#what is elope marriage

[azu1as]

Hi, Tin! I love your writing and I have a prompt for you, if you are interested) what if Tang family is too afraid of Tang Bo leaving permanently and eloping with Cheong Myeong? So they initiate marriage negotiations with Mount Hua. It can be angst (CM is socially isolated and insecure about his position) or romantic comedy (awkward situations and protective Cheong Mun), up to you). Thank you in advance!

It was a well-established fact that the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was one of their generation's best.

So it came as no surprise when an influx of marriage proposals flooded their family's estate—because rumors started flying around that the Dark Saint was in search of a partner.

The Dark Saint held a reputation for being cold and ruthless. To cultivators and martial artists, he was someone they feared making into an enemy due to his sheer battle prowess and poisonous abilities. To normal civilians, he was a genius who wielded the Tang Family's techniques with cool precision and intent; to them, he was just another mysterious cultivator that they would only ever know of through gossip and stories.

However, in recent years, something shifted. His reputation among common folk was slowly altered. It started off with a supposed battle between him and the Plum Blossom Sword Saint which turned into a sudden and unexpected friendship.

Whereas in the past the Dark Saint would only go around Sichuan and closeby villages, he was now found going around different major cities and unknown ones.

He was often in the company of Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who worked with him side-by-side to eradicate groups from the Demonic Cult and the occasional bandits and thieves.

For supposed Taoists, the two visited different establishments to drink alcohol and talk cheerily. It was during one of these moments that the first rumor began its spark.

"Ahhhh," The Plum Blossom Sword Saint groans in satisfaction. "That sure hits the spot!"

The Dark Saint chuckles as he tosses back his own drink. "If only I could enjoy everyday like this. Alcohol really is the best."

"What would your future wife think?" The Plum Blossom Sword Saint jokingly and dramatically shakes his head in disappointment. "To have a husband who loves alcohol more than his own wife...!"

The Dark Saint wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Trust me, I would make sure that my wife knows full-well just how much I love them."

The two of them share a silent, private conversation with just their eyes alone, that none of the other restaurant's customers could decipher, before they leave a generous tip and went on their way.

It snowballs from there.

All of a sudden gossip went around about the Dark Saint's interest in finding a wife. And so several people came to the same conclusion.

The reason why the Dark Saint is travelling around more than usual is because he's looking for a prospective wife.

Clearly, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint was there to provide moral support. How truly admirable and strong their brotherhood must be!

On the other hand, the head of the Tang Family was fully aware of their Dark Saint's single-minded interest in Mount Hua's Chung Myung.

Seeing all the stacks of letters that ranged from proposing strategic alliances and general marriage offers brought the current head of the Tang Family to a very different conclusion.

Tang Bo was trying to slowly draw himself away from their family by leaving their estate. He might be on the hunt, jumping from village to village, trying to create a dowry befitting for the hand of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and scouting out all the best locations to settle down in.

It really wouldn't be too surprising of an idea if one day a letter turns up from the man with an intent of permanently moving to Mount Hua or some backwater village.

The Tang Family head shakes the thought of losing one of their best and genius members to one of the Ten Great Sects. If he wanted to maintain their family's reputation, he'll need to strike the first move.

And so he begins to pen a decisive letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

%%%

Chung Mun's hands tremble as reads the letter sent to him by the Tang Family.

'Who did they think they were?' He would have bit out if he had any less self-restraint. The paper crumples in his grip and he receives a questioning glance from Chung Myung who was sprawled eating mooncakes on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's got you so worked up?" The subject of the letter askswithout a care.

Chung Mun takes a deep breath. "The Tang Family wishes for you to transfer into their estate."

He refuses to say out loud the marriage proposal that came along with this request. His Chung Myung was too young! The man might be a sixty years old, but that round face, cheeks carelessly bulging with mooncakes with crumbs littered on his chin, screamed too young for marriage!

"Oh." Chung Myung nods in understanding.

Chung Mun is glad that Chung Myung agrees that this was nonsensical. To think, they thought that Chung Myung would even leave Mount Hua for—

"After the war is over, Tang Bo and I were planning to be roommates and travel the world a bit."

—?????

"Roommates?" Chung Mun's voices comes out slightly strangled.

"Yup. It's going to be great."

"No."

"'No'?"

Chung Mun tries to run through his previous conversations with Tang Bo. He knew that the man was capable of being underhanded, but he was also well-aware that Tang Bo respected him enough to not blind-side him with something like this. Especially since it concerned Chung Myung.

...

...Oh no.

"Fuck." Chung Mun says, full of feeling as he recalls Tang Bo off-handedly asking permission to live together with Chung Myung in the future.

"...Sect Leader?"

Chung Mun had thought that was a joke! He thought Tang Bo wasn't being serious! They were talking with alcohol in their systems!

The alarmed look that crosses Chung Myung's face informed Chung Mun that the way he felt his blood drain from his face was a visible, physical reaction.

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Chung Mun says faintly. "I said yes."

Chung Myung blinked at him. "Yeah? He told me?"

Okay. Tang Bo, to his credit, hasn't been leaving Chung Myung in the dark at least.

If Chung Myung knows and isn't reacting violently that means that he isn't completely against this. Even if Chung Mun was, he had to reorganize his priorties.

And his number one would be to make sure Chung Myung was happy.

((And to make sure that the Tang Family doesn't think they can step on Chung Mun and pull his little brother away.))

"I'll have to recheck the sect's budget and my own savings to make sure we have enough for the wedding preparations..." Chung Mun mutters as he begins drafting a response to the Tang Family with what he thought were better marriage agreement conditions.

But then, a flash of dread causes Chung Mun to pause writing and leave a dark ink blot on the paper. He suspected, but he really wishes that he was wrong—!

"Huh?" Chung Myung gives Chung Mun a confused look. "We already got married though?"

[tremordusk]

@nyoclosmom I will take the eyeliner and black nail polish I will accept your apology mom

I am breaking my silence. I wanna come home.

@polaris-likethestar I accept defeat you are the favorite child

@yourbasicqueerie I’m sorry for acting out, I was confusedddd

@acricketcannot somehow we ended up married

[sickgraymeat]

I think she’s a romantic. I know this scene seems like a huge counterpoint to that lolll but really! I think she’s a romantic who’s also very pragmatic and private about her feelings and personal life, and who’s not very good at romance lmao. She loves ceremony. Like 75% of her career is essentially “making the toys kiss” in both a metaphorical and an almost-literal sense. Getting Hambo back was a grand romantic gesture!! She’s always embarrassed by it / shy about it when it’s personal but who isn’t lol

[pedges]

WOKE UP MARRIED IN VEGAS JOEL FICCC i need psychiatric evaluation

BRAINROT IS BRAINROTTING

no because imagine it

you and joel are friends (good friends? best friends? does joel miller even do best friends? you don’t know. you do know you spend a lot of time with him, you love sarah, tommy, and you get this fuzzy feeling around all of them but it’s a little different with joel. whatever.) and maybe one of you wins some all expenses paid trip to vegas, probably joel, absolutely joel, because tommy whines and asks joel to bring him as his plus one but joel asks you and you’re not sure why but fuck it, right? tommy flips you off dropping y’all off at the airport but he still wishes you guys lots of fun (he loves y’all, he’s like your annoying brother too). but it’s like, it’s just you and joel and vegas and you’ve seen enough movies to know it might not end well. actually, though, it starts out really fun. the contest included tickets to whatever current artist residency, and it’s fun. at least until you guys start drinking too much, and things get blurry, and you end up at some shitty little chapel because one of you got emotional (both. probably both) over how being single sucks and it’s not fair because you deserve love and to be loved and to give love and UGH! you’re not sure who suggests it but you end up at some shitty little chapel because some drunken “i love you, man!” “i love YOU, man!”s were exchanged and it’s just a very fun and shimmery night. except you wake up the next morning naked in bed with joel in your hotel room and you’re cuddled up against his chest, he’s snoring in your ear, and he’s so warm, and comfy, and safe, and familiar but oh my god, you’re naked in bed with joel. and your head fucking hurts. he starts waking up when it seeps in and you shout and push him out of bed and now you’ve both got a headache worse than it should’ve been. he’s naked, you’re naked, he’s on the floor, you’re both wearing wedding rings. there’s a polaroid of you two kissing on the nightstand, drunk, and messy, but genuine. it’s painfully obvious that you’re married, did something last night your sober minds would never had the guts to do, and well! fuck! joel mentions annulment faster than you can remember how to breathe and you’re not sure why your chest feels so tight but you agree because you have to, of course you do. he apologizes, so do you, and you both go back to texas with the notion in mind that this will be undone faster than you know it, and you’ll never have to speak about it again. neither one of you asks why you haven’t taken the rings off yet. (of course there’s aftermath but this is so long already oh my god i’m sorry)

[novococain]

🦴

[myowndesertplaces]

So, um, KB and I got engaged over Thanksgiving. So that's fun.

[imageingrunge]

i desperately want my inky to be happy after dav cuz all my dragon age romances have ended terribly so far Alister and amell yeah suicide pact in the deep roads…Hawke n that weird throuple he has going on w Fenris Anders and Isabella atm?? Yeah well I left him in the fade to fight that giant demon spider 🫠

[hairtusk]

impossibly long week ahead of me, but made infinitely easier knowing that i am so deeply beloved by my boyfriend and that we belong entirely to each other :') the light of my life forever and always

[pinkfey]

the marriage process is so convoluted and for what

[savourings]

just saying, not once have i regretting eloping. i have five pictures of my wedding day and only two friends attended and it was all more than enough. do whatever the fuck you both want and you’ll be happier for it, I cannot stress this enough

[cursedwithwords]

HP Next Gen Headcanons: Scorpius

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy

House: Slytherin

Wand: yew and unicorn hair

Patronus: black swan

Boggart: Delphi and/or Harry (separating him from Albus; more specifically being abandoned/alone)

Profession: healer (specializes in curses)

Sexuality: bisexual

Image(picrew):

Bonus: has his mother's eyes. Decides to study healing and curses because of his mother's blood malediction and because he wanted to remove his father’s dark mark to entirely free him of his traumatic past (it takes a very long time but he does eventually develop a counter curse that effectively removes it). Unlike Albus he was interested in Quidditch and tried out his second year but was quickly rejected. Albus was angrier about it than Scorpius. Raised on the fine arts as many purebloods are but is pretty useless when it comes to more basic home-ec like cooking and cleaning. His mother got him into gardening and herbology, which helped him bond with Hugo in particular because he was also interested in it. They get on outrageously well but Rose does not approve of their friendship. Has a close relationship with Lily, who absolutely loves him, as well as with Teddy who used to babysit him when he was super young. The first time he sees Albus is actually when Teddy shows him a photo of himself with the Potter kids (always thought he had super pretty eyes). Suffers from lingering effects of the cruciatus curse that Delphi used against him, like phantom pains, stiff hands and difficulty breathing when it gets too cold. Has ptsd from the incident and consistently has nightmares about losing Albus. Initially thought Harry was literally the coolest SOB in the universe until he started school, and by the end of fourth year actually became really frightened of him ("please don't take albus from me" that kind of thing). He really likes Ginny but is super shy and nervous around her.

Extras:

Wand Wood — yew

"Yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and all curses. However, it is untrue to say (as those unlearned in wandlore often do) that those who use yew wands are more likely to be attracted to the Dark Arts than another. The witch or wizard best suited to a yew wand might equally prove a fierce protector of others. Wands hewn from these most long-lived trees have been found in the possession of heroes quite as often as of villains. Where wizards have been buried with wands of yew, the wand generally sprouts into a tree, guarding the dead owner’s grave. What is certain, in my experience, is that the yew wand never chooses either a mediocre or a timid owner."

What better wand for a healer who specializes in curses than one of yew powered by unicorn hair? Scorpius receives this wand from Olivander after his first wand (willow and unicorn hair) is broken by Delphini. While Scorpius is quite timid in the beginning, he gains a new confidence in himself after the incident. Still somewhat timid in nature, he is not a pushover when it comes to the well-being of others. The wand sensed this, as well as his ambition to cure curses, and became his perfect match. It is outrageously powerful in his capable hands, and it will work for Draco or Albus, but only if it absolutely has to (this wand absolutely picks favorites).

Patronus — black swan (very uncommon)

"Black swans are one of the most protective and loyal animals. Witches or wizards who cast a black swan Patronus are often very loving, empathetic, and caring towards their friends and family. A black swan Patronus will defeat the darkness of a Dementor with a light of love and kindness."

Like the swan, Scorpius is a very loving, empathetic, and caring person. He is protective and loyal and very kind. I give him the black swan rather than a white swan because it's so uncommon, and because I think Scorpius is an uncommon sort of person. At first glance, you may feel put out by a black swan because it isn't what you'd expect. A first impression of initial unease and fear. This goes for people's first impression of Scorpius as well because they label him before getting to know him.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: I did something I'm not proud of. Dan: Did you burn the ribs? Danny: No, Dan, the meal I promised you to get you here is fine. Dani: Did you forget the games? Danny: No, Dani, the board games I promised you, to get you here are in the same game room as last time. Jazz: Did you sell the hot tub? Danny: No, Jazz, the spa day I promised you to get you here will be happening tomarrow as scheduled. Dan: Then what you do? Danny: I got married this morning. Dani: You eloped!? Danny: The marriage was because of a cult Jazz: You're in a cult!? Danny: I'm Mr.Wayne now Dan: You didn't keep the family name! Danny: It wasn't my proudest moment, but a Phantom worshiping cult caught me in a summoning circle. They planned on sacrificing Bruce Wayne, a rich, beloved human they kidnapped, to use his death as a binding charm, forever enslaving me to them. I couldn't let him die, so I started a ghost marriage. Being married to me made the ritual invalid. Ten seconds after I finished my vows, Nightwing crashed through a window and set us free. It made the whole marriage pointless, and I ended up looking like an immortal idiot. Dan: Oh I forgot about that. Till this day I wasn't able to divorce him- Danny did you know we can't count as widows since we're partcially dead? Danny: YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN?! Dan: In defense, half of the world was destroyed at this point in my timeline, so I didn't think it would happen to you. My marriage to Bruce was entirely blown out of proportion. World leaders should have focused more on the menace tearing the world apart. Danny: YOU WERE THE MENACE. Dani: Wait does this mean Danny is sleeping with Dan's husband? Dan: *Gasp* It seems my greatest enemy was myself all along. Danny: There is no sleeping with anyone! Jazz: So, going back to the hot tub- will wine be provided or should I go get my own? Danny: I don't know what I bother hosting siblings night. Get out my house. Dan/Dani/Jazz: No. Danny: I hate you all.

[cupidlovesastro]

🪦𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔧𝔬𝔶🎀

astrology observations #18 (life experiences)

astrology observations #17 (placements i wouldn’t wish on my worse enemy)

astrology observations #16 (child of the sun)

❦ taurus placements can really like a traditional kind of love. especially taurus moon, venus, or in 7h. they love getting flowers, and being taken to the theatres, etc

❦ mars in 7h can be irritated when in a relationship, they have a tendency to have a short temper the their lover

❦ moon conjunct or trine venus can make someone a good relationship/ marriage counselor. especially if one of those planets are in the 10h

❦ capricorn venus’s love to work for their partners. although, they love getting what they want, when they want it. capricorns are ambitious, and getting the person they wanted is like a reward to them

❦ 4h ruler in 7h can show that your families opinion on your marriage or relationships in general are important to you. especially your mom’s opinion

❦ venus aspecting neptune can mean your kind of delusional when in love

❦ air sign placements love a relationship where they feel like their partner is their best friend and they also love having freedom

❦ 7h ruler in the 9h can mean that you will get eloped or will travel to a different country to get married. you may also have a cultural wedding

❦ leo placements, especially moon and venus are highly passionate lovers. they are very expressive in their way of love as well. they may show all forms of affection, but especially physical touch and words of affirmations

❦ venus in the 2h can show that this person really values love, including self love. they may also desire a lover who has money and may be fortunate enough to obtain a lover like that

❦ libra placements really need someone who balances them out, and someone who also cares about the togetherness of the relationship, and not just the “i” in the relationship

[oceantornadoo]

ch1 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

-

“Yer gettin’ married next week.”

You scoff at your brother staring at his Scotch whisky like it holds the answers to the universe.

“And you’re the king of Egypt. Funny, Simon.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he glances at Johnny, his husband and right-hand man. The two have a silent conversation, a head twitch followed by a pursing of lips. Johnny’s lips are cracked and split, something you can’t imagine your brother is attracted to. Superb mental health does not run in your family.

Johnny rises out of his chair, a wooden thing that creaks with effort, and takes his leave. He ruffles your hair on the way out while you try, for the thirtieth time, to shove his side. You are, yet again, unsuccessful. He’s built like a tank.

“M serious, love. ‘Ve been in negotiations the past month. It’s happenin’ next Saturday, St Etheldreda's Church.” You run through a list of churches in your head. St. Ethledreda’s is not in Manchester. In fact, you’re pretty sure it’s not in your territory. Which means…

“Why’re you naming a church in London?” Simon’s quiet as his eyes bore holes into yours. This is one of his favorite tactics to use on his men - staying silent until they find the answer themselves. You hate when he uses it on you like you’re under his command and not his younger sister. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“We need an alliance an’ they offered.”

“Then write a fuckin’ treaty! Not a marriage certificate.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s the 21st century.”

“Not in this family.”

That’s something you can’t argue against. Most people outside of your immediate circle don’t even know Simon’s married to Johnny, let alone into men. When he first came to power, you created a sob story for him - early marriage to his (female) childhood sweetheart, then fast-spreading cancer, ending with a man struck by grief. It allowed him a known reason for turning down arranged marriages while making him seem more human than your shared father. No one paid enough attention to you two as children to know the story wasn’t real, and fake certificates of marriage and death are a dime a dozen. Everyone knows he’s close with Johnny, his right-hand man, and that’s that.

“What about my bookstore?” It’s your pride and joy, plus it’s 95% legal. Mostly. 

“There’s bookstores in London.” London. Only 200 miles away, but it’s like another world. Another world where you can’t walk down the street where every single storefront owner knows who you are. Where the cops are on your family’s payroll and don’t blink an eye at the gun strapped to your hip. It doesn’t matter if you were raised away in your formative years, losing your accent and most concepts of slang that baffle you. It doesn’t matter if you only share a father with Simon, that your mother was a Riley employee and not Mrs. Riley. Manchester is your home. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you have a choice, mainly because you know you don’t. The firm, or mafia, gang, or whatever you want to call it, still operates as if women are objects to be traded and bought. Marriages are merely political agreements. Getting to run a bookstore, or cash-cleaning business, as a woman is almost unheard of where you’re from. Others might call you lucky, but it’s more like being a bird in a gilded cage. A glimpse of what a true, normal life might look like. Living in a flat above your store, hosting local book clubs, setting out free cookie samples - all to be ruined when Johnny stumbles through with a gunshot or the newest recruits are sent to grab more bullets from the basement. Every other week, you snap back from your daydream and remember that you’re a mafia princess at the end of the day, though duchess seems more adequate since the Rileys don’t have that big of a territory.

“And who is my husband-to-be in London?”

“John Price.”

“I’d rather marry Nikolai. In fact, I might just go elope.” Simon glares and you glare back. “I’m not marrying John Price.” You clarify, for emphasis. Simon leans forward in his office chair, looming over his desk like a puppet master. You’re in the chair across from him, crossing your legs casually like you’re not discussing your arranged marriage and potential future. “Contract’s done, love. Jus’ waitin’ on yer signature.” Your signature, the one change from the barbaric practices of old England. You could say no, but then Simon would have no choice but to cut you off. It would be a sign of weakness to the other families if he let a delinquent bastard half-sister run his decisions.

“I want to negotiate the contract.” It’s the closest your brother has ever been to rolling his eyes. They twitch with restraint, blonde lashes flickering. “This isn’t a TV show, kid. Yer not negotiatin’ yer bloody contract.” You uncross your legs, hands on your armrest like you’re about to leave. “Fine. Let me go call up the NCA, tell them all about my brother and his scary gang.” He sighs deeply, then pulls out his phone. “Bloody hell. Can’t wait t’ marry you off, fuckin’ arsehole.” You grab the bright pink stress ball on his desk, a stocking stuffer you gave him as a joke, and throw it at him. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, huffing as the ball hits the side of his head. 

“Here.” He tosses you the phone that’s already ringing. There’s no contact name, just initials. JP. “Riley. Got a problem?” A smooth baritone emits from the phone’s tinny speakers. “Hope you’re not busy this weekend, future hubby. I can’t wait to see you.” Simon sighs at the consequences of his own actions. John’s silent on the other end, processing your words. Bit thick, that one.

“An’ why’s that, sweetheart?” It’s a term of endearment but he laces it with vitriol. “We’re having tea on Saturday at my store. Bring your contract and favorite lawyers. See you then!” You hang up before he can answer, tossing the phone back to Simon. He shakes his head at you.

“Smile, Simon. It’ll be nice to bond with your brother-in-law.”

This is going to be a very long marriage.

If you even get down the aisle.

-

Why does reader hate John? Why is she also a little shit? All will be revealed :)

[luvether]

۫ ꣑ৎ . HIS ULTRAVIOLENT PROSE. mydei

summary, even with half-bitten pomegranates between tongue, teeth and heart, the prince of Kremnos tries to make amends with you.

mydei x gn!reader. mildly lovers to enemies. tension and arguments. hurt with comfort. mentions of arranged marriage and eloping (love this trope with him) soft and gentle mydei, might be ooc. lore-inclined city-state ceremonies. [2.0k wc]

It’s merely an alliance ceremony.

And yet here you were, being dressed in foreign silks and heavy accessories. Compared to your usual attires the fabrics are lightweight, enough for a cold rush to scrape your skin despite the torch lit by the corner of your room.

Your face must’ve betrayed you, for the maidens that attended to you murmured about it being part of Kremnoan traditions and that you had to endure it, only with such a solid statement do you deflate, settling stiffly and defeatedly on the chair, allowing them to continue their decorations on you, to peel you bare of your sea-state city garments and pool Castrum Kremnos‘ silk clothes, sandals and cape over you.

At this very moment, you looked like a raw and beguiling warrior, a far cry of what you truly were, an ignorant coward.

“You look beautiful.” A more elderly woman speaks from behind, you stare at her through the vanity.

“…I look like a fighter.”

“Are you not?”

You hesitate to answer her, biting your lip to prevent yourself from speaking something you might regret.

Are you still labeled a fighter after losing your city to Castrum Kremnos?

You were anything but triumph, you lost your kingdom, your pride, your people—and only this alliance union can salvage whatever scraps of glory you have left, it's the only thing you could do for your folks since you disappointed them as their leader.

The elder woman’s hand lands softly on your shoulder, despite such a gentle manner you cannot help the flinch from echoing through your bones. Your nails bury into your palms.

“I assure you, young one, that shame is the last thing Castrum Kremnos would dare to offer you and your city-state.”

She pauses.

“Our prince would not dare such a thing from you.”

You wanted to laugh, to cry and scream and ruminate frustrations. But you swallow instead, “I see.”

You did not utter another word after that. The maidens have left long ago and you pondered with your own thoughts, recounting the gradual yesterdays you spent mourning over fallen friends and a broken city. You recounted tidbit memories of the remaining council that pushed you for this alliance—forcing you to succumb and kneel towards the very people that took your everything.

After all, as the last remaining royal blood, that’s the least you can do.

The Kremnos’ heavy bells finally billow, and you inhale sharply.

“It’s time for you to step into the ceremony hall, lord.”

And you stand, your heart heavy with pressure. When you followed a counselor towards your destination, the older man gave you a quick rundown of certain rules and traditions you needed to adhere to, you half-listened to the convoluted rules until the very last statement that catches your attention,

“At the end of the blessings, you are to share a cup of pomegranate juice with the one you are to join alliance with.” he starts,

“In this case, you are to drink from the same cup with the representative of our city, Kremnos’ prince Mydeimos.”

His name is an echo through the shell of your ears, leaving a bitter aftertaste between your teeth. You stopped listening after that, until you both faltered at the end of the corridor.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the large, looming doors split open, by now, the hall is packed and standing at the very front was the ceremony priest and Mydeimos himself, awaiting your arrival. When you step beside him on the podium, your gaze dare not shift towards the prince.

You let the withered voice of the priest wander you through the prayer, he lifts an iron chalice brimming with liquid as red as blood—you watch quietly as he lifts a smaller glass of honey, letting the golden liquid pool into the red cup before blessing the drink.

The priest turns to you, with a nod he beckons you to mirror the oath spoken. With parted lips, you follow along, pledging allegiance and alliance to Castrum Kremnos, “And with the glory of Strife and blood intertwined in allegiance with Castrum Kremnos, I, the succeeding lord of my city shall share the same devotion of valorous death before glorious return.”

You tilt your chin, lips pressed against the iron. The tangy yet thickly sweet taste of pomegranate rinses through your tastebuds. When the red liquid hits the middle line, you retract, turning towards the direction of the prince.

You look at him, only to find his heavy resin eyes already on you.

Mydeimos’ blank stare traces every bare action you do, and for a split moment you try to hold his weighty stare, trying to dissect his expression—trying to see what he thinks of the whole thing, and yet you find none.

You’ve dropped your gaze then, before extending the chalice in his direction. You slightly stir when you feel his fingertips brush your knuckles, you are quick to let go when he grabs ahold of the cup—too quickly.

How audacious, you cannot help but wonder when the priest speaks the same oath to him, Mydeimos recites it but his eyes never stray from you. Truly, he’s like a prowling lion assessing its prey.

There’s a prickling sensation of self-consciousness with such a look pinned on you.

“And with the glory of Strife and blood intertwined in allegiance with Castrum Kremnos, I, Mydeimos the succeeding prince of my city shall share the same devotion of valorous death before glorious return…” he rasps, then he downs the remainder within the chalice, his golden eyes still on you.

You cannot help yourself but settle your gaze on his exposed collarbones, laddering your way up the column of his neck where you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs at the swallow of the juice, a few clumsy droplets run down his jaw before he retreats and wipes it with the back of his hand.

The bells sound once, then twice at the successful union but your mind is a flurry of thoughts, though all of them stop at one concluding statement, you desperately need to get out of the banquet hall.

So when you’re finally released from your duties, instead of lingering and talking with the folks you spin around towards the exit. Nobody seemed to bat an eyelash at your hasty departure, nor was there anyone in the hallway outside which allowed you to break into a sprint—you don’t know where you’re going, quite frankly the layout of the city is still foreign to you, but you needed to get out of there.

At the fall of your impatient footsteps, you barely hear another set chasing after you.

Only until you feel larger hands gripping your waist do you stop.

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” You don’t need to turn to know who was speaking, the plates of his half-naked front are pressed hard against your back, it acted like a furnace almost.

“Unhand me.” You try to sound casual but it ends up in a bite. “This instant, Mydeimos—“

“And what?” He challenges back. “Let you run around like a headless goose until one of the counselors finds you? Do you wish for trouble that much?”

Instead of answering, you try to pry his hands around your waist. Your attempts are obviously futile however you are wracked with frustrations, fury and confusion. Your actions only fueled the prince’s impatience.

“Quit squirming—“

“Then let me go!” You try to glare at him. “I wish to be anywhere but in your arms right now—“

That must’ve struck a nerve.

Mydeimos’ grip on you only tightened, he pulls you towards an empty corner between the heavy flaps of curtains and presses you against the wall. His hand grips your jaw—but despite such a harsh action his hold on you remains feather-light, gentle.

His face draws close to your own, until you can feel his raspy voice on your cheek. At this distance, you can smell his scent of bonfire, tender smoke and something sweet, like pomegranates, he smelled awfully fruity.

“Says the one that wishes to marry me, isn’t that what you confessed to me months before?”

The jab brings heat to your cheeks, you lift your hand with the intent to slap him but Mydeimos captures your wrist before your palm could collide with his cheek. His thumb runs up from your wrist to your palm, intertwining your fingers together and laying it on the wall beside your head, his bangs brush your forehead, face so, so close that if you tilted your head your lips would be brushing his own,

“You wanted to elope with me.” Mydei tells you. “Have you forgotten? Or do you wish for me to tell you the exact words you told me that day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this was before my city was attacked by your warriors!”

The tension hangs gauche, the silence between the two of you almost unbearable. The man before you sighs heavily, “There are a handful of things that are at my disposal, even with the title of prince—the issues of prophecies is something I cannot control.” Mydei soothes a thumb over the pulse in your wrists.

“You of all people are aware of this fact.” he pauses. “Or maybe you weren’t, after all the sea-side states are nonbelievers, you and your people don’t revere the Titans, only the arithmetics and logarithms of the world.”

“You're right, I wasn’t.” You snap. “I did not know Castrum Kremnos was prophesied to destroy my home, Mydeimos. If I had known, I wouldn’t have uttered such preposterous words to you, I was made out to be an ignorant fool because of it.”

Mydeimos’ whole demeanor takes a polar shift, you’re unsure why those eyes had melted like butter, was it your shaky voice, the pitiful wallow in your tone? Or did he truly feel an ounce of empathy for your situation?

“You're not an ignorant fool.” He lets go of your wrist but his body remains pressed up against your own, despite the position his body heat grounded you, especially with his follow up of, “to me, you’re the wisest person I know. A leader with a heart of gold, I apologize for causing you so much agony and for being unable to aid you when you need it most.”

He takes your hand, smearing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish to make amends with you but if you hold such vengeance in your heart—” he tugs your wrist, digging your fingers to his chest just above his heart. “You can scratch my heart out and kill me, stab me in the back for as long as you want if it means your desires would be satiated, then so be it.“

“…Mydeimos.” To say you were shocked was an understatement.

He softly bumps his forehead with your own. “Do you hate me, kardia mou?”

This was the very reason why you fell for him, the prince from the city of warriors. Despite the harshness of his textures and tones, when it came to you, he was honest and open. Those universal stone-cold expressions fissure as soon as he sees a glimpse of you in the distance. He spoke in uncharacteristic gentleness and his fleeting skinships sent butterflies within your chest. You cannot be angry with him, much less hate when he acts like this.

You feel him interlace your fingers, weaving his own with yours. Then he leans down once again, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, the intent of apology willing to spill from the nonexistent gaps between the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes turn glassy. Maybe it was due to Mydeimos’ comfort that every drowning pressure that you’ve bottled up comes cracking at the seams.

A sob spills between your lips.

“I don’t hate you, Mydei.” Your voice trembles when he tips your chin towards him, brushing his thumbs over the tear staining down your cheeks. “Truthfully, it is I that I loathe the most, not you—never you.”

“So please, never say that I find thrill in killing you.”

Mydei’s hand comes tangling through your tendrils, you weep on his collarbones, his woody scent engulfing you in comfort.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I’ll never speak of such a thing to you, so cease your cryings, my love.”