take advantage of you --”

“Wow, that sounds familiar,” you bit back, making Yuta’s face contort with confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have been so trusting with you, either,” you spat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know, Yuta, you tell me,” your voice was harsh as you took a step closer to him. “I let my guard down for you, I let you show me things I’d never seen before, I fell in love with you! And what did you do? You left me here to rot!”

Your voice wavered as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, all of the pent up feelings and emotions that you had been holding back now coming to light as you glared menacingly at the Prince.

“You made love to me and then you left me,” your lip quivered as a tear rolled down your cheek, Yuta’s face softening at the sight. “Do you know how that made me feel? Do you know what it felt like when I woke up the next morning expecting you to be there only to find out that you had left --”

“My mother was sick!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to just leave without saying anything!” You yelled, the tears now freely flowing. “All of the promises you made that night, all of the words you said to me… They meant nothing to you, did they? When you asked me to meet you at midnight and you never showed up --”

“Wait --”

“I waited for you!” you cried, furiously wiping your tears. “I waited and waited but you never showed up!”

“I told one of the maids to tell you that I wasn’t going to be able to make it!” His claimed, exasperatedly. “She said she was going to tell you --”

“Well she didn’t,” you snapped.

The tears felt hot on your face as you let out a choked sob, your heart hammering against your chest. 

“Did you even love me at all, Yuta? Everything you had told me; all of the feelings, the secrets -- were they just a ploy to get me to fall for you just so you could break my heart?”

Yuta’s face fell at your words, a deep frown on his lips.

“You -- you think I didn’t love you?” The crack in his voice doesn’t waver your anger, your lips pressed together in a tight line as you stayed silent. “You really think that I was faking all of that?”

“What else am I supposed to think?!” You cried out, furiously wiping at your tears. “You left me, Yuta! That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I love you’ now, does it?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” His voice raised once more, the crack even more evident now, and you laughed humorlessly as you shook your head.

“You did have a choice!” You retorted. “You chose not to tell me. You chose to leave without saying goodbye. You chose to lead me on --”

“I never led you on!” You could tell that Yuta was reaching his breaking point, the Prince’s body shuddering each time he yelled. “God, I would never do that --”

“You never answered my question, either,” your voice was cold as you spoke, vision blurry from the tears. “You never loved me did you?”

Yuta’s breathing was labored as you cut him off, his face unreadable, and he watched as you took another step towards him.

“Admit it, Yuta,” you taunted. “Just tell me that I’m right and I’ll --”

Your words were swallowed by Yuta as the Prince grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up to him, his lips crashing harshly onto yours. Your shriek was muffled as he kissed you roughly, teeth clamping down onto your bottom lip as your head finally wrapped around the fact that he was kissing you -- Yuta was kissing you.

A muffled moan escaped your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, bringing him further down towards you as you began to kiss him back. Opening your mouth, you let your tongue glide against his, mewling at the contact as your fingers pulled harshly at his dark locks. Yuta growled against your lips, his hand dropping from the back of your neck before landing on your waist as he pushed you back. Feeling your back hit the wall roughly, you dug your nails into his scalp in retaliation, teeth clamping down onto his bottom lip before you’re pulling back breathlessly.

Yuta doesn’t there, though. Instead he’s kissing down your jaw, nibbling the flesh every now and again, before he’s making his way down the length of your neck. His warm tongue runs along the expanse of your neck as you tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Don’t you dare think --” he paused, his hot breath fanning against your skin before he lifted his head from your neck so he could look you dead in the eye. “That I never loved you. I loved you more than I could ever put into words, (Y/N). Hell, I still love you.”

You could feel your heart begin to pound rapidly against your ribcage as he spoke, your eyes widening as you looked up at him in surprise.

“You -- what?”

Yuta’s gaze grew soft, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he look at you in earnest.

“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours with every word. “I never stopped loving you -- mmf!”

His words had ignited a fire within your body.

Your lips were ruthless against his, kissing him in what would could be classified as desperation mixed with longing as you tangled your fingers in his hair. Wrapping one leg around his waist, you pulled his body closer to you until his lower half was flush against yours, your hips rolling to gain any kind of friction you could. His plump lips are soft against yours, a groan emitting from his chest as his hand slid underneath your dress to rest on your bare thigh, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him. His hips pinned yours against the wall as his tongue swirled around yours, your name falling from his lips in a breathless moan as you circled your hips against him. You can feel the heat pool between your thighs as his fingers danced along your skin, the need for him becoming more and more apparent.

You could faintly hear the music playing from the ballroom, the chatter of the guests bringing you out of your daze as you drew back from Yuta’s lips- only to have him chase right after yours. You moaned lowly as he licked inside of your mouth, his kisses becoming addictive. The noise from the ballroom faded into silence as you, once again, lost yourself in Yuta’s lips, the plush flesh feeling what you would expect heaven to seem like. You felt the air in your lungs begin to grow tight as you became light-headed, drawing back from the kiss for the second time.

“We can’t stay here,” you breathed out, making Yuta hum against your jaw, the Prince lazily drumming his fingers on the flesh of your thigh.

“Why not?” He asked, amusement in his voice. “Don’t want the others to know that their good little Princess is capable of doing such naughty things?”

His nose grazed against your neck, a smirk forming on his lips as he felt you arch into him, your body on high alert as he moved his fingers up your thigh.

“Do you not want them to see their little Princess getting fucked against the wall by the man who loves her?” You couldn’t control the moan that escaped as he bit down on your neck, a lewd suck emitting from his mouth as he enclosed his lips around your skin.

You felt his fingers prod against the hem of your panties, your lips parting as his name fell with a breathy whimper, the Prince smirking against your flesh as he ran his tongue over the newly formed bruised on your neck. Your fingers are tangled in his hair as he pushed past the confinements of your panties, his fingers gliding over your slicked core. Tightening your thigh around his waist, you push into his touch, wanting - needing - more of him.

“Yuta,” you whimpered, making the Prince raise his head from your neck and give you a look, eyebrow raised in question. “P- please.”

“Please what, Princess?” He teasingly asked, making you groan.

Reaching down you grabbed his wrist before pushing more of his hand into your panties, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rolled your hips into his touch.

“Touch me.”

A low growl emitted from his chest as he surged forward, lips crashing onto yours as his fingers ran along your folds, coating the digits in your arousal before he’s pushing one inside of you. You’re mewling at the contact, your hips rolling as you craved more friction from him. Your tongue swirled around his as he curled the digit against your tight walls, a breathless moan escaping you as you rode the rhythm of his hand.

He’s slipping a second finger inside of you, the Prince lazily licking into your mouth as he pumped the digits, the tip of his middle finger brushing against a spot that has you jerking into his hand, a loud moan reverberating into his mouth as he curled them. Your hips have a mind of their own, rolling shamelessly into the rhythm, riding the digits without a care in the world. You’re breaking away from his mouth and tilting your head back, moaning into the air as he nibbled on the skin of your neck.

“Yuta,” you moaned, breathless. “Please -- please take me to my room.”

“Why?” He asked, panting against your neck. “Tell me why and we’ll go.”

Shakily you rested your hands on the sides of his face before bringing him up to look at you, your eyes wide and pleading as you fight the pleasure that his fingers are giving you.

“I want you to make love to me.”

The words were soft, almost inaudible, but by the sound of Yuta growling and ripping his fingers from you, you knew he had heard it.

The door of your room is slammed shut the moment the two of you are secured inside, desperate touches igniting your body on fire as he pressed you up against the door. Impatient fingers are sliding over the zipper of your dress before pulling it down, the Prince groaning against your neck when he caught sight of the corset underneath.

“I hate these things,” he whined breathlessly, making you giggle.

“You had a hard time undoing it last time…”

Yuta’s eyes flashed dangerously at your words, the Prince taking them as a challenge before a smirk danced across his lips.

“I’m different now, my love,” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine as his fingers rested on the front of the corset. “Would I have been able to do this last time?”

The sound of fabric ripping echoed around the room, your eyes widening as you watched the now ripped corset being tossed to the ground. Desire pooled in your lower body at the sight, your bottom lip being sucked into your mouth as your gaze settled back on the Prince in front of you. He’s smirking cockily, the tips of his fingers brushing against your now bare chest, and you can’t help but to whimper, your fingers sliding under his dress robes before you’re sliding them off of his body.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of, sweetheart,” he murmured, making you smirk.

“I should be the one saying that.”

Your lips reattached to his as you pull at his vest, your tongue sliding against his as his fingers tweaked at your nipples, the pleasure striking a shiver down your spine as you tossed the material to the floor. Desperation and want is coursing through your veins as you break away from his mouth to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes widening when you catch sight of the defined muscle that had been hidden beneath the fabric. Your pupils were blown with lust as your eyes raked over his body, your tongue sweeping over your lips as Yuta let out a soft chuckle.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

His lips were pressed to your ear, teeth nibbling on the lobe, and you moaned in response, your fingers greedily running over the curves of his abdomen, relishing in the feel of the defined muscles. Feeling his hands grip your thighs, you let out a surprised squeak as you feel yourself being lifted up and spun over towards the bed, Yuta’s lips attaching to your chest as he pressed you into the soft mattress. His tongue glided over your pert nipples, taking one of the buds into his mouth before softly biting down.

Pleasure ran through you and you couldn’t help but arch into him as his tongue swept around the sensitive bud. Your nails raked down his back before settling between his shoulder blades and digging in, marking his back with scratches as you lifted your hips to roll into his. Yuta moaned against your chest, one hand sliding into your panties as he resumed what he had been doing before the two of you had gotten to your bedroom.

His fingers mercilessly curled against your tight walls, the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit making your voice grow in volume, the Prince’s name falling from your lips as your nails raked against his skin. With his free hand he tugged the material of your panties down your legs and broke away from your breasts, Yuta sliding down your body until he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and leaning in towards your core.

Feeling the tip of his tongue pressing against your clit has you reeling against him, your hips bucking up into his face as you fight to put more pressure on the sensitive bud. Chuckling softly against you, he obeyed your silent wishes and lifted his head until he had flattened the wet muscle against the bud, sucking harshly at it until he had you writhing beneath him. He’s humming softly against your core, the sound reverberating against your body and effectively making you shudder against him as the speed of his tongue increased.

He’s sliding a third digit inside of you, your walls easily stretching for him, and he can’t help but smirk against your clit as he peered up at you through a hooded gaze.

“You taste so good, Princess.”

His breath fanned against your core as he looked up at you flirtatiously, the cheeky smile making you groan with impatience, and you’re fisting your hands in his hair before pulling him back towards your core. Chuckling softly, he gets the message and continues what he was doing before; teasing kitten licks and soft suckles against your clit have you rolling your hips into his mouth, his unoccupied hand reaching out to pin them against the bed. The three digits inside of you curl and press against your inner walls, the stretch along with the pleasure of his mouth making you see stars, and you can feel your lower half begin to tighten, an overwhelming pleasure wracking your body before your hips try to fight the pressure.

Your release hits you like waves crashing onto shore, a cry of Yuta’s name coming from your mouth as the Prince brought you to your high. His tongue still prodded against the now oversensitized bud, fingers milking your release. Your eyes are squeezed shut, nails digging into his scalp, and you’re whimpering softly when you felt him slide his fingers from you, the emptiness making you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of creating some sort of friction between them.

Yuta had other plans, however.

Prying your legs apart, he’s leaning down to press soft kisses up your body, tongue sweeping past his lips every now and again as he kissed a trail up your chest and neck before reaching your lips. You can still taste yourself on his tongue as it brushed past the seam of your lips, the lustful aura diminishing into something much more intimate as he blindly untied his pants. Reaching down to help him, you’re pushing the soft material down his legs, his briefs following in suit, and you felt your breath hitch as the tip of his length prodded against your core.

A sudden strike of fear rushed through you then, your mouth breaking apart from his, and you can feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, the Prince’s face contorting into one of concern as he reached up to cup yours.

“What’s the matter,” he murmured, warm brown hues scanning your body in case he had hurt you.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

The words escaped you before you could stop them, the sadness in your tone making a look of hurt flash across Yuta’s features and he’s shaking his head before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

While the other kisses had been heated and lustful, this one was languid and deep. You felt your heart soar as the passionate kiss deepened, Yuta’s hand traveling from your face to grab your own hand, fingers interlacing with yours as he steadied himself against you.

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered against your lips, eyes boring into yours. “Not again. Not ever.”

With one hand still laced with yours, his other lined his length up with your core, pumping it a few times before he sheathed himself inside of you.

A sigh of relief escaped both yours and Yuta’s lips as your walls convulsed around him, your tight heat stretching to accommodate the size of his thick cock. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you lift yourself up off the bed to allow him to rest deeper inside of you, a moan of delight escaping the Prince as he now held both of your hands, pinning them above your head as his mouth continuously pressed to yours.

The rhythm started slow, thrusts shallow as he waited for you to get used to him. His lips move slowly against yours, hands tightening their hold on yours, and you can’t help but let out a soft gasp when you felt his hips push deeper.

“Yuta --”

His name comes out in a choked moan, the Prince playfully nibbling on your bottom lip as he rolled his hips into yours.

“My Princess,” he breathed out, making your body fill with heat, a whimper escaping you as he took your bottom lip between his teeth. “My beautiful Princess.”

The slow rhythm began to pick up when he felt your walls stretch further, his cock drawing out of you before quickly sliding back in. The pick up in speed has you mewling against his lips, your fingers squeezing his as your ankles locked behind his back. The soft sound of skin meeting skin echoed around the room and you had to draw back from his lips as you arched into him, your lips parting in pleasure as his hips rocked roughly into yours.

Yuta suckled bruises into the skin on your chest as his thrusts sped up, the sound of his hips slapping against yours becoming louder and louder with each movement and you’re arching into the feel of him as your nails began to rake down his back. Moan after moan falls from your lips and you almost whimper in protest as one of his hands left yours, your mouth opening to whine before a moan concealed it, Yuta’s thumb pressing against your sensitive bud before he’s rubbing it roughly.

His lips dotted kisses along the expanse of your neck, his breathing ragged as his thrusts began to grow sloppily in rhythm, his teeth sinking into your flesh as his cock brushed against the same spot his fingers had, your hips jerking against the friction as you wailed with pleasure. The tightening in your core signalled that you were close, the brink of your release building rapidly as Yuta let out a choked moan against your flesh. Your nails scraped along his back, the markings making the Prince retaliate by digging his own into your wrist, the pain mixing with the pleasure as you clenched around his cock.

Your release washed over you in a pleasureable wave, Yuta’s name falling from your lips with a soft cry, your hips rolling to meet his as you rode out your high. Your core is sensitive as Yuta’s thrusted deeply, the Prince’s voice catching in his throat as he slid out of you and pumped his length. Your eyes were hooded as fatigue took over your body, the sight of Yuta’s release spurting over your abdomen as he came with a grunt, his head thrown back as his lips parted in pleasure.

Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace as you fought to catch your breath, your vision blurred from the intense pleasure you had just experienced, and you can barely make out the silhouette of Yuta as he reached down to grab his shirt. The soft fabric of the shirt runs along the length of your abdomen, Yuta placing soft kisses along your hips as he cleaned you up. You could still feel your core trembling as he gently lifted you up to pull the covers back, Yuta letting you rest against the mattress before climbing next to you.

Warm, muscular arms wrapped around your form as the blankets laid over top of you, his face nestling in the crook of your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your flesh.

“I love you,” he murmured, and you turned your head to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

The warmth of the sun illuminated your skin as morning came, the birds chirping happily outside of your window as you groaned, burying your face from the bright rays. Your body was hot from the heat of the morning sun, the comforter of your bed becoming too much for you as you shoved the cloth to the floor. Now you’re completely uncovered, your skin relishing in the exposure after being smothered by hot blankets all night. A dull ache in your lower body made another groan escape from you and you’re rolling over to the other side of the bed before burying your head into the pillow.

And then you realize something…

Lifting your head, your mind wraps around the fact that you’re alone. Your heart dropped as memories of the night before replayed over in your mind, deja vu hitting you like a freight train, and you can already feel the tears prick the corners of your eyes as you sit up in bed. Your heart ached painfully as you’re slowly reaching for your dressing gown, the silk material clinging to your skin, and you had just managed to button it up before your door opened.

“Good morning, my love.”

Relief. Happiness. Love.

The tears streamed down your face as you jumped onto the Prince, a cry of relief escaping you as your hands banged against his chest, your face burying in the crook of his neck before you gave up on hitting him and looped your arms around his neck. Yuta stumbled a bit from the impact before carefully placing the tray onto the bed.

“Don’t do that to me!” You yelled, making the Prince stare down at your tearful state.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I thought you had left me again,” you cried, making Yuta frown.

Gently taking you in his arms, he let you curl up on his lap as he rocked you back and forth, his lips pressing to your forehead as he whispered sweet nothings, waiting for you to calm down before he lifted your face so he could look down at you.

“Hey,” he called softly, your tearful gaze making him frown as he caressed the sides of your face. “I’m not going to leave you, Princess.”

Your lip trembled as the tears began to slow, your head nodding in acknowledgement.

“I just went to go get us some breakfast.”

Your gaze fell on the silver tray he had been carrying in and, as if on cue, you heard your stomach grumble, the noise making Yuta chuckle as he gently set you on the mattress. Lifting the cover off of the tray, he beamed when he revealed the golden pancakes, scrambled eggs, and cup of orange juice. You felt your heart soar as you looked up at him, a small laugh escaping you as you wiped the remaining tears off of your face.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, watching as Yuta moved to sit beside you on the bed. “I guess I just -- assumed that it happened again.”

Leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead, Yuta let his lips linger for a moment before turning towards the tray and stabbing a forkful of pancake. Lifting it to your lips he gestured for you to open your mouth before feeding you, a soft hum escaping him as he happily watched you eat.

“I suppose that’s my fault, too,” he remarked, a sheepish smile on his face. “Perhaps I should’ve waited until you were awake to go get you something to eat, given our -- my -- history.”

A frown formed on your lips as you looked up at him, your fingers idly playing with the strands of his hair as you leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Can I ask --” you paused, swallowing the pancake before resuming. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuta let out a deep sigh, remorse clouding his features, and he fed you another piece of the pancake before speaking.

“I couldn’t do it,” he admitted, guiltily looking away. “I avoided it until it was too late. My mother had just been diagnosed with the sickness and we were set to go the week after that…”

Yuta stopped talking, his eyes dropping to look at the ground as he frowned.

“I loved you so much that it hurt -- it hurt that I had to say goodbye to you. I thought that -- that maybe if I said nothing at all it would hurt less, that not seeing you the day we set off to go back home would be easier than a tearful goodbye… But it wasn’t.”

Pushing the tray away, he grasped your face gently before pulling you towards him.

“I thought about you every day I was gone, Princess. Everywhere I turned, you were there. The simple thought of you got me through everything; it got me through watching my mother succumb to her sickness, it got me through the sadness of her funeral. You have been my rock since day one -- and I’m sorry that I was not able to be the same for you.”

You shook your head, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had collected at the corners of his eyes.

“I forgive you,” you murmured.

You watched as Yuta’s shoulders shook as he cried, his grip on you tightening as you kissed his head, your lips forming into a pout as you rested your cheek against his.

“I’m sorry I shot all of those arrows at you.”

A choked back laugh escaped the Prince at that, his teary gaze filling with joy as he lifted his head to look at you, a grin playing on your lips as you giggled.

“I forgive you,” he said, repeating your words. “Besides -- you can’t get rid of me that easily, my love.”

A shriek escaped you as you felt yourself being pressed into the mattress as Yuta tackled you on the bed, his lips kissing any part of your face that he could reach, a wide, dazzling grin on his lips as he held you tightly to him.

“I was yours then --”

Kiss.

“I’m yours now --”

Kiss.

“I’m yours forever.”

And he meant it.

[hi-5-sunflower]

Chapter One

Finally decided to take the plunge and post a full chapter! Here we go!

Word count: 2,200

Summary: Laura sneaks into an alchemy storehouse at night in hopes of finding a medicinal herb for her sick father.

Content notices: Mild violence, mention of illness, mild blood

Laura never thought she’d be the type to commit a crime.

And yet, here she was.

Against a clear night sky, the alchemy storehouse loomed like a great block of granite, its entrance attended by a solitary pacing guard. Laura watched from the shadows of the field beyond, concealed amid a patch of dusty desert weeds, her spine burning from the strain of prolonged crouching. Clutching the heavy stone was cramping her hand, but patience was key if she had any hope for success tonight.

The guard’s dull yellow Glow lantern, hanging from a hook on the building’s face, did its best to fend off the gloom of the moonless night. Intuitively, Laura knew the field she hid out in was little more than a black void, but the night-vision tonic she’d taken kept fooling her; she could make out the cracks in the dirt beneath her feet, could count the twigs on the skeletal stalks around her as though a full moon shone overhead.

She watched as the guard approached the nearest corner of the storehouse before turning on his heel to march back, and Laura’s grip tightened around the stone, its jagged edges biting into her palm.

Almost.

As he reached the far corner, she seized her moment, rising up and hurling the rock as hard as she could. It sailed through the air, arcing over the field to a spot near where the guard stood.

With a thump and a rustle, it made contact with brittle shrubbery, and sure enough, the guard’s attention snapped toward it.

Now!

Laura darted from her cover, acutely aware of her footfalls pattering on the dirt as she hurried forward, pinning her knapsack to her body to silence it, making for the side of the storehouse. Giddiness fueled her as she sped across open land, not daring to look in the guard’s direction, not slowing her pace until she was tucked snug against the dark northern wall.

From here she crept silently alongside the building, staying deep in shadow. There might be another guard stationed at the rear entrance, but with any shred of luck, the first one wouldn’t raise the alarm.

At the corner, she knelt low, peering around slowly. This side was also lit by a hanging lantern, but to her immense relief, no one was back here. At least, not at the moment.

Still, that meant the first guard was responsible for watching back here, too, or there were others nearby. A stable and another low building were positioned in such a way that if someone inside looked out, they could easily see her.

No time to lose.

Unlike the front entrance, which was a standard door, the rear entrance was big enough to give entry to animal-drawn supply carts, closed off by a pair of massive wooden gates. An iron chain wound tightly between the gates, held fast by a heavy padlock. Laura approached, nodding to herself, and fished a set of lockpicks from her bag.

All week, she’d gathered every lock she could get her hands on in preparation for this moment, working at them for hours until she could’ve picked them in her sleep. Never mind that this lock was twice as big as those. That was just another of many hurdles to overcome tonight.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her as she fumbled with the greasy contraption, trying not to jangle the chain. She’d spent the last six years of her life in the Silver Guard, a faithful servant of the law, busting petty criminals for...

Well, this.

And yet, here I am.

She couldn’t afford to feel too bad about that now, though. That could come later.

With a heavy click, the lock popped open, and Laura exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath. The chain threatened to slide out of place, but she caught hold of it before it could make too much noise. She deliberately extracted it just enough that she could sidle between the doors and into the storehouse.

It was tempting to congratulate herself for this small success, but the job wasn’t done yet. She drew the gates closed behind her and turned her attention to the abyss she now stood in.

A broad skylight interrupted the middle of the ceiling, a dim sprinkle of stars visible through the glass panes, but the rest of the room was a jungle of silhouettes. She dug into her knapsack again, feeling around for her portable Glow lamp, as her enhanced night vision could only do so much in an area as large and dark as this. She pulled the little lamp out and switched it on, finding herself in an absolute labyrinth of towering shelves.

Oh boy.

She took a breath, inhaling the strange scent of the place—herbaceous, with a hint of horse—and reviving her determination. Lyusk root was the prize she sought, the key to alleviating her father’s incessant, painful coughing. Of the countless herbalists and apothecaries she’d visited in the last month, not a single one had the root for sale anymore, reducing her options to two: leave her father to suffer, or raid the stores of some high-profile alchemy company.

By that point, it hadn’t been a difficult choice. Now if she could only figure out where they’d stashed that damn root.

Her cylindrical lamp was designed to concentrate its Glow, but the cavernous darkness easily swallowed its faint white beam. She started down an aisle, checking crate labels, but some of the chicken-scratch print was barely legible. Squinting, she made out the words hyssop seeds on one.

The crates on the shelf beside it were labeled iceberry leaf extract, so she placed her bet on alphabetical arrangement. That meant she wasn’t terribly far from the lyusk root, assuming this place had some.

If it didn’t...

She pushed the thought from her mind and scanned labels as she hurried alongside the shelves, hoping she wouldn’t have to climb up high. Her pulse picked up as she skimmed the L’s: lavender...lion blossom...lotus concentrate...

Magnolia bark...

No!

Maybe it was up high after all. She took a few steps back, raising her lamp over her head to try glimpsing the labels on the upper shelves, but it was no good.

Taking note of her position, she went in search of a ladder, but before she could get far, a rattle echoed through the storehouse.

Someone was opening the gate.

Laura’s heart stopped. She fumbled with the lamp, switching it off, then knelt against a shelf in the dark, hardly daring to breathe.

“Okay, good try,” drawled a voice, echoing hollowly throughout the room. “I know someone’s in here. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

She could see the guard silhouetted in the thin gap between the gates, and to her dismay, he was flanked by two others. They, too, carried Glow lamps, but theirs were much brighter than hers, emitting long beams that cut through the darkness.

They split up, their beams swinging this way and that. As one set of footsteps approached Laura’s hiding place, she chose her moment and bolted, treading lightly as she wound her way through the maze.

She took refuge against a stack of crates near the exit. One guard still stood between her and freedom.

“I’ll make you a deal,” the guard called out. “Quit wasting my time and I’ll consider letting you go without reporting you.” Laura briefly considered the offer, but it was probably a bluff. She remained silent, trying not to breathe too hard or to let her nerves gain authority as she waited for her chance to escape.

The first guard’s lamp beam continued to probe into the blackness around him as he stood firm by the gate. Come on. You won’t find me like that. Any second now, one of his friends would make their way around a corner and spot her. She was stuck here until he decided to budge.

After what felt like an hour, he finally did, grumbling to himself as he made his way between two rows of shelves.

She sprinted for the gate. In her haste to get outside, her knapsack caught on the dangling length of chain, which emitted a deafening clatter as it slid to the ground.

Crap!

The guard’s beam honed in on the entrance just as she ducked away.

“Hey!”

Laura ran for it. Her heart battered against her chest as she skidded around the corner, trying to fight down her rising panic. They were pushing through the gate now. If she could make it into town, she could probably lose them, but she had to get there first.

Adrenaline spurred her forward, her hearing muffled by the rush of air in her ears. They were falling behind, she was sure of it...

And then, without warning, she collided face first into a brick wall.

Except the wall had hands, which closed around her wrists like a vice, resisting her attempts to wrench free.

“Alright, pal,” said her captor. “Fun’s over.”

Damn it.

The other two guards caught up, shining their blinding lights into her face, illuminating her failure. She squinted at them as defiantly as she could manage, and they responded by seizing her knapsack and tying her hands behind her back with scratchy rope.

“Nothing stolen in here,” said one guard, digging around in the knapsack. “Not much of a thief, eh?”

“Get her out of here,” said another. “Let the Guardians deal with her.”

They dumped her unceremoniously onto a rickety supply cart, and with her hands bound, it was a rough landing. A flash of white erupted behind her eyes as her head clashed with coarse wood, and after that, there was blood in her mouth.

It tasted like defeat.

Someone fetched a mule from the nearby stable, and a moment later the cart lurched into motion. Laura mentally cursed herself throughout the sore, splintery ride, trying not to think about the slew of problems she’d just created for herself.

Once they got into town, she was handed over to the Silver Guard as promised. As the official peacekeepers of the Tri-Realm Republic, the Guard were, to most, a symbol of leadership, protection, and upstanding citizenship. Laura grew up admiring that black-and-silver uniform and was ecstatic the day she finally got to don it herself, but at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to see.

It was only a matter of time now before word of this incident got to her commanding officer. Before her own uniform was taken away for good. She cursed herself again.

“Alchemy storehouse, huh?” said the Guardian, mild amusement in her tone as she untied Laura’s hands. “Must be some fun stuff in there.”

Laura dropped her gaze, examining the prickly desert burs caught in the laces of her boots. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Silverton.” Laura sighed. “Listen, my mother’s name is Eva Alvez, and I suppose you ought to send someone to inform her of this.” Her mother was not going to be pleased with her, but better someone else broke the news first.

“You’re Senator Alvez’s girl?” said the Guardian, scanning her. “Oh yeah, I see it. Looks like the spikefruit fell a few miles from the tree, huh?” She paused to chuckle at her own joke. “Let’s getcha back to Silverton, then.”

The Guardian took her to the Rift station, which was fortunately quiet this time of night. There were still just enough people around to stare uncomfortably, though, as Laura’s chaperone took her to the front of the line and received clearance to the gate labeled ZASSK–SILVERTON.

Rift gates were the fastest way to travel long distances, and the only way to travel between realms. Suspended within a metal archway, the gate was a translucent, rippling surface, like an upright pool of water. Peering into it, Laura could just make out the blurred figures of people milling about on the other side.

She stepped through, momentarily engulfed in the familiar staticky sensation. Her skin prickled fuzzily, and not a second later, she was in the Rift station in Silverton, the capital city of the Republic and her hometown.

The Guardian led Laura to the local Guard post, though her feet reluctantly carried her there on their own. To her chagrin, astonished faces greeted her as her comrades realized tonight’s offender was one of their own. Pointedly avoiding eye contact, she let herself be escorted into the holding room, not at all in the mood to explain.

The small room was furnished with a half-dozen chairs, a low table offering a few recent copies of Republic News Weekly, and an off-white Glow lamp fixed high on the wall. In all of her years working here, she’d never known how stiff these chairs were.

Time crawled in the silence, making her acutely aware of her pounding headache and the smarting scrape on her temple. Not to mention the constant self-reminders that, for all the trouble she’d gone to tonight, she’d come away empty handed after all.

I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll get that lyusk root for you somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Here's the full intro for the book if you're interest in learning more about it!

Tagging @thelaughingstag 🦌🙂

[krinsbez]

The Heroes, Season Two: The Most Deadly Game

@skjam​, @jcogginsa​, @maxwell-grant​, @anyone else interested...

-The Era: The ‘30s.

-The Location: A jungle island in the Caribbean (I think?)

-The Heroes: Pat Savage; Jane Porter Clayton, Lady Greystoke; Laurence “Larry” Talbot

-The Villains: General Zaroff; The Wolf Man

-The Concept...

Original suggestion by @jcogginsa​...

- General Zaroff, the antagonist of ‘The Most Dangerous  Game’ sinks a cruise ship, which he believes Doc Savage is aboard,  believing that Savage will survive and make it to Zaroff’s island, where  he can hunt him for sport. Unfortunately, he’s misinformed, because the  Savage aboard the ship is actually Patricia Savage, not Clark. She,  along with other pulp heroes who were aboard, then have to deal with  Zaroff. Possibly with the Wolfman and Tarzan involved

Comment by @skjam​:

“Most Dangerous  Game” with Pat Savage?  If you want to make things really tough for  Zaroff, team her up with Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke.  By the third  Tarzan book, Jane’s the second-best person in the world at jungle  survival.  (She drops back to third once their son reaches his teens.)

Comment by @krinsbez​:

-On Most Dangerous Game: I love the concept, but I can’t buy Gen. Zaroff by himself as being a legitimate threat when Tarzan is involved? (as far as I’m concerned. kidnapping Jane is a form of suicide)

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

Re: Most Dangerous Game, Perhaps Jane was travelling separately from Tarzan for plot related reasons. Alternatively, while Jane manages to escape the Ship due to the place she happened to be in, Tarzan was trapped aboard it. So while She and Pat are dealing with Zaroff and whoever he’s got with him, Tarzan to going through The Poseidon adventure 

Comment by @maxwell-grant​:

Re: Most Dangerous Game. I think Tarzan’s inclusion can actually be a good way to set the pace of the story. He’s not gonna be in the actual roster of characters trapped in Zaroff’s game, because the minute Tarzan meets Zaroff, it’s game over. Instead of making Tarzan a supporting player or main character, we make him to Zaroff what the Crocodile is to Captain Hook.

Maybe Zaroff is either using Jane specifically because he set his sights on the man who most embodies “the most dangerous game” and suicidally thinks he’s a match for Tarzan, or he wants to get rid of Jane as soon as possible because he knows Greystoke is WAY out of his league, and he figures he has to kill her and kill her NOW before Tarzan gets there (he may even consider letting her leave, but then reason that she would eventually tell Tarzan and he’d come after him anyway). His desperation grows as his attempts grow bolder, putting more danger on the characters but also painting a bigger target on his own back as the odds of him being spared a gruesome demise diminish by the second.

Putting somewhat of a role reversal where not only our characters have to deal with being hunted, but our villain hunting them is also dealing with being hunted himself, and he’s either scared shitless or unreasonably excited over it. Maybe both. Having Zaroff as a co-protagonist of sorts I think could be a way to shake up the structure compared to the last season, since he’s very different from Count Satan and a far more dynamic, engaging character. For our heroes, the time is ticking until Zaroff finds them. And for Zaroff, the time is ticking until Tarzan finds him. Will our heroes defeat Zaroff and escape? Will Zaroff kill one or more of them before Tarzan arrives? Will Tarzan arrive in time?

Another note: Zaroff’s casting. I don’t really have too strong of an idea but one that comes to mind is Jemaine Clement, based on his performances as Boris the Animal and particularly Vladislav (genuinely one of my favorite on-screen Draculas). Someone who can play a decadent, aristocratic villain who can be both reasonably intimidating but also humorous and likeable enough for us to even sort of root for him, even as he’s being a dastardly ghoul.

His comedy chops in particular make me think he could do a great job at depicting the gradual mental breakdown of Zaroff as his ego unravels and all his plans fail and he grows all the more desperate to kill the girl and her stupid friends NOW before that damn dirty ape man gets here and ruins everything oh god he’s gonna be here any minute NO, WHAT NONSENSE, I AM THE GRREAT COUNT ZAROFF, I SHOULD BE RRR-RELISHING THE ODDS OF FACING THE GRRREATEST OF BEASTS, BUT OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE WHY WON’T SHE DIE-

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

I definitely think Zaroff would be excited, though I could also see the mixture being a good idea.

One thing I worry about regarding Tarzan’s presence as a looming threat for Zaroff is that it might do a disservice to the leads to have the villain constantly fearing the arrival of a different character. However, I gives me an idea.

Basically, at some point within the season, Zaroff begins receiving updates from his servants, regarding the approach of Tarzan, eventually getting to the point where Tarzan is actively on the island, and Zaroff has to move quickly so as to simultaneously hunt the girls while avoiding him.

Then in the Climax, the truth comes out: Tarzan was never there. He hasn’t even received word of the boat’s sinking yet, so he doesn’t even know Jane is in danger. The updates on his approach were orchestrated by the girls, as a form of psychological warfare to throw Zaroff off his game.

Comment by @maxwell-grant​:

@jcogginsa​ Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I see no reason to do anything different.

It allows both for Zaroff’s fears and desperation to keep stewing until a boiling point and for him to grow into the co-protagonist role but also doesn’t downplay the worth of our protagonists. I imagined early on that Tarzan would have little to no role in the proceedings and the downfall of Zaroff (and whatever other villain we may team him with) would be brought entirely by the girls under his nose, but to have Tarzan not even be on his way not only ups the tension for the girls, but it also makes their victory more impressive.

In regards to Zaroff being scared of Tarzan: I suggest it mostly because I think it leads to fun scenarios and also makes him a bit of an underdog even which better suits my idea of Zaroff as almost the co-protagonist, but I do think it can be grounded in stronger reasons. I imagine Zaroff wouldn’t be scared of Doc Savage, despite also being someone bordering on superhuman, because Doc isn’t exactly known for being a wild man of legend who is perfectly willing to inflict savage jungle brutality on those who cross him and his allies, Doc is known as a great adventurer, man of science and crimefighter. Zaroff, in his arrogance, would think of Doc as a great challenge, but one he could take. A city dweller spoiled by his riches and privilege. He would like to think of himself as able to overcome Doc, as he overcomes the jungle and all savage beings in it. “It appears Clark Jr wasn’t much of a Savage after all”, he says as he mounts a new head on his wall.

Of course Count Zaroff at first is going to be dissappointed that the Savage he was looking to hunt is not the great doctor, but merely his female cousin. And Zaroff isn’t going to be scared of Jane. Why, the Grreat Count Zaroff, being scared of, dare I say it, a WOMAN? TWO, EVEN? PRREPOSTEROUS.

But the Legendary Count Greystoke, Tarzan of the Apes, he who kills and skins lions with his bare hands, fears nothing and no one, who knows the jungle far better than Zaroff ever could and can rely on all it’s inhabitants for help, and is known for being fiercely protective of the woman he loves and has killed men for lesser offenses? Zaroff isn’t that suicidal, and of course the girls use the fact that they are underestimated to their advantage. Zaroff only thinks of the girls, and whoever else they are with, as targets, and Tarzan as the only threat he is terrified and excited for in equal measure, and that becomes his undoing.

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

I’m glad you like the idea Max. A further thought on the season: When I first pitched the idea, I recall throwing out the possibility of the Wolf Man, Lawrence Talbot, being present, and I’d like to expand on that.

The idea goes that Zaroff has let the Wolfman loose on his island, with the intent of passing him off as a beast terrorizing the local populace. The reason he does this is because he quite admires Doc Savage, and before he hunts the man, he’d like to hunt alongside him. Pat and Jane are initially a disappointment to him, as he figures that women aren’t really good enough to make for an entertaining hunt. However, when Pat and Jane hear about the ‘beast’, they insist on helping the hunt, since they’re good conscious won’t let them leave that be.

In the process of hunting the Wolfman and (seemingly) killing him, Zaroff becomes impressed enough with them that he decides they’re good prey after all. Jane and Pat eventually meet up with Lawrence, who tells him of Zaroff’s original plan of hunting Doc, and that’s when they put together the Tarzan fake out plan. They figure that if Zaroff’s goal was to hunt Doc, then he could have simply sent Pat to inform him of the ‘threat’ so as to lure him to the island, and that the only reason why he wouldn’t have done so would be because it would draw Tarzan to the island as well

And I think we’re caught up!

So, I like the idea of having poor Larry in the mix; it’s even possible he volunteered for the gig, because I’m pretty sure that at this point (while I don’t believe we have an official timeframe for the Universal Monsters films, they all take place in the late Nineteenth century, so Larry’s been The Wolf Man for decades) he’s pretty much given up on being cured, and is now trying to find a way to die that will actually stick (at this point he’s been “killed” with silver and then revived by magic or mad science so many times it doesn’t work anymore, it just keeps him down for a few years or less), and Zaroff has convinced him he can do that.

It very quickly becomes apparent Zaroff lied about that, and Larry is Not. Happy. I mean, even more so than usual. Also, Zaroff failed to mention there would be other people on the island who might become Wolf Man chow, or that said people would be female.

I also imagine that Zaroff underestimated how dangerous The Wolf Man is; he figured, OK it’s basically an oversized wolf, and I’ve killed loads of those, as long as I keep some silver rounds on hand, it’ll be fine. He’s a modern man, not prone to believing in peasant superstitions, and did not really comprehend how unnaturally vicious and hard to kill the thing is.

It also adds an extra element of danger, even if Tarzan does arrive, because his usual toolbox is not gonna help with The Wolf Man, and in fact is liable to get him turned into a werewolf himself, and the idea of Tarzan as a werewolf is too terrible to contemplate.

On the plus side, Pat’s pretty confident her cousin can cure him. She just has to convince Larry of that.