#why hide it if it's Crown related?

[nightofmiracles]

i kinda agree with the popular theory of Tai guarding the Crown but, if that's the case, nothing has changed, has it?

like, it's sort of implied Qrow knows the mission Tai is in charge of. if it's relic related and he didn't disclose it...? still half truths in Oz' circle?

even if Qrow doesn't know more than "Tai is doing his own thing", Oz WOULD have that knowledge. yeah?

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

Pirate au Webby!

I'm not sure how I'll be able to pull all of this off or make it make sense, but right now my idea for her is she was a siren egg kidnapped by the crown, they intended to raise her as an adopted heir princess. Beakley then takes her from them as a baby, and finds a way to stage her death or something maybe?? so they don't come looking for her and they won't try to kidnap another egg. Maybe tries to make them think because she was taken from the ocean she was dehydrated and just like. died? I'm not sure. Anyway, Beakley then retires and quietly raises her in the kingdom, but as far from the shore as possible. Then they're just a normal average 1700s peasant family, nothing weird going on here I promiiiiiiiii

[catsteeth]

Turn Your Cloak

Benjicot Blackwood x reader 

+:✿ One Shot ✿:+

Summary: You’re a Velaryon/Strong princess, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. You have unhappily left Dragonstone to travel the RiverLands on a marital tour. A marriage to untie the RiverLands with your mothers claim.  CW: MDNI, afab reader, violence, misogyny, SMUT, drunk sexual relations, fingering, biting, cum play (sorta kinda), alcohol consumption, mention of arranged marriage, proposal. A/N: your honor, I do not care if he aint bloody ben… he got me during my ovulation cycle so he’s getting a smutty one shot. 

Word Count: 6K

You swore, pleaded, and begged your mother not to send you on a marital tour. You wanted to fight for your mothers claim, for revenge, with your dragon Silverwing. A giant beast whose loyalty to you was greater than any other.

You did not wish to be paraded around the realm as if you were a ladder for a house to climb towards the crown. But you knew it was inevitable.

Your mother had no desire to betroth you to the only eligible Targaryen. Nor did Alicent have any desire to wed her trueborn son to the bastard daughter of Dragonstone. And now it was impossible, blood was shed and war was afoot.

In the gantry of Dragonstone, Silverwing stood beside you as you begrudgingly shoved your hands into the leather of your riding gloves. Her feeling your unhappiness nudged you with her snout as she often did. It used to push you to the ground but now you were used to it. You ran your hand up her snout, smiling softly as her nostrils flared and her eyes blinked slowly at you. 

Though your smile faded once you saw your mother entering the mounting dock. As she smiled somberly upon you, you looked away from her defiantly. “Must I go?” You asked, your gentle tone thinly veiled your anger.

She stepped closer to you, “I was once in your position myself. The idea of marriage itself once greatly disagreed with me.” She said with a tilt of her head, attempting to console you one last time. 

You turned to her, “Then why send me off?” you said in a huff.

With a huff in return your mother began her lecture, “The Riverlands would be an invaluable asset in this war. Deamon has already complicated our position there enough.” Her passion rose in her voice, and her eyes narrowed, “A marriage to a respected house would strengthen our support. But I do not wish to pick a suitor for you, a luxury that I was not granted.” She sighed, letting go of her anger. Understanding your position. “Marriage is partnership. Find someone who you can lean on, someone who has the humility to lean on you. As I did with your father.” She said softly.

You sighed, stepping closer to her. “No one will want me. It will be a great jest to them.” You whispered to her. 

Your mother looked upon you with confusion, “Why would you-”

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke, muña.  Nyke gīmigon iksan kostōba.  Āzma hen Perzys Ānogār. Eman jorrāelagon syt ziry, yn issa gīda naejot mirre iksan daor āzma hen lopor se embar.” “Look at me,  Mother. I know I am strong. Born of fire and blood, yes. And despite my love for it, it is clear to all I am not born of salt and sea.” You spoke in High Valyrian in an attempt to hide your words from outsiders. 

Your mother looked around paranoid that there might be ears around. She turned to you, holding your cheek in your hand, “Emā se ānogar hen uēpa Valyria isse aōha ānogar.  Iksā iā zaldrīzes kipagīros.  Dārilaros hen sīkuda Dārȳti.  Dārilaros naejot Driftmārki.  Iksā iā Targārien.  Konīr iksis daor iā lentor bona ivestragon daor.” “You have the blood of old Valyria in your veins. You are a dragon rider. Princess of the seven kingdoms. Heir to Driftmark. You are a Targaryen. There is not a house that could refuse you.” She said with hard eyes and a strong conviction in her voice. Attempting to convince you of your own importance desperately. 

You sighed, looking down. “Lī vali jaelagon nyke syt ñuha ānogar se daorun tolī.  Jaelan naejot jorrāelagon se sagon jorrāelatan.” “Those men want me for my blood and nothing more. I want to love and be loved.” You said, the sadness in you grew, and Silverwing let out a small whine as she felt it too.

Your mother looked upon you sweetly, seeing so much of herself in you. She ran her hand along the length of your hair, “Nyke nykēla iksin daor biare naejot sagon wed naejot aōha kepa.  Yn isse jēda kesā ūndegon, hēnka.  Hae nyke se aōha kepa gōntan. Se riñar kessa sagon aōha rovaja biarves.  Kesā dohaeragon aōha gaomilaksir lēda rōvēgrie rigle.  Mazverdagon bisa ojūdan syt aōha ānogar.” “I myself was not happy to be wed to your father. But in time you will find commonality. As I and your father did. And children will be your greatest happiness. You will serve your duty with great honor. Make this sacrifice for your house.” Her last words were the words of a ruler, not a mother. But you understood her position well enough.

You look towards Silverwing, who’s loving eyes look upon you. 

You thought for a moment, even if you married a man you would never be able to take you away from your dragon. And with your dragon, you’d always be free. 

You let out one last defiant huff, “What if they are all old and terrible?” You asked like a child.

Your mother sharply exhaled through her nose as she smirked at your attitude. “Fly safely, sweet girl.” She said as she kissed your brow before leaving you to fly. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As you flew over the Riverlands, you approached the large plot of land that the good Lords of Riverland picked for you to receive suitors. You could see the crowds of men like ants below you. 

Part of you wanted to command Silverwing to burn them all, the other half of you wanted to keep flying and not look back. However neither part could hold sway in this. If you wanted revenge for Luke, or Rhaenys, you would need to play your role no matter how unpleasant it may be. 

As you landed, the men attempted to remain calm and composed. However as Silverwing’s weight shook the ground, and her roar crackled through the air, the men took cautious steps backwards and tried to hold their gasps to themselves. You smirked to yourself as you dismounted.

“You are late, Princess.” Ser Lorent, a member of your mothers Queens Guard said to you.

You bit down on the finger of your leather gloves as you pulled them off, “Well then we’d ought to proceed in haste.” You said with a mischievous smile. 

“Introducing, Princess (Y/N). Trueborn daughter of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Leanor Velaryon. Heir to Driftmark, the future Lady of the tides and master of ships.” Ser Lorent announced as you sat at the makeshift throne they’d created for you. 

And so the vieding began. One Lord after another, giving you the same speech of how honorable their house is, and how loyal they have always been to your mothers inheritance. Soon your patience was running thinner, and thinner. 

It was only when an elderly man approached, and began speaking to his worth for your hand. You scoffed to yourself as he did so shamelessly, “My Princess, If chosen I will ensure your safety-”

You interrupted him, “Tell me Lord Chambers, how do you plan on protecting me when you are older than my own Grandsire?” The old man stared at you, his mouth agape as the other men began to snicker, “It is a reasonable question.” You finished. 

“My Princess,” Ser Lorent said under his breathe in annoyance, 

“I mislike old men who think themselves worthy of any woman.” You said to him quietly. 

He sighed “Next,” Ser Lorent called out in a huff.

As you saw the next plain faced boy walking towards the front of the line you turned back to the knight beside you, “Ser Lorent, I am quite tired and quite famished. As is Silverwing.” you said in a desperate attempt to finish this marital tour early. 

As you stood from your seat, Silverwing cried out and the thunder in the sky rang. Clouds gathered over the Riverlands, and the winds began to shift. However you were undeterred, paying no mind to it, you continued to walk towards Silverwing who was already laying close to the ground for you to mount her. 

Ser Lorent however came towards you, grabbing your arm gently. “A storm approaches,” Ser Lorent warned you. 

You looked upon the sky, ready to crack at any moment. But then shaking your head and then resuming your strides towards your beast. “Silverwing has seen worse.” 

“I do not think that is wise, my Princess. Silverwing has seen worse in flight but you have not. You lack the experience.” He called out over the sky’s loud rumbles. 

He spoke truly, and it frustrated you. You spun around looking towards him, “Well what would you have me do?” 

Ser Lorent looked behind him, raising his hand presenting the men that stood there, “We've the Lords of this Land here, they’d be more than honored to offer bread and milk to a Princess.” 

You were not at all thrilled by the idea of it. Though as the sky began to crack, and the water fell from the heavens above you, you’d no choice. “What of Silverwing?”

Ser Lorent was much more concerned with your own well being than that of a dragon, one that could manage fine on its own. “Leave the beast for the night-”

You shook your head, and retorted quickly, “I will not leave Silverwing. She’s mine.” You said with strong conviction. 

He huffed, growing more frustrated by your stubbornness. “My Princess, the only place with large enough land to accommodate such a beast would be the Raventree Hall.” 

“Who occupies it?” You nearly shouted over the growing rain, 

“The Blackwoods, my Princess.” Ser Lorent shouted back, loud enough for the Blackwoods to hear it. 

Lord Blackwood almost appeared out of thin air as he approached you with his seven sons. The sight made you exhausted at the idea of being under a roof with them, “We’d be most grateful if you and your dragon accept our guest right, my Princess.” You thought of it for a moment, but with no choice you nodded hesitantly, The Lord looked giddy like a child as he turned to his nephew behind him, “Benjicot give the Princess your cloak for Gods sake.” 

The lad came to you, holding a black and red cloak. He did not look you in the eye but stared at the ground as he approached you. Once he stood face to face with you, he looked down into your eyes. You felt a shiver down your spine, surely it was due to the frightful weather. He gently placed the cloak upon your shoulders before giving you a slight respectful nod, “My Princess.”

You looked at him with curious eyes, “I thank you.” You said to him, earnestly. 

“Fly your beast to the fields of RavenTree, our men will take care of you.” Lord Blackwood shouted. 

You nodded, then mounted Silverwing, “Rȳbās, dokimarvose, Silverwing! sagon gīda, rȳbagon, dohaerās, sōvēs!” “Focus, pay attention, Silverwing! Be calm, listen, obey, fly!” You shouted over the thundering rains now roaring through the skies, commanding your beast. To which she as always eagerly obeyed. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

In Raventree you sat at the head of a large dinner table with the rest of the Blackwoods. You awkwardly picked at the food that was being served to you on the finest plates they owned. All the while Lord Blackwood went on and on about their houses' histories. All that you could stand but your patience was tested when the Lord Black wood began to say… “It would of course be a great honor, the highest honor, for the Princess to consider one of our sons-”

Benjicot placed his fork down loudly, as he kept his head low looking over to his uncle, “Uncle, I am sure the Princess would rather eat.” It was as if he could tell the question offended you.

You looked at the dark haired man sitting beside you. His eyes met yours for only a moment before he looked away. You wanted to thank him, but could tell his comment only upset his uncle.

Your eyes stayed on Ben as you said, “I thank you-” Before turning your head to his uncle, “for your hospitality. And I thank you for your… proposals.” You said politely, attempting to hide your discomfort.

Lord Blackwells attention then again turning back to you smiled as he leaned forward at the other end of the table, "I once vied for your mother, the Queen Rhaenyra's hand, before she wed Ser Laenor. I always liked her spirit. She had the true blood of the dragon. Just as I see it in you.” He said with a smile, you suspected it was to be a compliment but it only made you feel dirty.

“Uncle.” Benjicot said under his breath, glaring at his uncle. You could feel the hostility emanating off of him. 

His uncle glared back at him, and rather than allow an altercation to take place you interjected. 

“Your house honors me, my Lord. I thank you, and the crown shall not forget your service. However, it has been a long day, and I spent many hours on dragon back. I should bid you all a pleasant night.” 

The Lord bowed his head, “Of course, my Princess.” He turned to a handmaiden who stood behind him holding a large bottle of their wine. “Jeyne, take the Princess (Y/N) to her chambers.” 

As you followed the handmaiden to your chambers, your loyal knight Ser Lorent followed closely behind you. “Who are you considering, my Princess?” He asked closely to your ear. 

You breathed a sigh of relief allowing your snarky personality to resurface, “I am considering many things. None of them are any of those men we saw today.” 

You reminded Ser Lorent of the most annoying parts of your mother when she was young. He huffed, “If you do not select a suitor, my Princess… The Riverlands-”

“Would now surely turn their cloaks, I know it.” As you reached your chambers, you turned to him, “Allow me to sleep. I’ll have an answer on the Marrow.” You conceded. 

He nodded somberly, “Goodnight, my Princess.” He said before leaving.

You did not sleep however. Your mind was restless. Of all the men you saw today, none offered you anything. None of them seemed to have any humility. Nor did any excite you. You stared out the window of your chambers, watching Silverwing lay in the fields of Raventree. She sighed restlessly, just as you did. You hated leaving her in such weather, but as the rains let up, you grabbed the cloak the blackwood nephew offered you. 

And so you snuck out of your chambers, so kindly given to you by the Blackwoods. With the intention of riding Silverwing back home and begging your mothers forgiveness and pray she doesn’t decide on a match for you.

However as you tread through the wet grass and mud towards your gorgeous beast. You unexpectedly were confronted with a rowdy group of Blackwood boys drinking from two large jugs of ale. You stopped in your tracks and stared at them with wide eyes, to which they returned the same look of shock when they saw you. Their loud speaking, laughing, and singing came to a stop once they saw you.

“My Lady!” One of the boys said as he hid the jug of ale behind his back.

The one beside him smacked the back of his head, “She’s not a lady, she’s a princess!” The other loudly corrected. 

You raised your hands up, “Sh!” You commanded, not wanting Ser Lorent to hear.

The eldest looking one began to stammer, “Princess, I- I apologize we thought you were abed.” 

You waved your hand in dismissal, “It’s quite alright.” You wrapped yourself in the cloak for warmth,  “It’s your home.” The boys looked at you with confusion. They did not want to question a princess but they really had no idea what you were doing out in the fields after such a storm. “I could not find sleep. So I took to a walk.” It technically was not a lie. 

The boys looked at you in silence, unsure of what to say or do. Until the younger boy revealing his jug of ale from behind his back, “We’ve ale-” 

The boy offered you, but soon a familiar voice rang out within the group of lads. “A Princess does not drink our shit ale.” Benjicot said as he stepped forward. 

You however did not need your honor defended against a drink. A drink you so badly needed, “I’ll drink it.” You said stepping forward and grabbing the jug and taking a swig. 

And soon enough you were as tipsy as the rest of the lads, and walking along the fields of the Blackwood land. You found yourself actually enjoying yourself. The boys were kind, and amused you. In fact you couldn’t think of the last time you’d laughed. 

The boys gasped as they saw your large beast fly across the sky. Her form covers the light of the moon for a moment. 

You smiled as you looked upon her, “Silverwing. She bonded with me when I was a girl the age of ten and two.” 

“Can we ride on it?” The younger blackwood boy asked innocently. 

“Don’t be daft, the beast would eat you alive!” The eldest boy said, scolding his younger brother. 

Amused you smiled as you pasted the jug of ale back. This time Benjicot took it from you. His hand gently brushed against your own. When his warm skin touched your own, you felt a chill. As if you’d never been touched before. You looked into his eyes. He didn’t seem so hard, his gaze was warm. You didn’t want to look away, and you didn’t want to move your hand. And from his stare you could tell neither did he. Until his gaze was ripped from you as six other men approached from down a tall hill.

Ben took the jug of ale from your hands, “Bracken cunts.” he grumbled  as he stepped in front of you, “Take the Princess back to Raventree Hall.” He ordered as he glared at the men approaching you. Though none dared to touch you. 

“Fitting!” One of the men in yellow said, “A bastard belongs with a Blackwood.“ They laughed. 

“What did you say?” Ben hissed, attempting to step towards them but one of the other blackwood boys held him back.

The man in yellow pointed at you, “The bastard’s dragon ate five Bracken cows.” He shouted.

Before Ben pushed his cousin off of him but before he could do or say anything else, you spoke up, “I would see to it that your house was given their worth doubled for your trouble. But your words are treasonous and above all a great insult to my mother the Queen.” You spoke calmly but your tone was dark and deep.

The Bracken stifled a laugh, stepping closer to you, “Your false Queen mother is a whore. What Velaryon has hair like that?” 

Benjicot stepped closer to the Bracken, blocking his path to you, “You wouldn’t dare.” He said, holding onto the hilt of his dagger. Ready to take the Brackens tongue for his words.

As your heartbeat rose, a large thud shook the ground beneath your feet. Silence that followed rang loudly. But not as loudly as the rumble of a heavy growl Silverwing made as the large ghastly beast began crawling down the tall hill. She began to open her mouth, with the heat and light of fire emanating from it. 

“Daor! Likiri, gaomagon daor nābēmagon, Silverwing!” “Be Calm, do not attack, Silverwing!” You commanded, and she obeyed. She let out a sigh, and a whine, eager to protect her rider. 

“Jikagon, kisalbar va tolī nuspes.” “Go, feast on more cows.” Your command pleased her well enough as she took to the sky once more. The flap of her wings and a large gust of wind pushed some of the Brackens into the mud. 

Your eyes went back down to the Brackens, “I just saved your very life. You might wish to thank me, by leaving my presence.” The men scattered, running back over the hill. 

Benjicot turned back to you, “I’ll see you to your chamber.” He said with a huff as he walked past you. 

As you followed the lads back, they were silent, aside from the youngest Blackwood making a few comments of how exciting it was to see a dragon up close. To which his older brother smacked the back of their head. 

Once Benjicot and you reached the door to your chamber, he stood there for a moment, trying his hardest not to look at you. As if he were restraining himself from something. 

“I enjoyed myself tonight. You have a charming family.” You said attempting to ease the awkward silence. 

His eyes finally found yours, unable to resist your gaze any longer. As you looked up at him, his dark hair messied from the night wind. His nose was slightly crooked no doubt from another fight. Something he seemed to enjoy. You found his temper to light a heat within your body. As did his gaze. It was lustful and warm. 

Your eyes fixated on his lips, he’d a small scar from his top lip to his nose. Perhaps it was from when he was a babe, or again, another fight. You didn’t know but wanted to, it was strange you had no interest in any man other than ogling at the nice looking ones from time to time. But you never had any interest in them as persons.

As your eyes still lingered on his lips. You looked back into his eyes, to see he himself was fixated on your own lips. He began to lean in closer to you, and you began to lean in closer to him. 

But he regained his control over himself, he bit his lower lip in restraint. Shutting his eyes, and swifting walking away. Leaving you in the hall. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You did not return to your room. No. 

You went back to the fields. You felt as though you were proven right. No man would want you. You were a bastard and the subject of many jokes amongst the highborns. Why would he want you? 

Your emotion took hold of you, regrettably. It was apparent as Silverwing began to crawl towards you, whining as she felt your pain. You loved your bond but hated that it would impact her in such a way.

So you embraced her, running your hand against her scales as you sang softly to her. “Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis. Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis, Se gēlȳn irūdaks, Ānogrose, Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa, letagon, Aōt vāedan, Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī.” “Fire breather, Winged leader, But two heads, To a third sing. From my voice: The fires have spoken, And the price has been paid, With blood magic, With words of flame, With clear eyes, To bind the three, To you I sing, As one we gather, And with three heads, We shall fly as we were destined Beautifully, freely.” She purred and chirped at your song, calming her just as you knew it would. 

You smiled as she calmed, and in turn you felt peace as well. Until-

A familiar voice beckoned out “Your song is quite nice, your voice is beautiful.” You turned around to see Ben. You felt some anger towards him. But refused to allow him to think that you would care.

You nodded, “Thank you.” 

“What does it mean?” He asked gently, much more gently than he spoke to any other person that day.

You looked at him with curiosity, “It’s a song we sing to claim them. Though I find it calms her.” You looked away from him coldy, and returned to pet her. 

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to approach you, “I apologize for being… cold earlier. It was beneath me and you’d not deserve such treatment.” He said cautiously, you could tell he wished to say more but did not. He stepped towards you, “What are you doing here?”

You looked at him once more, your spirits softening for some reason. Strange as apologies never seemed to work on you. You sighed, “Debating whether I should flee to Pentos now that the skies are clear, or marry the oldest man who vied today.” 

“You said he was older than your grandsire.” He said, holding in a laugh at the memory of your insult. 

You smirked at him, “Well hopefully they’d not live long enough to consummate the marriage.”

He bit his tongue as he smirked back at you, “You don’t talk like a Princess.” He shook his head. 

You turned to face him as you stepped away from Silverwing, “Oh! You’ve met many?” You teased as you walked closer to him, “What are you doing here?”

His smile faded, and his eyes hardened, “Those cravens cannot speak to a princess-to you as he did. They were undeserving of your mercy.” He said angrily. 

You smirked and walked closer towards him, “Rivermen are made of mud, stubborn.” 

Davos sat down on the ground in a huff, “I should beat that Bracken cunt into the mud.” he said as he bit on his knuckles, still fuming. 

You however still found it not only amusing but excites your body, “I dare you.” you said with a mischievous grin, holding back a giggle.

Davos looked at you with wild eyes, blood lust perhaps. It made a shiver run down your spine as he stood and began to march back to the fields. As he was gritting through his teeth, and storming up to the Brackens still on the field. You followed him giddy, practically skipping behind him. 

As he marched over the tall hill, he could see the Bracken that had levied insult to your parentage earlier that night. He was stacking wood, and unluckily for him, alone. 

“Oi!” Davos yelled as he and you approached the Bracken. 

The fight was hardly fair. Not that Ben was larger or even stronger than the Bracken. But the way he fought was brutal and savage. The Bracken could not keep up with him. In the end the Bracken was a bloody, whimpering mess. And Ben was bloody, and dirtied from the mud. 

As he got off the Bracken, he was panting from exhaustion, but once his eyes fell back onto you, his gaze softened. 

It grew a heat in your body. As well as a guilt. You walked up to him in hast, your eyes clouded by lust. You grabbed his face into your hands and kissed him deeply. His hand found your jaw, attempting to pull you deeper into the kiss as if it were possible. 

Afterwards, you and Ben practically dragged one another back to Raventree and more specifically back to your chambers.

You began to disrobe. Beginning with the cloak he’d given you earlier that day. “I think I might be a poor influence on you, My Lord.” You said as you threw the cloak onto the bed.

“Or I you.” He said as his eyes roamed your form lustfully. 

You kicked your muddied shoes off, “Mayhaps both.” You began to untie the laces of your gown, “Still… Tonight was anything but dull.” You were left in your shift and small clothes. “Even when you are drunk, you fight very well.” You said as you crawled onto your bed.

Ben walked up to the end of your bed, looking down upon you with undignified thoughts, “Ah, well, those bracken swines couldn’t fight a babe.” He rasped, “I shouldn’t be swearing in front of a Lady, a princess no less.” He said as he cupped your cheek as you kneeled on the bed in front of him.

“I like it.” You said as you took his hand, looking at his bloodied knuckles, “Besides, I am hardly a lady.”

He shook his head with a soft smile, “No, you could be my Lady.” You looked up at him, somehow surprised by his words, “Your days would be easy and nights safe, not that you’d need it.” He rubbed your knuckles with his thumb.

Humility, was that what your mother spoke of? A man who could tell when his lady held her own?

“You did not vie for my hand today in the woods. But you do now, here in my chamber.” It was partially a jest, and partially not. You did not wish to be bedded and discarded. You did not want another jest to be made of you. 

His eyes darkened again, “It is an insult to you. To have each man from their houses come to bid on your hand. As if you’re a mare to breed.” He shook his head in disgust.

You smiled softly at him, “You’re unlike other men.” 

“In what way?” He asked earnestly. 

“You’re not an imbecile who thinks himself entitled to me simply because you’ve a cock.” You said with a smirk, and he chuckled softly at your vulgar words. 

He shook his head, “You owe me nothing. However I must ask of you one thing.” He said softly.

“What would that be?” You asked, looking up into his warm eyes.

He took your face into both of his hands, “All I ask is all of you, forever. Claim to your hand in marriage.” 

You felt time slow, as if it stopped just for you both. 

You’d ogled knights fighting in tourneys, or sparring in the yards. You’d met hundreds of Lords and can recall many you found comely. But none of them made you feel this way. None made your body weaken, and shake. None made your heart quicken. None made heat splash across your cheeks by their gaze alone. 

You never thought you’d accept a marriage by a man you’d only met meer hours ago. But he didn’t feel that way. He felt as though he’d been yours a lifetime, and you his.

‘that must be the ale’ you thought. And even if it was, which it wasn’t, Out of all the men you’d seen today he would have been your pick. 

You nodded, “You have it.”

You stood on your knees on the end of your bed. Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle kiss. He sucked gently on your plush lower lip, sweetly and slowly. His hands grasped your hips tightly. Leaving dirtied and bloody hand prints on your shift.

“We shouldn’t, I am bloodied, dirty,” He said reluctantly. 

You looked into his eyes, heavy with lust, “Then you should stop touching me with your eyes.” You smirked, and he smirked back at you, his eyes still running over your form, “Besides, I like it.” You said into his lips. 

He kissed you passionately, and then bit your lip making you wet. You whimpered as you pulled away, slightly surprised by his boldness. “You are a bad influence, my lady.” He leaned his forehead against your own, and looked into your eyes deviously. 

“Your lady?” You teased

“My Princess- my queen.” He said in a whisper as he rubbed his nose against yours.

“Call me my name,” You said with a smirk as your eyes stared at his lips.

“(Y/N)” He smiled as he stared at your lips as well. “My (Y/N),” He whispered into your lips. Kissing you again, passionately. 

His hands gripped your plush sides, running them up and down your back, running them through your hair, and soon enough he let go of any restraint as he ran his hand down your front, between your breasts, over your stomach, and between your thighs. You let out a small gasp as you felt his fingers move over your clothed cunt. 

“You ever had a man touch you like this?” He rasped into your lips, “It’s alright if ye have, I just want to know how careful I got to be.” He whispered.

You shook your head, “Only my own.” you whispered back.

“I’ll be careful,” He said as he placed his palm cupping your jaw, and his fingers tangled in your hair.

You shook your head again, this time with more conviction, “Don’t be.” You said slightly louder. His eyes stared into yours, as he slipped his hand into your small clothes. Slipping his fingers into your warmth. You moaned softly, and your face contorted to the pleasure. He relished in it. Watching you take the pleasure he was giving you. Loving your sounds more than he thought he ever could. “You feel like silk… Velvet…” He whispered into your lips, his mouth grazing over yours. It was as if he was breathing in each of your moans. 

You grabbed a hold of a handful of his dark hair, Pressing his forehead into yours even more, “That feels… good.” You whined, “So good.” You said as he began to kiss your neck. 

“You smell like dragon fire.” He said as he inhaled your scent, as if it were intoxicating. His fingers were still toying with your cunt.

He was doing such a good job, you turned your head to whisper into his ear, “You want to ride a dragon?” You asked mischievously with a smirk.

His face left your neck, looking into your eyes with devotion, “Only one.” 

You bit your lip looking at him, You stifled a laugh. “Do the biting again, maybe I’ll let you.” 

And so he did. He kissed you as if he were a starved man. Biting your lip as you commanded. His fingers motions quickened. He used two fingers to pump in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit. 

He sloppily kissed you, from your lips, to the side of your mouth, to your jaw, and finally your neck. Breathing in your scent as he bit and sucked at the sensitive skin of your throat. The pleasure was so great, you felt yourself clenching around his fingers. 

Your moans got louder, but he’d not have anyone other than him hearing them. Not let anyone know you, an unwed noble lady, were doing such an indecent act. So he pressed his mouth to yours, practically breathing in your moans to hide them. 

You clenched around his fingers tightly as you came. You shook and shuttered as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

He continued to pulse his fingers into you, helping you ride out your climax, until you were resting your head on his shoulder.  A whimpering and panting mess, like the Bracken. 

As he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, he looked at his wet fingers, taking them into his mouth. 

You looked at him with exhausted half lidded eyes, “Vulgar.” you said, as if it didn’t make your cunt hungry for more. 

“Ah, but you don’t taste vulgar at all.” He said as he held you closer, “You taste sweet like wine.” You said nothing, just looked at him with confusion and a smirk, “You don’t believe me?” He asked as he pressed his lips against yours, and pushed his tongue into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and he was right, you did taste sweet. 

“Mphmm…” You moaned as your tongues dances together. 

Your hand found the tenting bulge in his breeches, you palmed it excitedly, wanting more. 

He begrudgingly took your wrist, “I cannot-” He said shutting his eyes, as if looking at you would cause him to break. “We may be drunk, I may be the hardest I’ve ever been, and you the most beautiful woman I've seen… But I cannot.” He said, attempting to convince himself. 

“You do not want to?” You asked sweetly. 

His eyes went wide at your question, and brows narrowed. “I want to, Gods know that I have wanted to sense I saw you ride that beast into the Riverlands. I thought that I would be able to, but I’ll not sully you without the Gods knowing I’m yours.” He spoke earnestly. 

You held in a laugh, “I’d not take you for a pious man.” 

You held your face in his hands, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the realm. “I’m not. But you're sacred to me, I don’t know why.” He shook his head. 

You smiled softly, “Then take this,” You said as you pulled off your small damp small clothes, “something for you to worship.” You with a cheek grin. 

He bit his tongue as he grinned at you. He grabbed hold of your small clothes, shoved them into his breeches for later. 

He gave you a final kiss before leaving you for the night. 

Finally, you found sleep. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morn you began to prepare for your flight back home. 

As you put your leather riding gloves on, you looked out to see the members of House Blackwood coming to bid you farewell. Ben following behind, smiling at you.

Lord Blackwood approached you, “My Princess, I do not wish to pester you. However, have you considered perhaps a member of House Blackwood?” He began to ask once again. 

You however now had an answer, and delivered it quickly. “The Blackwoods are an ancient house. Once ruled as kings of the Riverlands.” You smiled, “It’d be a great honor.” 

Ser Lorent, who was reading his horse, could not believe his ears that you’d made such a decision so quickly. 

Lord Blackwood was eliated and attempted to remain composed. “You honor us greatly, Princess.” He let out a breathe to calm himself, smiling widely, “Perhaps our eldest son Samwell-”

“Benjicot.” You interrupted. “If he is willing of course. We are the same age, I feel it will make an equal union.” You explained. 

However he was not about to deny you, nor question your decision. As long as he’d the last name Blackwood that was all that mattered. “Very wise, my Princess. Fly safely, we shall see one another again.” He smiled and you smiled back with a nod. 

As he left you, Benjicot approached you, as he did his uncle passed him. Patting him on the back excitedly which only annoyed and embarrassed him. 

“Princess,” He bowed his head to you, keeping formalities in front of the knights of your mother. He held out a scroll of parchment. 

You took the scroll, looking at the wax seal of the sigil of house Blackwood. “What is this?” You asked softly. 

“A written proposal of marriage.” He said, holding in an eager smile. “Something to show to your mother. I wish for her to understand my intentions.” He said earnestly. 

“I should return this to you before I leave.” You said as you handed him his cloak that he’d given you the day prior.

He shook his head, “Keep it.” He said, stepping closer to you. “You’ll have something of mine, and I something of yours.” He said in a hushed whisper. You smiled softly, and Silverwing purred.

You looked at her, petting her side gently, “She likes you, I think.” 

“I should hope so.” He said, intimidated by the large beast. You smirked and giggled softly, “I shall write to you.” He said as you mounted Silverwing. 

“I would like that.” You said looking down upon him, hooking yourself into your saddle. “Geros ilas, ēva nyke ūndegon ao arlī.” You said to him sweetly.

“What does that mean?” He asked, 

You smirked down at him, “Perhaps one day I will teach you.” 

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[st0rmyskies]

What Your Favorite Link Says About You

A.k.a. The Links as tarot cards/your rising sign/your blood type.

Time

You're likely an older Zelda fan. Ibuprofen has become a food group for you. Anyone who thinks OoT isn't the greatest Zelda game has you clutching your pearls and tutting. Kids these days don't know how good they have it.

You are a person to whom young people come for advice, either in your career or in life in general. You're happy to give it, especially because you love to help, but on the inside you're silently screaming, What?? Why me???

You may have trouble sleeping through the night. Even if it's not every night, there are some where you just can't turn your brain off and worries or worst-case scenarios just keep playing and replaying ad nauseaum.

You enjoy time in solitude to appreciate the beauty of nature. I bet you know how to braid a mean daisy crown.

“The flow of time is always cruel...” - Some event in your life took your innocence from you, perhaps much too early. You grew up quickly because of it.

Legend

Either you had a crush on the emo kid in high school or you were the emo kid in high school.

You might be jaded by the world, but you still have a solid work ethic and a soft heart despite it all. Even if you hide it all beneath a healthy layer of sass.

You possess a multitude of skills, not all of which are related. Anytime a friend needs a piece of clothing mended or a picture frame hung on the wall or a leak in a faucet addressed, you have the tools and the willingness to help.

Either you have a history of moving frequently when you were young, or you have a restless spirit. You may never quite feel 'at home' in any given place.

"But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end." - You’ve suffered a meaningful loss in your life and you have a hard time opening up again because of it. 

Hyrule

You root for the underdog, or perhaps you are the underdog. Any of those "against all odds" stories just hit you square in the chest.

Somewhat quiet by nature, you do vital work behind the scenes but you aren't the type to seek out a leadership position. Leave the limelight to somebody else, please.

You might sell yourself short when it comes to your skills and abilities, but you should believe in yourself, man! You can do it!!

You have a capricious streak in you that rears its head now and again. That smile can look sharp and devilish in the right light.

"It's dangerous to go alone!" - You either already have or are destined to find 'that one person' with whom you can open up and truly be yourself. 

Twilight

I'm willing to put money on the fact that Twilight Princess was your first Zelda game.

You have a strong sense of justice and get really bent out of shape when you encounter unfairness or flaw in the system, whatever that may be. You might be considered an outsider in some way because of this.

You're the friend who scoops spiders up in a cup and sets them outside. Live and let live.

You were the 'wolf kid' in middle school. Come on, those amazing tie dye shirts? Wolf Woman? Julie of the Wolves?? Even if you kept it inside, it was there in some way.

"Your current power would disgrace the proud green of the hero's tunic you wear." - You put a lot of stock in the opinions of others and hold yourself to a higher standard because of it. Sometimes that standard isn't achievable, though, so try to be kind to yourself. 

Sky

You, my friend, have a soft heart. You're generally a happy-go-lucky sort of person. You're likely to make excuses for those who've been mean to you in the past and come out as friends on the other side.

You're crafty, or at the very least good with your hands. You're the type to give someone a handmade gift rather than go buy something for them for their birthday, a holiday, etc.

You have a strong affinity for your friends. If anything bad were to happen to them, you'd turn violent at the drop of a hat.

You may have some level of chronic illness that affects you. Although you might do things in a different way or at your own pace, though, you still come out on top.

"You fight like no man or demon I have ever known." - You have the capability for great things. World-changing sorts of things. Don't give up!

Wild

You're some flavor of neurodivergent, if I had to guess I'd say ADHD. You have 42 tabs open in your brain at any given time and you have no idea which one the music is coming from.

You're an incredibly creative person, although you might have trouble finishing tasks/works-in-progress. Doesn't mean you didn't learn something along the way!

Rigid guidelines or deadlines stress you out. You'd rather be given a goal and decide for yourself when and how to get there. When you do have a deadline, you're a bit of a procrastinator.

Sometimes you don’t get the 'right' way to do things, but you carve your own path--although sometimes it's unorthodox--and get there in your own time.

"Courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten." - In spite of how your life changes you, for better or for worse, you have a driving inspiration or ethic or vocation that moves you forward at all costs.

Warriors

Those who don't know you well tend to boil you down to one or two trite traits. In reality, you contain multitudes. Most people couldn't handle all of you, not that they deserve to know even part of you.

You tend to lay it on thick--be that your charm, attitude, or whatever else your social shield might be--because you're hiding some deeper secret or insecurity at your core.

You're the mom friend or the planner in your group, or perhaps you're the oldest child. You’ll pass on an authority role if and when you can, but likely you’re still involved in some supervisory capacity in a given situation. 

You kill spiders with fire. Show NO mercy.

"You dare raise the blade of evil's bane to me? So be it. Hyrule's blood will be on your hands." - You have strong convictions and you aren't afraid to take risks, major risks, to do what you know to be right.

Four

Babe, if you ain't short, you've got short person energy. You scare me a little bit tbh.

You were praised for not being a problem child growing up, or for being very responsible at a young age.

You have a vivid imagination! You may have had an imaginary friend as a child or lived in your own little world altogether. I bet your notebook pages were strewn with little doodles in school.

You're a lover of information. If you could choose between an afternoon at the library or a movie matinee, it would be the former.

"Hanging around with you fools is dangerous for my health." - You're the snark friend, aren't you.  

Wind

You are extroverted to a fault. You need the company of others to recharge that social battery. The quintessential golden retriever friend.

You had active involvement in the music and theatre department. I'd be surprised if you weren't in at least one show in high school.

Having adventures is where it's at! You're a big fan of travel, either cross-country road trips or international flights. You could happily live out of a suitcase.

You tend to make friends easily wherever you go. If everyone in this classroom/workplace/bar doesn't know your name already, they will pretty quick.

"I have been waiting for you, boy... Do not betray my expectations.” - Against all odds, you've proven yourself to be worthy of great things. Screw what fate has in store! You're the type to take your own destiny by the 'nads.

[evilminji]

Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

:O

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[selkiewife]

Rhaenyra and Aemma

I think it's interesting we see this exchange from Alicent and Rhaenyra:

ALICENT: You're worried your father is about to overshadow you with a son. RHAENYRA: I only worry for my mother. I hope for my father that he gets a son. As long as I can recall, it's all he's wanted.

And then in the next scene we hear from Aemma:

AEMMA: Rhaenyra has already declared that she is to have a sister. VISERYS: Really? AEMMA: She even named her. VISERYS: Dare I ask? AEMMA: Visenya. She chose a dragon's egg for the cradle that she said reminded her of Vhagar.

At first I thought that Rhaenyra was hiding her true desire from Alicent for us to hear the truth from her mother. And if it were just that- no shade AT ALL. I mean, why not have ambition? Why not want to be heir? Why not want to rule?

But I do think that Rhaenyra's emotions about being heir are more related to being loved and being valued by her parents. Her entire life she has not been enough- she has seen her mother go through all of these tragic stillbirths as a child and of course she would come to the conclusion that her mother's pain and her father's insistence on a son means that she is not enough. So there is already some resentment about the idea of a brother. But I don't think it's so much that, as Alicent says, she is frightened of the son overshadowing her. It is more that she is hurt that the pursuit of a male heir has been overshadowing her for her entire life.

I do believe her when she said that she hopes her father gets a son though- even though it hurts her, she would be happy for him I think. And it would be a relief that this painful pursuit of a male heir would be over for her mother. But then why does she declare that she is to have a sister?

I think that maybe it is to make Aemma feel less stressed honestly. We see how upset Aemma is when she talks to Viserys about the pressure she is under to produce a male heir:

AEMMA: The tourney to celebrate the firstborn son that we presently do not have. You do understand nothing will cause the babe to grow a cock if it does not already possess one?

And then after he tells her his dream again:

AEMMA: Born wearing a crown? Gods spare me, birth is unpleasant enough as it is. This is the last time, Viserys. I've lost one babe in the cradle, had two stillbirths, and two pregnancies ended well before their term. That's five in twice as many years. I know it is my duty to provide you an heir, and I'm sorry if I have failed you in that. I am. But I've mourned all the dead children I can.

This is so heartbreaking. Aemma is under so much pressure and has dealt with so much grief- and feels as though she failed Viserys and the realm. And so I think that Rhaenyra is trying to boost her mother's spirits and telling her that it will be wonderful if the baby turns out to be a girl. It goes deeper, I think, than Rhaenyra not wanting a boy to overshadow her. As I mentioned before, the quest for a boy has already overshadowed he and it is not as though she will be heir (or so she believes) even if the baby is a girl. Daemon is currently heir and I am sure Rhaenyra doesn't think that will change. I think she is telling her mom she is hoping for a girl so that her mother does not feel like she failed if the baby is a girl. I think she is acting out excitement and anticipation for a girl because she feels like she didn't have that for her own birth. She probably thinks that her birth was a disappointment for her father and her mother. Should the baby happen to be a sister this time, she doesn't want the her to come into the world as a disappointment like she did. She wants her sister to come into the world wanted and valued.

I think it makes sense that Rhaenyra would do this because we can see Rhaenyra's concern for her mother in their first (and last!) exchange:

RHAENYRA: Did you sleep? AEMMA: I slept. RHAENYRA: How long? AEMMA: I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra. RHAENYRA: Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you. AEMMA: You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm.

It's interesting that Aemma says "I don't need mothering," because her own mother, Daella Targaryen, died in childbirth (they don’t mention it in the show but it is in Fire and Blood.) So she would have grown up without mothering. It also struck me that while Aemma tries to mother Rhaenyra by giving her practical advice about “the order of things” for a woman in their world, Rhaenyra’s style of “mothering” Aemma is to point out how important she is and to ensure that she is being taken care of- and prioritizing her above the baby. It’s sad because Rhaenyra is essentially mothering her own mother in the way she wishes she was mothered. Rhaenyra wants to live in a world where, as Arya Stark said, “The woman is important too!” And it’s a glimpse of how she would have mothered her own stillborn daughter, Princess Visenya, or supported a sister if one had been born to her parents.

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: junhui + castle

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: you are my kingdom

pairing: crown prince!junhui x royalty!gn!reader

genre: historical royalty au, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers

word count: 1167

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994

The wind whistles through the castle, seeping in through under the heavy wooden doors, in through the windows that aren't quite sealed enough to keep away the small squeals of air. You hold your breath, trying to not make a sound, curling up even tighter in your spot in the wardrobe. 

"Y/N?" A voice singsongs, and you stiffen at the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor outside of the room. "Where are you?"

The door to the room you're in creaks open, and you try to pretend that you're not there.

It doesn't work, though, because not even two seconds later, the wardrobe door swings open and a man grins down at you, dark eyes glittering. 

"Aha! I found you!" Junhui declares, bright and happy, and you groan. He offers out a hand to help you to your feet, and you accept it, brushing off your clothes as you step out of the wardrobe. "Why are you even hiding in these rooms, anyway? You're never gonna need to come to the visitor's wing."

"Hey. We're playing hide and seek for me, you know. Because I don't know the layout if your castle. You never gave me boundaries!" you point out as Junhui leads you out of the room. "I wouldn't have known the boundaries, anyway. Because again. I don't know the layout of your castle."

Junhui laughs. "That's true. Well, anyway, now you know. These are the visitor wings, where we place the visiting royals or Lords who are coming to make relations with the King."

"Your father," you correct. 

"The King," Junhui says again, smiling. "They don't come say hi to my father just because he's my dad, do they? They come because he's the King."

You shrug. "Fair enough."

"Do you wanna play another round of hide and seek?" Junhui asks. "We have some time before some duties we need to carry out. And then Father wants us to eat with him for dinner."

"Yes! Let's play another round!" you say, clasping your hands together. "I think I almost have down the important parts of the castle."

Junhui grins, and takes your hand. "Okay, let's go back outside! I'll count to one hundred again."

As Junhui drags you through his castle, laughing as you stumble over uneven cobblestones and barrel past surprised servants, you can't help but marvel at how different he is from any other Crown Prince you've ever met. 

You can't help but marvel at how you're married to him. 

It hadn't been a love marriage, but rather an arranged one, as most marriages between kingdoms' royal children were. You had little say in who you were going to marry, and Crown Prince Junhui had been chosen for you purely because your father had wanted to maintain peace with a newly emerged kingdom that showed potential to one day be powerful. 

You were a pawn in the grand scheme of petty politics, to say the least. And you had hated it. 

You had done your utmost to sabotage the engagement, refused all of Junhui's courting gifts, fiercely denied meeting him right up until the day of your marriage, insisting that if your freedom to choose who you were going to marry was being taken from you, then you were going to fight for every other little bit of freedom that you could. 

The marriage had been a whistlestop affair, feeling more like a treaty signing with mildly more fanfare than the wedding it was meant to be, and that had infuriated you even more. 

You'd vowed to despise Prince Junhui and his kingdom forever, especially when you'd been whisked away from your home to go live in his castle with him. 

That is, until the day you walked in on Junhui in tears. 

It had been an accident, with you still unaware of the castle layout having only been there a week, and your maidservant was little help, a snooty young lady who seemed to despise the fact that their "attractive young prince was marrying a person who could hold no candle to his beauty". 

You were trying to search for the stables and had gotten hopelessly lost, wandering around the edges of the castle until you accidentally stumbled upon Junhui, hidden in the long grass in a dip in the stones where a turret met the straight walls, wiping his eyes. 

It had startled you, to see him look so sad and lost, and in that moment it struck you that Junhui was in the same position as you, that he was stuck in a loveless marriage just like you, and here you were, snapping at him and avoiding him and being utterly horrible when his life surely wasn't looking any nicer than yours. 

Silently, so as not to be noticed, you had stepped backwards and left him alone. And three days later, you sought him out in his chambers, hand outstretched and tentative smile on your face, asking for a truce. 

And that leads you to where you are now, many months later. Running through the castle. Playing hide and seek to help you understand the layout of how your new home works. 

"Your Highnesses!" the Head Knight yelps, practically throwing himself into the wall as the Crown Prince runs past, with you in tow. "Please be careful!"

"Sorry, Cheol!" Junhui yells back. "You're getting slow in your old age, though!" he adds, and you laugh. 

There's something so youthfully beautiful about Junhui's face when he smiles like that, you think, as he rounds the corner and throws open the doors that lead outside into the courtyard. 

He's so beautiful. 

"Oh my God," you gasp, leaning against the wall, panting. "I think I'm getting slow in my old age."

Junhui laughs again, dark eyes twinkling. "Nonsense. You're young and fit and beautiful, nothing at all like the old hag that is Seungcheol."

You stifle a grin, trying not to focus on how his words make your heart thump oddly in your chest. "Sure, sure. I bet he could still run you through in the blink of an eye, though."

"Oh, definitely," Junhui says instantly, and you laugh at the promptness of his answer. "But our Court Physician? Wow, Jeonghan is even more of a hag, I swear. He never leaves his room."

You tilt your head. "Jeonghan?"

Junhui's eyes widen. "I haven't taken you to meet Jeonghan, have I? Don't worry, we'll do that first thing tomorrow."

It makes your heart warm, really, the amount of effort Junhui is putting in to make you feel comfortable in his kingdom. Ever since that incident those several months ago, he's been the one friendly face you've found comfort in within this new place. He's been your friend. 

But as he beams at you before turning to face the wall, rambling on about how's he's going to count to 100 really slowly to allow you to choose the best hiding spot ever in this castle, a realisation hits you in the chest so hard that your eyes widen. 

Oh, no. 

"Junhui."

Junhui turns around, his face open, and he looks so beautiful that your heart thumps even harder and you're blurting out what you're thinking without even stopping to reconsider. 

"I think I'm in love with you."

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 3

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

I boarded the carriage with Roger and Alfons, who I was coming along with on the mission.

Kate: So what in the world is a “death party”?

(And…not to mention, how’s this related to it?)

Kate: Why was I forced into a dress?

After finishing breakfast this morning, I was taken to the dresser room where, for some reason, the maids dressed me up.

Roger: Hm? So you just came along without knowing anything? I don’t know how you managed to survive this long, lil’ lady. I’m impressed.

If you’re going to say it like that, then I have plenty to say back.

Kate: I thought that since I became your exclusive Fairytale Keeper, you’d be the one explaining everything to me!

Roger: Ah, is that what you thought? My bad. Then I’ll explain it to you in plenty of detail.

(You’re the one that brought me here without a word, so why the sudden courtesy…)

…At any rate, Roger explained the mission to me from the beginning.

There’s said to be a secret party held every night in a noble’s estate deep within the forest.

Rumors of fatal accidents there caught Her Majesty the Queen’s attention.

The rumors grew until eventually, the police made an attempt to go undercover.

—However, the team going undercover already had their identities marked and so were turned away by the guards at the door.

(Then, we’re currently going to a place where even the police can’t get in…?)

Kate: In that case, isn’t there a chance that we’d get turned away too…

Alfons: You don’t need to worry about that.

A card the size of a playing card twirled between Alfons’ long fingers.

Alfons: We already have an invitation. All that is left is for us to sneak in disguised as nobility.

Thin lips curled into a smirk.

Alfons: Ah, would you like to know where I got such an invitation?

Kate: …I’ll pass.

Crown had so many secrets that there’d be no end to it if you wanted to know them all.

Roger: That brings us back to the dress you’re wearing. You need to be accompanied by a woman for the party, which is why you’re all dressed up and coming with me.

(The reason’s simpler than I thought. Which leaves the problem in question…)

Kate: What happens at the secret party?

Roger: We suspect there’s a high chance they’re using some sort of drug at the party.

Kate: Using drugs at the party? Why?

Alfons: For “recreational” purposes.

Roger: Are you aware of the Pharmacy Act?

Kate: No, I’m not very familiar with things related to the law…

Roger: The UK enacted the Pharmacy Act to regulate the sale of drugs. However, the Pharmacy Act was only enacted several years ago. So it hasn’t taken full effect and people have been using loopholes to use drugs for fun. Under the Pharmacy Act, any potentially harmful substances are classified as poisons and the selling of them is regulated. Her Majesty the Queen’s pushing for making it a law and for public awareness. 

Kate: It’s worrying that there’s still a widespread use of illegal drugs despite the Pharmacy Act…

(The party we’re about to infiltrate is one of those places where drugs are used recreationally…)

Kate: To sum it up…our mission this time is to gather information rather than to condemn?

Roger: Yeah. Infiltrate, seize any drugs used, report. That’s it.

The scene of condemnation I witnessed the night I first met Crown.

I feel a little better knowing that I don’t have to see it this time.

Alfons: Nevertheless— 

(Hm?)

Alfons: You’re really dressed up for the part tonight. This night dress with suuuch a slit that exposes your legs…

Naughty fingers lift the skirt.

Kate: Wha…Please stop.

I rushed to hide myself, but even Roger casted a lewd gaze at the bare skin peeking between my hands.

Roger: I gotta agree. Even with the role as a noble, that’s too much service. You look really delicious.

Kate: Y-you said you wouldn’t touch me because you didn’t want to deal with the aftermath!

Roger: Just ‘cause I find the aftermath a pain doesn’t mean I don’t have sexual desires. Keeping leaving yourself exposed like that and I’m gonna eat you up, so watch out.

Kate: Huh?!

While struck dumbfounded by how Roger said that so nonchalantly, Alfons whispered into my ear.

Alfons: Kate, you’ll need to clad your heart in iron underwear. This man’s a muscle-powered brute.

Roger: Hey now, is that something you call an old friend?

Alfons: We’re friends? Did you perhaps hit your head somewhere?

Apparently the two had known each other for a while now, but—they always argue like this whenever they’re together.

“To be able to argue like this means you’re close”

The last time I said that to them, they both looked so disgusted that I never brought it up again.

(Let’s just set aside how much I believe what Roger said and how well the two get along…)

Kate: Regardless, I want to do my best on the mission.

Alfons: Why?

Kate: Until now, I’ve only been a bystander, but this time, I’m attending a party where women are an essential part. Even as a companion, I can participate in the mission.

(So far, they’ve been considerate of me because of my position as Fairytale Keeper)

(I’ve been watching everyone from a distance)

Kate: I want to fulfill my role as Fairytale Keeper. Of course, I’ll do my best to not hold you back.

The moment I spoke with determination, the carriage passed through the gates of the estate.

Now within the target’s territory, Roger and Alfons took on the “Crown” look.

Alfons: Roger, you’ll need to put that rifle away. We don’t want them turning us away.

--

Using the invitation card from Alfons, we entered the estate without an incident.

Women dressed in glamorous gowns and men in tailcoats, which made it obvious that they were of the upper class, were having pleasant chats over drinks.

Kate: …Huh? Where’s Alfons?

Though he was with us in the beginning, I noticed his absence the moment we entered the hall— 

Roger: Don’t worry about it. Al’s well known in these parts which makes it easy for him to get information. Best to just let him do what he wants like a stray cat.

I was surprised by the lack of a detailed plan before our infiltration, but it seemed that Crown didn’t split their roles.

(They read the situation and then act. Was there a strong relationship of trust?)

(Or was it because each member’s strengths allowed them to handle any situation....)

While thinking it was probably the latter, given how each member had a strong personality, I felt someone’s gaze on me.

(It feels like I’m being watched…?)

I was nervous for a moment, thinking my identity had been exposed. But as I looked around, I realized that wasn’t the case.

—I wonder which family he’s the son of.

—What a lovely man. I’ve never seen him before.

The young ladies’ sweet gazes were fixed on Roger who stood beside me. 

(It slipped my mind since we don’t spend much time outside of Crown’s Castle, but Roger…)

Looks well-bred

Has an intellectual air about him  +4 +4

Has a nice body

(That’s right, the intellectual air’s probably attractive to upper class women…)

His rugged, serious expression, those determined lips, and absolute intelligence radiating from those glasses may capture and trap the hearts of women.

(Sometimes I get nervous when he’s talking to me while standing so close…wait, no, bad!)

Roger calmly looked around the hall, ignorant of the thoughts racing through my mind.

Roger: …Those ladies over there look like they’re showing signs of addiction.

Kate: Signs of addiction…?

Roger: Yeah. Crooked smiles could be a sign that something’s wrong with their central nervous system.

Kate: …Meaning there’s a high chance that recreational drugs are being used?

Roger: Yeah. It’d be faster if we could secure the scene. Then again…if British healthcare was better, we wouldn’t have to deal with tedious cases like this.

I knew what he was getting at. It’s hard to find a doctor you can trust in London.

Kate: We have fake treatments, fake medicine, and even fake doctors…

—When I became Fairytale Keeper, Liam told me something.

~~ Flashback ~~

Liam: Roger comes from a family that’s worked in medicine and his father’s a wealthy man who still runs a clinic in town. With how a lot of Crown have complicated backgrounds, I think Roger’s an unusual one here.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(If his life had continued down the proper path, he could’ve ended up like that young man over there laughing with a glass of wine in hand)

(It wouldn’t have been unusual for Roger to inherit the family business either…)

(But instead, Roger chose the path of condemning evil with evil)

Kate: Roger, why did you join Crown?

Roger: Are you asking why I didn’t inherit the family business and end up like those guys enjoying wine and women?

(Ugh, he’s sharp…It’s like he’s reading my mind)

Kate: Yes. Even under Her Majesty’s control, Crown’s still dangerous. Unless there was some kind of specific reason, it doesn’t seem worth it to jump right in.

Roger: Hmm, and if I did have a specific reason? For example, doing research that can only be done there.

(Research that can only be done in Crown…?)

Kate: What are you researching, Roger?

It’s a question I had while in his basement lab too.

Roger scrutinized me behind his glasses and bent down to meet my gaze.

Roger: Cursed Ones—and how to rid the word of them.

(Rid the word of cursed ones? What does he mean…)

I stare back at Roger in confusion.

Roger: I’m cursed with the double-crossing hunter.

“Cursed Ones” were people who were cursed the moment they were born.

Because of their curses, they’re doomed to “sin and meet a tragic end”.

Kate: Betrayal…Is that your fate?

Roger: Yeah. I could actually be someone with pretty dangerous thoughts that betrays Crown, you know?

(...)

Roger: So, Kate. What would you do about it?

(At the time—)

Kate: I’m your exclusive Fairytale Keeper, so I’m keeping an eye on you 24/7. If I think you’re doing anything weird…I’ll do what I can to stop you.

Roger: Pfft, hahahaha! You’re a funny one. You’re too good.

Roger laughed and patted my head.

Kate: Hey, don’t try to change the subject.)

Roger: If you’re gonna be around me 24/7, then you might just end up understanding what I meant.

Alfons: Pardon me for interrupting your fun.

When I turned around at the sound of his voice, I saw Alfons, who was not around earlier.

Alfons: Kate, Roger. We got a hit at this party after all.

Kate: A hit? You mean…

Alfons: There’s an amusing show taking place in the other room. Please come this way.

[danieyells]

Think about this idea! It's been almost a year and you didn't find the anomaly or how to solve your curse, most of the boys know but aren't really keeping track, a year is so far away and it slips away so fast but suddenly the MC one day starts skipping some classes or acting odd so one of the boys (for special angst one who has a crush on mc but didn't confess yet) ask them what is going on and they fall in the realization when they say "one week left"

I was trying to take a nap when i remembered this ask and this idea clawed its way into my head. So hey.

It's not quite what your idea was, but I hope you like it anyway, anon.

Frostheim.

Vagastrom.

Jabberwock.

Sinostra.

Hotarubi.

Obscuary.

Mortkranken.

Even the previously missing Dionysia ghouls.

You'd met and bonded with all of the ghouls in Darkwick, and even a few outside of it. You'd gone on missions. You'd even begun to get the ghouls to capture anomalies instead of kill them. The anomalies were being studied and discoveries were being made.

But none relating to your own curse.

The Gala came and went, the Laurel Crown awarded. The third years had moved on to become fourth years. You'd had many hard and tearful goodbyes. Promises to meet again that you hoped could come true. Some more firm understandings that this was goodbye, and wishes of good luck.

Soon the new first years would be coming and they would be assigned their houses.

Soon. . . .

"Dandelion?" The temporary Captain of Jabberwock leaned over to stare at you, a curious look on his face. Towa had been inconsolable for a while after Haru had left, and Jabberwock had been plagued by violent storms of snow and hail and lightning. Eventually it all calmed down. You hoped the quieter and natural atmosphere of Jabberwock could heal your stressing heart. All it did was leave you to your thoughts. Thoughts that must have shown on your face. Towa seemed to have had gotten over his own problems, and seemed back to his usual self. His arms looped around you, feeling like warmth and sunshine incarnate. No wonder plants lived him so much. "Here you go! A hug to make your sad face go away!"

You laugh weakly. But it doesn't take the dread away. You turn into him and smell the sweet and floral scent about him, clinging and trying to hide your woes so he wouldn't begin to feel bad again. You thank him, and he gives you a squeeze.

"That didn't help?" Somehow you felt bad for not reassuring him. "What's the matter? Do you miss Haru too?"

You did miss Haru. You missed all your friends and loved ones.

You were going to miss all of your friends and loved ones.

"Whaddyou mean? Tell me." He gave you a squeeze of encouragement. You choked back a sob, but barely managed to whimper out your woes.

"One week left. . . ."

"One week. . .?" In one week the new first years would arrive and be assigned their houses. In one week, it will have had been a year since that concert, since that anomaly, since-- "Oh! Your curse!!"

Part of you wanted to feel angry at how Towa didn't seem bothered by it. He cuddled you, petting your hair. "You're gonna die soon, huh?"

How blunt. He was like this a lot, dismissive about life. Sometimes it scared you, but in ways it was comforting to hear it said so straightforward. Yes, you were going to die soon. Someone said it. Someone acknowledged it. Someone remembered.

"That's okay! Everybody dies eventually!"

"But I don't want to die, Towa!" You cry, snapping your head up to look at him desperately. He parted his lips as of in surprise. "I'm not ready to die! I-- I--"

"Hmm." Towa looked at you with contemplative pity. "So you don't wanna die yet? You wanna keep living?"

You nod. Did Towa think so little of his own life that he couldn't comprehend wanting it to continue? Or was he just that unempathetic? Maybe you didn't mean much to him, and he didn't care if you were gone the way he cared when Haru left.

"Why don't you ask me for help?"

What?

"What do you mean?" You looked at him inquisitively. Towa smiled back down at you, beguiling, lavender hair framed by an inky black sky.

"Why don't you ask me to save you? So you don't die as soon."

You shook your head. "Towa, I was cursed by some anomaly--we never found another one like it, I--I can still remember its eye and nothing that erases my memory works to make me forget. Everytime I close my eyes lately I see it like--like it's coming after me, like it's getting closer. I see that eye in other people's eyes, I--"

"Do you see it in mine?" It's eerily still and quiet in Jabberwock today. You look in his eyes. It's easy, like nothing but you two exists right now. "Is it there?"

"No." You swallow. You don't remember standing. You don't remember Towa standing, either. "No, it's not."

"I can help you. I promise." Why was it so dark? The sky wasn't clouded, and Towa wasn't upset. You didn't remember it being dark when you came here. The warmth of the sun was your only comfort alone with your thoughts. "You just have to ask me. Ask me to help you."

"But. . .how will you help me?" As a matter of fact, it was midday when you came here, wasn't it? Why could Towa talk in the first place. "What can you do that no one else could? Wh-why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Do you want me to grant your wish? Or not?" You could see Towa clearly, but the deep darkness around you reflected no light in his eyes. It reminded you of being in the sunken ship disguised as an undersea palace, when those anomalies tried to keep you from leaving. You didn't feel cold like that time though. You felt warm. You almost felt safe.

"I. . .I. . . ." Something told you to run away. For a moment, you saw the anomaly's eye again. Towa looked irritated, and suddenly it was gone, as if frightened away. You heard thunder crack in the distance. "I want to live. . . ."

"Tell me what you wish for." He smiled at you. It was welcoming and pitying. Like finding a lost child. "I'll keep your safe."

His face was very close, your eyes locked in his. You felt weaker than ever with him holding you like this. The words spilled out of your mouth.

"I wish my curse was gone. . .I wish I could live. . .please help me, Towa. . . ."

Towa smiled and pet your hair. Then he stepped back from you. You clung to his sleeves, afraid of being abaoned to the emptiness around you. Between you, a pale plant grew to eye level, flowering before your very eyes.

"Eat it."

The plant moved itself to your mouth. You parted your lips, allowing it in, and closed your teeth and lips around it like you'd done with so many plants Towa fed you. It ripped itself away from you, and you chewed it. Your mouth was filled with complex flavors, sweet and bitter and painful and unfamiliar. Your senses were filled with something soft and numbing. But you still felt the strong press of Towa's lips on yours, pushing the flower down your throat. Somehow, you didn't gag from the pressure.

When you swallowed, a wave of nausea hit you. The sickly feeling was followed by electricity, jolting through your mouth and down your throat and up your spine, into your stomach and brain. You felt it travel to the tips of your fingers and pores, arcing across every hair along your body.

And then the sharp pain and blast of fog filled your head.

It felt like roots implanting themself through your whole body, as if replacing every part of your nervous system. You opened your mouth ask what was happening, but all that left you was a scream so loud it hurt your throat. Your eyes and face burned with your tears.

You dug your nails into Towa's arms as he pulled Way, and he watched on without helping as you began to vomit. It hurt. All of this hurt. You vomited burning and freezing mud, and what you vaguely grasped to be seeds. The empty world around you seemed to consume the mess, drinking it up and burying the seeds into the invisible earth.

As you heaved and gasped when it finally came down, you watched another plant grow. This one was familiar. It flowered quickly, and you remembered the flowers of the anomaly that cursed you. You saw them flower and grow, and you gasped, yanking your hands away from Towa to cover your eyes.

Not again, you didn't want to see the eye again.

It wasn't until you heard lightning and hail, feeling the fall of it directly in front of you that you realized you couldn't remember how the eye looked anymore. The memory was simply gone.

"Did you feel it? It was like being struck by lightning, right?" Towa's voice echoed around you jovially. "That means we're soulmates now. Because your soul is mine now. Our pact is sealed. And your curse is gone."

"Wha--ow. . . ." You snapped your head up, pulling your hands away from your eyes to look at Towa, only to shield your eyes from the bright, warm sun of Jabberwock. It burned, after being in the dark so long--and after the sensory overload after eating that flower. Looking down and shielding your eyes from the light, you saw something smouldering between yours and Towa's feet, surrounded by charred petals. "What. . .what did you do, Towa. . .?"

Towa made an inquisitive sound at you, tilting his head. He once again looked innocent. He once again couldn't speak under the light of day. He smiled and giggled, covering your eyes and kissing you again, humming happily against your lips. From being around him for over a year you'd already begun to understand him when he couldn't speak. He was reassuring you. You'll be okay, he says. You don't need to be afraid anymore.

"But. . .my soul. . .a pact. . .like a. . .?"

Like a demon?

Was Towa a demon?

He pat you on the back, silently saying not to worry. And then, he leapt into the air, off to somewhere else in the former safari area, leaving you to pull yourself together.

The eye was gone from your mind. You couldn't remember anything besides the flowers and their charred state in the beautiful green grass of Jabberwock.

You held your stomach, feeling it knot with nerves.

The curse was gone. You'd live. . .but now your life was in Towa's hands.

You began to leave Jabberwock, turning over in your head how you would tell Cornelius what happened. You'd made a pact with a demon to spare your life. . .but the demon was on campus. He was a threat. He had power. A lot of power.

The moment you started to consider telling them it was Towa, you screamed out in pain. Electricity ran through your very existence, not just your body but your soul too. A warning.

You caught your breath where you collapsed in the grass, one of the anomalous animals nervously sniffing at you until your rising startled it into fleeing. Right. You couldn't share who the demon was. But you could say there had been one and that your life was safe now. . that you were aware of.

Once your shaking legs were steady and the phantom pain subsided, you made your way out into the main grounds and towards the main building. It was probably important that you share the news. . .whether or not it was good.

[impossiblesuitcase]

I've seen people argue that Cinder choosing to become the empress of the Eastern Commonwealth when she explicitly states that she doesn't want to be royalty is out-of-character. I counter argue that that is a oversimplification of her personal insecurities and a misreading of her character arc.

Cinder's key reasons for not wanting to be royalty are 1. She doesn't want to fail people. 2. She desires anonymity, and 3. She doesn't believe that she will be accepted by others--"She had seen the prejudices of the people in the Commonwealth. Something told her that they wouldn't be as accepting of her as a ruler. She wasn't even sure she wanted to be empress. She was still getting used to the idea of being a princess."

Cinder is naturally afraid of the responsibility she would have to bear as a leader. However that does not translate to her being inactive. Cinder is keenly interested in social justice. She encourages Iko to petition the government to initiate change for androids in the very first chapters we meet her. She takes an active part in the revolution, not just for the preservation of her own life, but because she genuinely cares about the citizens of Luna. This is affirmed by how Cinder prefers to be called a revolutionary over a princess--her politics mean more to her than her lineage. Once crowned queen of Luna, she is tireless in enacting changes to the country. If she truly hated being in this position as queen, she would have taken a much more passive stance and allowed the thaumaturges to manage the kingdom. In Wires and Nerve she demonstrates how deeply she cares about the welfare of her people and fights against threats to her country personally even when she is strongly encouraged against it. And then, once she abdicates her throne, she becomes an ambassador to facilitate peaceful relations between Earth and Luna. Released from her birthright, she could have resumed life as a mechanic, still hassled by paparazzi, but no longer held accountable for political peace. But Cinder chooses to stay a politician because she has always genuinely cared about using her power to help others. She represents the powerless as having been that once herself.

Cinder desires a life without public scrutiny. But where does this originate? This desire is an extension of Adri's abuse. Because she was mocked for being cyborg, she wished to hide from people in general so they do not uncover her secret. But she sacrifices this luxury when she decides to go to the ball and tell Kai of Levana's plot. Later, she comes to accept that--born into fame--she would never enjoy a life of anonymity.

Connected with her insecurity as a cyborg, Cinder fears that she will not be accepted by others. She believes this as a byproduct of the discrimination she faced from fellow shopkeepers in New Beijing Market such as Chang Sacha. However Kai makes it clear that the people of the Commonwealth have come to appreciate her, even wanting to make a "statue [of her] where [her] booth used to be at the market" and "action figures" of her. Although she will always have critics, Cinder is generally liked by Earthens and praised by them for abdicating her throne, promising an end to Lunar tyranny.

Kai is right when he tells her that she "would make a great leader" even when she "never wanted to be queen." Why? Because her wants and her abilities are different. The 16-year-old Cinder we first meet opposes her birthright as queen because she has the weight of the universe placed on her shoulders with just one sentence. She's an unloved, inexperienced teenager--of course she's more than hesitant! However she grows to embrace this fundamental part of herself, even having "pride" to declare that she is "the rightful heir!" Cinder becomes loved and becomes experienced. For her to remain the same girl in the prison cell, terrified by the prospect of being a princess would be a stagnation of her character development. It may not be the life she chose, but it is all the same the life that she accepts.

When Kai asks her to consider becoming the empress in the future, Cinder agrees and takes "in the first full breath she'd taken in days." We don't see a girl paralyzed with fear or regret. Rather, she feels relief because she can envision this prospect and not be crushed by it. And finally, when Kai proposes, she excitedly looks forward to these things: "She would be Kai's wife. She would be the Commonwealth's empress. And she had every intention of being blissfully happy for ever, ever after." Cinder's vision for happiness welcomes being the empress despite the hardships attached to it, and she is the most motivated, willing and hard-working candidate for the position.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic hearts - (9)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

🤭👀🦋

---

You appointed your sous chef to run the restaurant while you wanted to work the first few months to get the school lunch system in order. The kitchen facility was much less advanced to what you had access to before and the menu needed a revamp. None of the kids were getting any nutritious meals in and upon further research it was easier to understand why not many students were willing to have their meals here. For the price they were paying, they did not receive food they liked.

The benefit of being from an established restaurant meant you got your own office within the school and it felt empowering. To have your own corner. It felt like as the days passed, your sleeplessness was getting worse and all you could think of was how hard it was to try and be anything else other than what this world expected women to be. You wanted to quit your job or resort to being comfortable with just being in the background.

It was like a new wave of bitterness and futility that had taken every woman by a storm. A few of them were like zombies, not lively as they had once been before. The hallway chatter had died down, a lot of companies began to struggle, all over the world it was becoming more apparent. That if women were taken out of the system, it began to fail on itself.

But through this you were facing another unique challenge on your own. You had asked for time with Ken, to contemplate on that friendship and process his return. You had at minimum expected him to have popped up into your life again to remind you he needed an answer, or buy his way in with treats and flamboyant gestures to convince you he was trying but none of that happened over the past week. He was firstly busy with his schedule but then he never went out of his way to find you. But even if he had done so you would know because you were avoiding him, only out of the need to observe him from afar.

Once the meals for the day and week were sorted all that you needed to do was oversee the execution and make sure the pantry was stocked with the required ingredients while managing the budget. Which gave you a little extra time to snoop around.

You opened up your phone to start the first step, to check if he had any social media presence and your search came up with nothing. He wasn’t anywhere online. He would turn up to school 10 mins early just to be there to welcome the kids who needed to come to library to study and some days would surprise them with a box of donuts.

When you walked down the corridors you would always here the sound of children laughing and him making jokes. The more you observed him to try to find a characteristic that could label him or show you that deep down he was just as bad as any other guy, you couldn’t. There was no flaw.

Come lunch time, he would sit alone to have his meal, his eyes occasionally catching yours when you stood behind the counter and before he could initiate a conversation you would leave, to hide inside the service area.

It was just that when you’ve wanted to be right so badly, admitting defeat to being proven wrong made you feel a lot more humiliated.

You were walking back to your office post the lunch rush when you could hear him down the hallway. His voice animated as he narrated a story and it drew you towards the library door. From the glass window in it, you could seen him, wearing a paper crown while all the other children were gathered around him wearing some form of character related clothing, all taking part in the story telling.

The smile on these toddler’s faces caused you to smile too. But there was one issue that you couldn’t resolve. How was it that he had brought forth a change in himself while you were struggling for it? even after having visited the real world before you did.

“God, he’s so good with kids. It’s unbelievable.”, someone slid up next to you. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself standing next to the school principal.

“He just turned up at my doorstep one day. I was skeptical cause he had no work experience but look at that face.”, she smirked.

You weren’t interested in listening to her take, it astonished you that most failed to value him for his character and only chose to exploit him for his physical beauty.

“Who can stay no to all of that?”, she gossiped but your eyes could only focus on him.

His sandy blonde hair turning golden as it caught the afternoon light, the pastel pink shirt he wore reminded you of where you had come from. It made you feel special, that wherever you were, you and him had that special connection to exist in a world of your own.

“He’s more than that.”, you said confidently to which she hummed half heartedly.

“But just between us girls though. I believe he already has a girlfriend. I tried to kiss him once and he let it slip.”, she shrugged her shoulders as if her comment was well intentioned but it was rather a way of letting you know that you didn’t have any more chance than she did.

“But hey, until I see a ring on that girl’s finger nothing is set in stone.”, she laughed as she patted your arm but you couldn’t find the humor in her statement.

Every day you learnt something new about this city and this place. But to take a step back from your own problems, you only found more. To understand that just as vulnerable as you were, he was too.

As you looked into the class again, his eyes were on you as he settled the kids into their nap time. He stood up, beginning to walk towards you. The hair on your arms stood up with the shameful feeling of having been caught. You weren’t brave enough to stay, to face him. So you bolted the other direction annoyed with yourself that you were behaving like a teenager.

The day was almost over and you were at ease knowing that since today was friday evening, if you snuck out without him knowing, then you had the whole weekend to yourself without this constant gnawing crush feasting on your mind. You couldn’t put yourself through it again, to have him infiltrate your mind. You knew how it went last time, so why try again. You just wanted to snuff before it consumed you whole.

You put away your folders and stepped out after making sure there was no one around. You locked your door and quickly began to walk towards the school entrance, throwing glances over your shoulder keeping a vigilant watch for Ken.

But suddenly you felt a warm hold around your wrist and then a firm tug, which altered your course of direction from the school's entrance to the Janitor’s closet. You were going to scream, absolutely convinced this was an abduction when a hand wrapped around your mouth. Your back rested on his chest as he shushed you, just by the softness of his touch you could tell it was the one man you were trying to hide from.

He watched the crack beneath to door, only to watch a passing shadow and the sound of clicking heels against the floor tiles. But all you could focus on was how his muscles were taut beneath his shirt, his warm breath slipping down the back of your neck and the rhythm of his rapid heart that beat in sync with yours. It was sureal, hearing his heart beat for the first time, it reminded you that he was real.

As the sound faded, he relaxed and let go of you. But you were grateful for the dark, he couldn’t see how deep your cheeks were flushed.

“What were you thinking?”, you whispered quickly.

“I wanted to talk to you.”, he responded.

“You don’t kidnap people for that.”, you gestured around you.

“No, I’ve made sure you don’t take off running again.”, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Yeah, I see you and your little schemes.”, he continued knowing you remained silent.

“Schemes? What schemes?”, you mumbled as he drew closer, there was no where else to run now, because he had his arms on either side and a mischievous rumble in his voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Briella.”, he tilted his head so he could maintain eye contact.

Your palms were sweating, your heart was beating faster than it should, your knees felt weak and some part of you wanted to pull him in closer.

You wanted to deny it so as you thought of an excuse, you opened your mouth to say it but he placed his hand over your lips again. Hearing the sound of the Principal’s heels coming closer again. This felt like a secret mission, that for the first time since setting foot here, you felt the rush of adrenaline. The space was getting a little stuffy as you breathed in sync with him. His eyes finding yours again as you both waited, afraid she was going to open the door and discover you two here, huddled together in a rather compromising exchange.

But the fear turned into a thrill as he grinned and you knew, that there was no use fighting this. He was going to take residence in your mind once again.

---

Tags:

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[scribbling-dragon]

the world’s my oyster (i’m the pearl)

summary:

Um,” he stares at Scott for a moment longer. “Can I, uh, can I come in? Or,” he allows himself to trail off, still watching Scott. The crown certainly suits him, at least, even though the pinkish-orange colour of the coral is not something he’d ever have considered to go well with cyan.

The door swings open in front of him, and he almost startles at the abruptness of it, jerking his hand back and down to his side. “So,” Scott’s grinning, that grin that makes his teeth look far sharper than they actually are, “you've come crawling back, have you?”

“It’s,” he laughs, inching forward, “It’s not crawling back, it’s…sheepishly wandering in.” He smiles a little as he continues to inch his way forward, sliding past Scott and through the rather narrow ‘doorway’ when Scott doesn't move to stop him from entering.

-

Or, a 5 + 1 where Scott is acting suspicious, and Martyn is trying to figure out why

(ao3 link)

(11,149 words)

yeah the title’s a h2o reference. it’s comedy gold, alright (and mer scott. it just fits yk)

I.

The small, rather rickety path out into the water is what first grabs at his attention, snagging it and holding it as he steps a little closer. He crouches, trying not to come off as too suspicious, even though he is acting incredibly, incredibly suspicious right now, and anyone that might see him would be well-founded in whatever boogeyman-related accusation they throw his way.

The curse itches beneath his skin, far more intense than it had been in the previous games. It ticks alongside his slowly counting timer. The itching only grows more fierce the longer he sits around twiddling his thumbs, but he sits, squatted in the bushes and sheltered by the trees overhead, and watches as Scott moves around the small island he’s constructing.

As Martyn watches, he notices the way that Scott moves around the island is actually rather odd, especially as he occasionally jumps away from the edge, as though he’s been burned- which is impossible, because it’s water.

Despite his apparent hatred for the water, Scott continues to build where he is, sticking firmly to the centre of the small island that is beginning to take shape around him. The only part that remains unchanged is the small shelter right beside the bridge, though Scott does glance over at it occasionally.

More than once, Martyn swears Scott looks directly at him as well, eyes pausing for a moment over his hiding spot before he returns to whatever he was doing before. It makes the curse thrum a little louder, a little heavier, beneath his skin in anticipation. He squashes it down a little further, before creeping out from behind the bush he’d chosen to hide behind for the past…however long.

His timer tells him he’s only spent five minutes crouched there, but the moon had been high in the sky when he first started watching Scott, casting most of his surroundings into shadow - only the island had been lit up, a small beacon on light in the darkness swamping everything else - but now that same moon is incredibly close to setting, and the horizon is beginning to tinge pink with the sunrise.

He doesn't believe these timers one bit, not at all. There’s something wrong with them, but either everyone’s too caught up in the newness of this game to notice, or they have noticed and simply don't care enough to question it. Martyn didn't believe in the twenty-four hours, anyway, not when Grian announced it in such an odd way. And those watching on would hardly be satisfied with a day of entertainment.

The dirt bridge crumbles a little beneath his feet, and he pauses, holding his breath as he waits to see if it will take his weight- if it will betray his entrance onto the island. Scott’s back remains turned to him, and he watches as the man sifts through one of the chests he just set up.

He gives no reaction to Martyn’s approach, so he continues onwards, making an effort to place his feet a little lighter as he approaches, wary of alerting Scott. Martyn is well aware of Scott’s reputation in these games, of his seemingly inhuman hearing that catches even the smallest of sounds- Joel had told him once, in one of the afterparties they host once the games come to a close, that Scott had found him and Grian during last life because he breathed too loud. The man’s ears are entirely normal, too, not at all pointed or giving any indication that they're anything but human ears with normal, human-like hearing.

He realises, as Scott begins to turn, that he’s just been stood on the man’s bridge and staring at him like a creep. He scrambles for something to do, eyes landing on the odd shelter once more, spying the boat lodged into the side of the island and containing one zombified villager. Perfect.

He lunges for the boat, throwing himself into it and beginning to slowly push off the edge of the island, ignoring the thumping in his heart- the roaring in his ears that demands he kills Scott then and there, that he had had his back turned for several long minutes, in which he could have neatly lodged an axe in the man’s back and be rid of the curse.

“Uh,” he glances back, one hand still resting against the edge of the island, still in the process of getting the boat unlodged, Scott’s turned to face him, eyes wide with…shock? It doesn't look like shock, more like surprise. Martyn almost begins laughing. “No thank you.” Scott says, and the man is beside him a moment later, moving almost scarily quick, but he doesn't have much time to focus on that, instead focusing on not overbalancing and dragging them both into the water and Scott yanks him from the boat.

He stumbles a little as his feet make contact with ground, foot catching on nothing, and he grabs onto Scott’s shoulders to steady himself, gripping tightly to Scott’s shirt. And he almost succeeds in pulling both of them backwards into the water as he tips back, already laughing.

The water rushes up around him, and he inhales some as he laughs, popping back to the surface, coughing. His hair obscures most of his vision, dripping in front of his eyes even as he pushes it back out of the way; it only falls forward again, obscuring his vision once more and sticking to his face.

He continues laughing as soon as he’s certain he’s not going to inhale any more water and choke to death. He makes a grab for one of his sandals as it begins to float past, and it only makes him laugh a little harder at the sheer absurdity of it, having to grip onto the edge of the small island to make sure he doesn't go under again.

“Aw, man.” He manages to calm down momentarily, huffing out a breath, breathing out slowly as it threatens to turn into a laugh again. “You sounded so offended, man.” He grins up at Scott, pushing his hair back from his face again- seriously, what’s even the point of wearing a headband if it doesn't keep his hair out of his eyes.

“You tried to steal my villager,” Scott frowns down at him, but Martyn can see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, almost a laugh. “I think I have some right to be offended.” Scott tips his chin upwards, looking down at him almost haughtily- something that Martyn would only believe if he had known Scott for less than five minutes. The guy has some odd flair for the dramatics. It’s a shame that he and Ren never teamed, they would certainly have been interesting to watch.

“I guess so, thought you didn't hear me, though.”

“I heard you.” Scott says, looking down at him. The skin around his eyes catches the light slightly, flashing bright, but when Martyn takes a closer look, it’s just some rather bright eyeshadow the other has decided to wear. “I just thought I’d give you an easy kill.”

“An easy kill?” He laughs it off, ignoring how the itch beneath his skin seems to intensify with those few words- he already knows, he might as well. He shakes the thoughts off, pulling himself from the water. “Wait, wait, you think I’m the boogey?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, c’mon man,” Scott hops back a few steps as he approaches, looking more than a little nervous as Martyn steps forward. “That hurts, you think I've come here to just kill you in cold blood? Can't I just visit a friend?”

“While that’s a nice thought, I unfortunately don't believe you.” Scott smiles, expression not matching his words, the eyeshadow smudged around the corners of his eyes shimmering in the light again, drawing Martyn’s eyes back to it. “You got that whole-” Scott gestures at him, “-thing about you. Twitchy, like you're ready to swing at someone as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“I mean, you did that, didn't you?” His clothes stick to his skin rather uncomfortably, clinging. He finds a piece of seaweed stuck to his calf as well, peeling it off as he speaks. He flicks it at Scott, for a laugh, watching as the man jumps out of the seaweed’s path and sends a glare his way. “Poor Skizz, the man just wanted to chat with you.”

“He set it up so well, Martyn,” Scott groans, suspicion dissolving for a moment as he complains. “Everyone’s been getting on to me about it, especially after Bdubs’ stunt- which also wasn't my fault! But he was just saying all the right things- it was far too funny for me to let the opportunity pass up.” And Martyn’s sure that They rather enjoyed the show too, especially from the one person that refused to cooperate with their schemes the last two games.

“I hear you,” he laughs, even as he attempts to slip his foot back into his wet sandal without fiddling about with the straps too much. His clothes are going to be wet for the next while and the sun’s not even up yet meaning he’s going to be walking around in squeaky shoes for several long hours- no way he’s sneaking up on anyone like that. “But still not the boogey.” He grins, only sweating a little as Scott continues to look unconvinced- one word and everyone would start avoiding him like the plague.

“Mhm,” Scott looks him up and down, with a judgemental enough look that he almost cowers beneath it. But Martyn’s built of stronger stuff than that, staring back at Scott in return. “If you say so, then.”

Scott’s lips quirk up in the corner a little bit, as though there’s a joke only he’s been let in on. And Martyn has a pretty good idea that he’s probably the butt of said joke.

“Have fun sneaking up on people in your squeaky shoes,” Scott says, which. Great. Scott’s already noticed that and he’s not even moved yet, this is actually hopeless. He’s going to be yellow within the day, and there’s nothing he can even do about it.

“Still not the boogey.” He reminds. He leaves Scott to it, though, turning around and walking back down the bridge. His sandals squeak as he walks, and he does his best to ignore the snicker behind him. “Yeah, yeah,” he shouts back, turning around to face Scott, “laugh it up!”

He slips as he turns, some dirt giving way beneath his heel, and almost falls back into the ocean. He manages to regain his footing quickly, scrambling to maintain his balance on the rickety little path, glaring at Scott when the man’s snickering turns into a sharp bark of laughter.

He grumbles to himself, mind already running over the few ideas he has left, searching for an idea. His shoes continue squeaking as he walks, and all it does is distract him from his game plans, dragging his mind back towards Scott, and the man’s odd avoidance of the water’s edge and just water in general.

It could also, very easily, be that the man was avoiding him. But he looked far more nervous than he needed to as Martyn approached him after his brief dip in the ocean, far too nervous for someone that was just worried about being murdered. And that also doesn't explain his behaviour before Martyn even approached, avoiding the surrounding ocean like his life depended on it; and unless Scott’s hearing has reached new levels of freaky, then he definitely wasn't watching for Martyn then.

When he glances back, Scott is still keeping his distance from the water.

He considers it for a moment, then shoves the thought aside. He has far more important things to worry about than Scott acting weird- he’s always acting weird! He’s a weird man.

=== === ===

II.

He stares at the ground in front of him, the bucket in his hands warm as he stares at the empty spot, where there had been a cow only moments before. He glances over at Etho from the corner of his eye, biting on his tongue so he doesn't start laughing at possibly the worst moment he’s had all day.

He still aches from the pufferfish Etho had flung at him earlier. It’s a very good reminder of why he should definitely not start laughing at something that is actually very, very bad.

“Dude,” Impulse is staring at him as well, face set into one of those I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed looks.

“I did not mean for that to happen,” he says. And he can hear the laugh bubbling in his throat, threatening to break free if he continues talking much longer. He clutches the lava bucket a little tighter, before deciding that is probably a bad thing to do because the metal is already heating up to a hazardous temperature. And he likes being able to use his hands. “I was just memeing Skizz, and then-” he cuts himself off again, peering up through the small hole in the ceiling to look at Skizz.

The man stares back down at him, one hand resting against the edge of the hole. Martyn had definitely considered simply leaving the lava there for Skizz to fall into, unaware, and taken the kill then and there, but the swift death of the cow had been enough to make him feel a little guilty.

“Aw,” he buries his face in his hands, stepping back from the small entrance. “I am so sorry.” His words are muffled slightly, but he’s sure the others can at least guess the sentiment of his words if they can't understand them. He pulls at his face a little bit, glancing up at the people around him.

Impulse just looks sad at this point, staring at the spot their cow had been only a few moments before. Martyn has never felt regret as intensely as he does in this moment, even if his whole visit had been a ploy to try and kill one of them.

“You gotta be kidding me right now.”

Martyn can feel his resolve begin to waver as they continue on about the cow, lips twitching into an almost-smile as Impulse continues to bemoan their loss. Etho, at least, seems to have planned ahead, or at least far enough ahead that he saw the cow not surviving for very long anyway, as he manages to retrieve a cow within a few minutes after the incident.

It’s as though the cow never died in the first place, and he watches it meander around the small base from the step. Impulse had told him, in very few words, that he’d prefer it if he sat up here and away from the cows for now. He hadn't minded it either, as it means he can sit a short distance away from everyone else- a long enough distance that the itch at the back of his brain is reduced, if only a little bit. The need for blood still lingers, but it’s nowhere near as intense as it had been before.

He can't help but panic a little, unable to see any of these people splitting off from the pack so that he can follow and murder them. He also can't see them just letting it slide if he does kill one of them, so maybe it’s not his greatest idea to pick one of these four.

“Oh, Skizz,” his ears prick up as a new voice joins the jumbled fray, a little louder than many of the others and much further away. He stands, moving from the step Impulse had instructed him to stay on so there weren't any more cow related accidents. “Bud.”

He can hear the sympathy in Scott’s voice, and when he pokes his head out of the entrance to the underground base, Scott is smiling sympathetically at Skizz. A boat rocks gently behind him, lodged firmly in the sand as Scott steps gingerly out of it, scurrying a few metres up the beach before he comes to a stop.

“Dude, it’s been brutal,” Skizz says.

Martyn emerges fully onto the small island, only because hovering in the darkness is making him far more suspicious, and it would be very easy for Scott to pin it on him right now- especially as the man seems convinced that it is him anyway.

“What happened?” Scott seems to be asking from a sympathetic standpoint, but Martyn also knows Scott, and knowing Scott means that he knows Scott just wants the details of what happened from the source. Martyn listens as well, nodding at Scott when the man’s eyes slide over to him.

“I was way, way deep down,” Skizz gestures to the ground beneath their feet, moving back and forth a little bit as they talk. “I was just looking for some diamonds, and a creeper killed me.” Skizz turns his back to Martyn, and he has the idea to just do it now- do it here. He’d considered it already, back in the cave when the curse first settled itself over his mind, but he’d resisted then. But he’s so close to running out of time, so close to failing-

His hand hovers over the sword at his hip, and Skizz’s back is still turned, and Scott had even proposed an alliance to him earlier today, so he doubts Scott’s going to rat him out right now. He glances up, hand still hovering, still uncertain.

Scott glances between him and Skizz, mouth setting into a grim line. He then shakes his head, slight enough that anyone not looking would have missed it. And Skizz continues talking, oblivious to the silent conversation that had just passed between him and Scott.

And Scott’s right, honestly. It would be a bad idea, and they would have four angry people after them, one of which is definitely going to be a yellow soon, and that’s not something he wants to see at all. He swallows, glancing away, mind racing, curse roaring, demanding he ignore Scott, that he does it anyway.

He takes a step back, away from the shoreline and Scott and Skizz, pulling his hand away from his sword forcefully, reminding himself that it would be a bad idea, over and over again, and that Skizz has already lost enough time as it is, to lose more would only put him on Skizz’s list.

He takes another step back, and his foot catches on something. He glances back, finding it to be the hole that leads to the base beneath the island. The…confined base that has little to no escape routes, something which could very easily be blown up.

He glances back to the talking pair on the beach. Neither of them watch him, neither of them are looking to see where he goes.

He drops down into the hole, ignoring the slight jolt in his ankles as he lands. He pauses, not daring to even breathe. He can't hear himself over the sound of blood roaring in his ears- he doesn't know how loud he would be, can't know how loud it would be. So he doesn't dare breathe, straining his ears to make sure that there are people in the base below him, that him tossing away the few resources he has won't go to waste.

He chips away at the wall in front of him, clenching his hands tight around his pickaxe to stop them from shaking. Ignores the pounding of his heart, the rushing in his ears as he breaks through the rock, pausing to heave in a breath and to check that he hasn't been heard- hasn't been found.

He can't be found, he can’t. He doesn't have long left for this, not long at all, and he can't be yellow. Not yet, it’s too soon. Far, far too soon.

He breaks down the few feet that separates him from the room below, pulling back as soon as the last chunk of rock has been chipped away. He has to let it fall, there’s no way he can grab it back now, just has to watch it plummet and hope no one pays attention to the sound.

He holds his breath, feeling it catch in his lungs until he feels as though he’s going to explode. He watches as Scott turns around and stares at the rock for a long, long moment. Long enough that Martyn thinks he might say something, that he might warn the others.

He doesn't, eyes glancing up, though he can't see him- the rock blocks him from seeing Martyn, tucked away in his little gap in the rock, just large enough for him to crouch in. And then Scott turns back around, and he doesn't say a word. He just listens as the team continues talking, chattering amongst themselves.

He doesn't dare breathe, not even a sigh of relief- it could tell them that he’s still here, that he’s not disappeared away again.

He pulls the first bundle of TNT from his inventory, holding it in shaking hands as he fumbles for his flint and steel, grasping it and bringing it up to the wick, striking it once, twice, three times, hands shaking as he tries to light it, watches as it continues to sputter out before the wick can catch.

And then it does catch, flaring to life with a sizzle and he shoves it away, pulling the next bundle free, lighting this one quicker than the previous. There’s a shout from below- someone spotting the TNT no doubt. But it hasn't exploded yet, he still has time.

He drops the second one.

The third is the easiest to light, and he drops that too, peering over the edge, some morbid curiosity filling him- to see if he can get the kill or not. To see if someone might stray a little too close to the detonating bomb.

But, no. They huddle in a corner, all watching the TNT with wide eyes, watching. Waiting. And then it explodes, and his ears beginning ringing, though not with bloodlust this time. Instead, he blinks, coughing as smoke fills his mouth and makes him choke. He pulls back from the small opening he created, hacking and choking on his own breath as shouts of panic break out below.

He peers in again, still blinking back the tears in his eyes, watches as the rock wall behind where everyone huddles begins to crack, begins to give way beneath the sudden lack of stability and structure.

Scott breaks free first, sprinting across the room and skidding to a halt before throwing himself up the small wall and onto the stairs. Only then does he turn back around, posture stiff and tense, watching as the room begins to flood through the small fissures in the rock.

The TIES groan and grumble at the sudden flooding, kicking through the water and sloshing it around their ankles. And Martyn should move on, should leave now that Scott has thrown him under the bus- they could say something in the general chat at any moment, could condemn him to failing his one task.

But they don't, they continue complaining, continue kicking the water around. And Martyn finds himself far more fascinated about how scared Scott seems to be of the water, backing further and further away from the main room, beginning a slow, jerking path up the stairs, away from the steadily rising water and out of the splash zone of where the TIES have begun splashing water at each other.

Martyn watches Scott, files this odd information into his brain, alongside the way Scott avoids water like the plague. Doesn't even go near it despite having chosen to take up residence in the middle of the ocean, where you are surrounded by water.

And then one of the TIES shouts for his blood- and he knows they can't do that, they can't. It’s against the rules. And yet he flees anyway, squeezing back down the small corridor he’d hewn out, and sprinting for the surface.

He only looks back once he’s a safe distance away, watching as Tango and Skizz patrol the surface of their island and Scott climbs into his boat, and begins rowing back to his own island. Rowing, where someone else would have swam the short distance.

But the curse still lingers, still has its hooks in his mind. And he doesn't have time to sit around and watch Scott act odd, because he has other, far more pressing matters to attend to.

For now, at least.

=== === ===

III.

Scott’s island is bigger than it had been before. Spanning over a larger stretch of land, half-grown shoots of bamboo sticking out of the earth, marking out a perimeter. The leaves rustle gently in the breeze, and a few of the closer sticks of bamboo knock into each other, rattling in the wind.

A door stands at the entryway to the island, though there is no frame surrounding it. Truly, there is nothing but manners stopping him from bypassing the door completely, and stepping around. And also because it is far too comedic to knock on the door as well.

“Hi,” Scott peers around his door, not even bothering to open it. And…he’s wearing an odd crown of coral. Something he hadn't been wearing last time, at least. And the coral hasn't begun to bleach yet, remaining colourful despite being on land.

“Hi.” He responds, peering around the door as well, fist still pressed against the wood from where he’d knocked. The bridge is larger this time, too, more stable than it had been previously. He feels far less like he’s about to take an unwelcome dip into the ocean and far more like he’s going to remain nice and warm and dry.

“Um,” he stares at Scott for a moment longer. “Can I, uh, can I come in? Or,” he allows himself to trail off, still watching Scott. The crown certainly suits him, at least, even though the pinkish-orange colour of the coral is not something he’d ever have considered to go well with cyan.

The door swings open in front of him, and he almost startles at the abruptness of it, jerking his hand back and down to his side. “So,” Scott’s grinning, that grin that makes his teeth look far sharper than they actually are, “you've come crawling back, have you?”

“It’s,” he laughs, inching forward, “It’s not crawling back, it’s…sheepishly wandering in.” He smiles a little as he continues to inch his way forward, sliding past Scott and through the rather narrow ‘doorway’ when Scott doesn't move to stop him from entering. “Look,”

“You abandoned me,” Scott says, frowning. The sadness in his voice is incredibly fake, truly, no one would be buying it. But Martyn has to make a good impression, because this is his only chance at an alliance, and Scott is definitely a good choice for a teammate.

“I didn't abandon you,” he protests.

Scott ignores him. “You came to the coral isles, and then you left.”

“I didn't wanna kill you!” He protests, throwing his arms out. When Scott doesn't try to interrupt him, he continues. “I was already the boogey at that point, yeah, yeah, well done, you guessed it. Whatever. And then you were in the TIES’ hole, and I attempted to kill you, and if you attempt to kill someone then you don't immediately go crawling back to them and ask for an alliance! You leave them to cool down, to work out their frustration for a few hours, and then you come to grovel.”

“You're grovelling right now?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “I've seen better grovelling from a dehydrated plant.”

“Now that’s just hurtful, man.” He presses a hand to his chest. “And I am grovelling, I said sorry.”

“No you didn't.”

“I'm sorry,” he tries. “For, uh, trying to kill you- but in my defence! I was almost out of time, and there was a big group, and I was almost certain that the TNT would have gotten them.”

“It would have, if you threw all of it in at once.” Scott crosses his arms. “Throwing in just one, right after you lit the fuse too, Martyn, means that they had the time to react and then huddle, so the other ones didn't do anything.”

“So, what? I should just hang onto the TNT until it’s about to explode?” He’d have probably blown himself up if he’d done that- he can hardly remember anything from that panic-filled haze, so he doubts his planning skills were actually being used at any point.

“Yes.” Scott says, then sighs. “But I get it,” he shrugs as he turns away, “you were panicked, there’s a lot of pressure. I took out the first person I saw.” Martyn follows after Scott as he moves a little closer to the centre of the island, unsure whether he’s actually welcome to stay here or if Scott’s just humouring him.

“So,” he decides to break the ice, trailing behind Scott. “Can, can I move in?” He scuffs his feet against the ground, and Scott turns at his question. Scott frowns, lips pursed as he looks him up and down again.

“You're wanting to be a coral kid?” Scott asks. He sounds almost…pleasantly surprised.

“Okay, uh,” he laughs, “maybe not a coral kid,” Scott frowns a little deeper, “but I've come back with ideas- name ideas, okay? You know, I've been out and about, travelling the world,” the tiny little world they're confined in for the foreseeable future. “Uh,” he scrambles to keep talking, taking a few steps back from Scott, away from the small area he has set up in the middle of the island. Scott doesn't follow after him, propping a hip against the crafting bench. “I'm older, I'm wiser. I'm smarter,” he nods to himself, glancing back at Scott.

Scott seems to be mildly amused by him, head tilted at a slight angle as he watches him talk, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I've got some name suggestions,” he finishes, giving a little jazz hands as Scott continues to stare at him. He’s got that same eyeshadow on again, glinting around the corners of his eyes. Maybe it’s his new thing for this iteration of the games- people try new things all the time.

“Okay,” Scott drags the word out, but he gestures for him to continue. Martyn is absolutely going to get to stay on this island, thank god.

“Alright,” he rocks forward onto the balls of his feet before rocking back again, “so, obviously, there’s coral kids.” Scott nods his head, “Not too bad, but, you know, I think it makes us sound kinda like pushovers? Uh,” he thinks for a moment, “next one on the list honestly isn't that great either, though, so, damp dudes? Feeling that one?”

Scott clicks his tongue, leaning back on the crafting bench a little further, before shaking his head. “Nope, don't enjoy that one.”

“Alright,” that wasn't his best one, but better to lead with his worst because they can only get better from here on out. Hopefully. “Seeing as this isn't really much of an ocean,” and it isn't, “how about puddle pals?”

“No,” Scott’s response is immediate. “Puddle feels even less,” Scott pulls a face and Martyn gets the message.

“Okay.” Maybe he should have written them all down in a list. He’d spent most of last night brainstorming ideas, hoping to put himself on Scott’s right side and gain a teammate if he can impress him with a team name. “So, I was imagining leather jackets for this next one- like the bad boys’ jackets,”

“You know Jimmy just stole his from Tango, right?” Scott’s grinning, leaning forward a little.

“Really?” He blinks, thinks about it for a moment, then, “Yeah, that makes sense. Timmy doesn't seem like the kind to own a jacket more of a-”

“Denim guy, yeah.” Scott nods his head along, hair falling in front of his eyes before Scott brushes it back again. Martyn finds himself watching Scott for a moment too long before he averts his eyes again, moving a little further around the island. Scott swings his legs over the crafting table to watch him go.

“Alright, us in leather jackets: sons of beaches.” Scott doesn't say anything in response to that one, and when Martyn turns around the other is just staring at him, apparently slightly lost for words. He laughs a little, more out of nervousness at Scott’s silence.

“It’s, hm,” Scott pauses to think. “It’s better than the other two, but, uh.”

“Alright, alright. I've still got a few more,” he nods, even though his list is very rapidly running a little short. “I know you like the film Mean Girls,” Scott nods at that, “so what about Mean Shells?”

Scott tips his head to the side, still staring at Martyn. He stares for long enough, apparently lost enough in thought, that Martyn begins to feel a little flustered beneath Scott’s undivided attention. The green of the man’s eyes is far too intense compared to their normal blue, and it freaks him out. Just a bit.

“I like it,” Scott says, “but I don't know if people will get that reference.” Scott pulls a face, “Mean Gills, would’ve been-”

“Mean Gills!” He bounces a little in place, pointing at Scott and nodding. Scott looks a little taken aback by his enthusiasm, but smiles after a moment anyway. “Yeah, yeah! You've nailed that one there. Mean Gills,” he repeats to himself.

“Did you have any more?” Scott asks.

“Only a couple. What about beauty and the beach?”

“Okay,” Scott nods, “do like that. But which one of us is going to be the beauty and which one of us is gonna be the beach? Because I can tell you right now which one I don't want to be.”

“Oh yeah, alright. What about santa’s little kelpers?” He grins, quite proud of that one.

Scott looks rather unimpressed. “Bit too seasonal.”

“You're a harsh critic, Smajor.” He laughs, “Big buoys? Like, spelt like the, the floating things? B-U-O-Y-S.”

Scott shakes his hand back, side to side. “I think the bad boys would get annoyed with us there, encroaching on their territory and all that. And like, they might be bad at these games, but they've also got full diamond and enchanted armour, so I don't really want to go around annoying them, yeah? Trying not to make enemies just yet.”

“Sal-men?” He tries. His list is dwindling now, though Scott is cracking a smile at a few of these, so it’s not a total loss.

“Oh, no,” Scott shakes his head. “I've had a whole,” he gestures with a flippant hand, “salmon fiasco in the past. Let’s not go there.”

“LGB-Sea?” He says. “Like, like S-E-A?” He laughs a little, because it was a rather bad joke on its own really, but Scott seems to find it funny too because he’s laughing as well, leaning forward on his makeshift seat as he giggles.

“I like the-” Scott laughs again. “LGB-Sea is great.”

“Alright, alright, last one, and maybe we should just lock this one in straight away because I like this one: H-Two-Bros.”

“H-Two-Bros is great,” Scott’s lips are quirked up in a smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles, that blue eyeshadow flashing in the light again. “But I'm kinda torn between that and mean gills.” Scott’s eyes then widen a little. “Not that either of us have gills, though,” he laughs, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “That would be ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows crinkle together. “Neither of us have gills. But we’re going for the ocean-y fish theme, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott nods, “why don't we get Pearl’s opinion on this?”

Pearl’s? The question is half-formed on his tongue before Pearl pops out of the water, spraying it everywhere. Scott is halfway across the island a moment later, looking rather like a startled cat even though he was the one that requested Pearl join them.

Pearl then shakes like a dog, hair and water flying everywhere, hitting him as well. He winces as a stray chunk of hair hits him in the face. He backs up a few steps, away from the edge of the island and the danger zone that is currently surrounding Pearl.

“Ask me what?” She asks, rather cheery.

“We’re choosing a name for the people on this island,” Martyn gestures between him and Scott, who is yet to return from his corner of scared cat-ness. “And we’ve got two contenders currently: Mean Gills and H-Two-Bros.”

“I like Mean Gills better, it’s kinda cute.” Pearl laughs.

The conversation devolves from there, and before he knows it he’s rummaging around in his inventory to find a few bits of gunpowder and handing them over to Pearl. “I cremated her.” He says with a smile, watching as Pearl’s eyes widen slightly, glancing up at him, then back down at the gunpowder.

“I'm leaving,” she says, voice high-pitched. “This is not,” she shakes her head, hopping back into the ocean. She doesn't emerge until she’s several feet away from the island, water splashing as she kicks her way towards the next body of land.

“I don't know what she wanted me to say!” He laughs, though it’s a poor defence, really. Scott laughs a little as well, moving back towards the centre of the island now that Pearl has left. Scott didn't seem to hold any ill will towards Pearl, so Martyn doesn't understand why he avoided her so clearly. “She wants her dead dog from the last games, I don't have anything for her!”

“You could've saved that until she gave me the grass,” Scott frowns. “We only have a little bit now.”

“Eh, it’ll spread in no time.” He assures.

=== === ===

IV.

His hourglass is beginning to come together nicely, even with only the barebones of the structure constructed so far. The chest of resources he’s gathered for this mini project sits a few feet behind him, lid swung open so he doesn't have to keep opening it whilst building.

Scott sits on the small deck chair he’s built for himself, leaning back in it and watching him build. He had been wearing sunglasses, up until the point where Martyn had pointed out that he looked like one of the bad boys and he’d taken them off rather quickly after that.

He’s squinting against the sun as he watches Martyn build, still wearing that eyeshadow despite only getting up half an hour earlier. Martyn hadn't even seen him put it on, but it had been there as soon as he was up, so he must have put it on at some point.

Not that he noticed it immediately. He’s taken to watching Scott recently, but he’s not been staring at his eyes. His eyes might look rather nice, but that doesn't mean Martyn is caught up in staring at them all the time.

“See something you like?” Scott tips his head to the side, eyes still squinted mostly shut. Scott then stretches out on the deck chair, raising one arm above his head. He even winks, just to add to the effect.

“Not really,” he snorts, turning back to his hourglass. He still needs to add most of the glass to it, and that’s definitely going to be the most time-consuming part of this whole affair; he’s going to have to make sure he doesn't bend any of the glass too far and shatter it- why did he decide to build this again? It’s hardly going to be functional and Scott’s beach house is plenty large enough for the two of them. Their beds are side by side in there, too, and he’s not going to be moving out of there any time soon. “Keep dreaming, Scott.”

Scott hums behind him, and he can feel the other man’s eyes on him as he rummages through the chest, collecting as much glass as he can comfortably hold.

“Make sure you don't bend it too far,” Scott says as he starts to place the glass into its frame. “It’s an inflexible material and it will just shatter if you bend it too far.”

“Thanks for that, Scott. I am well aware.”

“Just making sure!” When he looks back Scott’s got his hands raised in surrender, drink held in one of them- when did he get a drink? He stares at Scott for a moment, and Scott stares back at him, before taking a sip from his drink. Where did he even get a straw from? Did he bring it with him?

…Honestly, he can see Scott doing exactly that for a moment like this.

“I just don't want to be the one cleaning you up if you manage to slice your hand open on some of the glass.” Scott shrugs, drink sloshing dangerously against the side of his glass. Scott seems to realise this, jerking the drink away from him hurriedly, before grinning at Martyn.

“I'm hardly going to slice my hand open on the glass,” he snorts. “What do you take me for, some kind of idiot?”

“Just remember that I dated Jimmy for a while, okay?” Scott says. Martyn takes his momentary distraction to slot a few of the glass panes in without any judgement or commentary. He’s all for ribbing at someone, but Scott takes it to an entirely new, rather impressive, level. “Love the guy, he’s great, but he was rather accident prone. I'm just making sure you don't hurt yourself.”

“Giving me the boyfriend treatment, Smajor?” He calls back, picking up the next piece of glass, bending it ever so slightly, careful with the amount of force he applies as he begins slotting it into its place.

“If you want, I've been told I'm rather good.”

The glass breaks in his hands, unable to withstand the sudden increase in pressure from his grip. And, hm. He stares down at his hands, brain not quite registering the pain yet, only that there is a lot of red. Probably a bit more than there should be.

“Scott?” He calls, not turning back around. Scott hasn't made any quip about him breaking the glass, so Martyn doubts he actually heard the glass breaking.

“Yeah,” Martyn can hear the rattling of ice against glass.

“Can you get tetanus from glass?” He asks. The pain is beginning to filter through his system, overtaking the shock and adrenaline of moments later to begin stinging. And then burning, a little.

“Uh,” Scott goes silent for a moment. “I don't think so?”

“That’s good.” He nods along. That is quite a bit of blood, and he thinks he might be going a bit light-headed from the blood loss. “You gotta promise not to make fun of me, alright?”

“I am not promising that.” Scott says. He can hear someone standing up. “Turn around, Martyn.”

He does, not sure what else to do. Scott is only a few inches from him when he turns around, and it’s enough to make him startle. Scott frowns at him for a moment- and they're both far closer than they've been during Martyn’s small stay here, and he can see the eyeshadow up close now, and it almost looks like-

“What did I tell you?” Scott interrupts his thoughts, and he snaps back into focus, slightly.

“Lots of things.”

“About the glass,” Scott stresses, grabbing his hand and shaking that as well a moment.

“Oh, yeah, don't bend it.”

“And what did you do?” Scott asks.

“Bend it?” He responds. “Look, man, I just wanna sit down, alright? I'm not…feeling great.”

“Yeah, no shit, Martyn. Look at this!” He shakes Martyn’s hand around a little, fingers smearing with blood. “This is why we don't play around with glass.”

“It’s your fault, anyway.” He frowns at Scott. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you.” Scott deadpans. “And so it’s my fault.”

“Exactly.” He tries to point at Scott, but Scott is still holding one of his wrists, so the movement is far less confident and smooth than he had been hoping it would be.

“God, you're worse than Jimmy.” Scott drags a hand down his face. And his hand had blood on it, meaning he’s just smearing blood over his face. “How are you worse than Jimmy?”

“I take offence at that.”

“You can take offence at it when you're not about to pass out at the sight of some blood.”

“I'm not about to pass out,” he scoffs. Or tries to. He doesn't actually know how convincing it is, because everything sounds like it’s underwater. “It’s the blood loss.”

“You have not lost enough blood to feel dizzy.” Scott tells him, still gripping his wrist. “You're just squeamish.”

“Am not.” He tugs at the grip Scott’s got on him. “No way I’d have made it through so, so many of these games if I was squeamish.” It’s the blood loss- the same blood loss that is making the world spin around him like everything just’s been cranked up really high on speed, and his eyes ache with it.

“Martyn,” Scott sighs, but his voice is really muffled, and, wow, is that the ocean? The water is always super warm around here, he’s pretty sure it’s because of the biome they're in, but he always enjoys it. It’s like a slightly colder than usual bath- still warm but not too warm.

And it’s just as warm this time as he sinks into it, breath escaping him in a bubbly sigh.

There’s a loud splashing sound above him, and he squints his eyes open, but the saltwater makes everything blurry, and his eyes hurt already, so he squints them shut again. Something grabs at his arm, yanking him upwards.

And he resists, because this water is really warm and nice, and he actually rather likes it, really. Whatever is dragging him around, though, doesn't seem to care what he thinks, but he’s unceremoniously pushed onto dry land a moment later.

He breathes in, coughing a little and squinting his eyes open to watch as he coughs up water. His throat feels dry and scratchy, and his vision is still blurry. Blurry enough that he can't see much beyond vague shapes and colours.

Something moves in front of him, a little water lapping at his fingers as he opens his eyes a little more to try and get a better look at the- whatever it is in front of him. There’s a flash of deep blue, and then the whatever-it-was thing is gone. Huh.

Something flicks him on the forehead, and he blinks his eyes open again, finding that he’s lying on something far softer than the dirt ground, and blinking up at Scott. Scott is staring down at him, eyes flicking over his face, before he leans back so there’s more than just an inch of space between them.

“Good to see you're awake.” Scott says.

“When did I fall asleep?” He asks, going to push himself up, only to wince when sharp pain lances through his hand. He hisses beneath his breath, easing his weight off that hand.

“You didn't.” Scott smiles at him, but it’s the kind of smile someone wears when they're trying to hold back a laugh. “I didn't know you were squeamish.”

“I'm not.”

“Then why did you pass out at the sight of blood?” Scott asks, head tilting to the side. The bandages around Martyn’s fingers make them feel thick and clumsy, and the pain that sparks through his palm every time he flexes them is enough to stop him from moving that hand too much. “Sounds like you're pretty squeamish to me.”

“I'm not.” He protests, though his attempts seem to be in vain because Scott has actually started laughing at him now.

“Mhm,” Scott nods. “Seems like your hourglass is going on hiatus for a short while.”

“Ugh,” he lets his head drop back to the pillow, staring up at the sky. It’s cloudless. “Did I fall in the water?” He asks, after a moment.

“Yes, why?”

“My clothes feel all…disgusting.”

“Well, I didn't wash them for you. I'm not your personal servant.” Scott pokes him on the arm, just hard enough to hurt.

“Never said you were,” he rubs at his arm absently, frowning at Scott. “Did you see any big fish while I was attempting to drown myself?”

“Big…fish?” Scott’s back has gone a little stiff, and he looks down at Martyn with confusion.

“Yeah, kinda blue-y. Didn't see it for long, but.” He shrugs, which is actually a lot more difficult to do lying down than he thought it would be.

“No, I didn't see anything like that.”

“Hm.” Is all Martyn says in response. He doesn't buy it for one moment, but Scott’s stiffer than a stick of bamboo, and he knows when to leave well enough alone. “Alright then.”

=== === ===

V.

He wakes up to something that is very much so silence, but there was also definitely something that just woke him up- something that was not silence. But it’s dark, and the moon is just past a new moon, meaning he is blind and left scrambling around in the dark for a light source that might reveal what just made a noise and then abruptly stopped making noise.

He fumbles around for a few moments longer, attempting to find a light source- any kind will do, really, he just wants to be able to see rather than scramble around helplessly and hope that it’s not someone come to kill him. Oh god, he hopes it’s not someone come to kill him.

He manages to find a torch eventually, hands closing tightly around it, before he begins another search for something to light it with. It takes him several more long and painful moments to find something to light it with. Because it is dark, and he is blind.

When he does light it, he almost expects to find someone looming over him, before unseen in the darkness now brought into the light and silhouetted by the moon before they kill him where he sleeps. But the torch doesn't light up any ominous figure, and it doesn't reflect off of any weaponry either.

He relaxes a little, laughing to himself slightly as he slumps down into his bed. He’s careful to keep the torch away from his bedsheets, as he’d rather not accidentally set himself on fire. He’s had enough accidents in the past few days, and his hand is still sore and tender from his most recent stunt.

But he still hasn't found whatever it was that woke him up in the first place- and it wouldn't have been the bamboo or sugarcane shaking in the breeze either, because he’s gotten used to the quiet sounds they make when the breeze leaps over the water and towards them- hard not to get used to them when he’s constantly surrounded by the sound.

The sound of the waves against the edges of the island also hadn't bothered him beyond the first night, where he’d had to cover his ears with his pillow because he just couldn't sleep and the waves didn't stop. But he can tune them out easily now, and it becomes just another part of the background noise of their island.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to look around, because he is being far, far, too paranoid for his own good, really. No one has even gone red yet! It’s way too early for someone to be red, and the next boogeyman hasn't even been picked yet. So, really, the only thing he’s got to worry about is Skizz. And he highly doubts Skizz is going to make a trip over to their base in the middle of the night to murder him in his sleep. Especially when Scott is right next to him and it would be two-versus-one-

Or, it would be, if Scott was currently in his bed. Which he’s not. The bedsheets are pushed down to the bottom of the bed, lying in a crumpled heap that is a far cry from the way Scott normally makes his bed (Martyn’s convinced Scott does it just to shame him into making his bed as well. Which won't work! It’s been tried before, and it’s not going to start working now, of all times).

But the bed has obviously been slept in, which Martyn also knows because they’d gone to bed at the same time after putting the campfire out. Martyn had chucked a bucket of water over it for good measure, aware of how easily the fire could spread to the grass and then they’d be toast - literally.

He does a cursory glance around the island, holding the torch up a little higher as he peers around. But it’s not a very big island, and the only potential hiding spots are behind his hourglass (which is see-through) and behind the chests (which is just dumb). And Scott is nowhere to be seen, even as Martyn looks around again, in case he missed something on his first sweep.

But the results remain the same, and Scott is nowhere to be seen. But, when he presses a hand to Scott’s bed, it’s still warm, meaning he can't have been gone for very long. Which also means that Scott moving about was probably what woke him up in the first place.

The circumstances are still odd, but Scott has had multiple chances to let him die over the past few days, so he’s feeling rather secure in their alliance right now.

Scott’s mysterious disappearance aside, he’s awake now, and rather unlikely to go back to sleep anytime soon. Especially as Scott is still gone, and he probably won't be able to relax until the other returns. Safety in numbers, and all that. If it’s just him on his own, he’s much more vulnerable to an attack, but if Scott’s here, then there’s two of them, and they can both make sure the other doesn't die in a stupid way.

And he might also be a little worried.

Sue him! His teammate disappears in the middle of the night without so much as a word, a note, or even a private message to let him know where he’s gone. Instead, he’s left on an island in the pitch dark with no knowledge about his teammate’s whereabouts.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, shuffling towards where he’d kicked his sandals off earlier. The sound of his feet against the wooden boards is barely audible. He slips the sandals on easily, stepping down onto the grass a moment later, beginning to putter around their area.

Some of the sugar cane has grown tall enough to be harvested, and so he chops a few of the stems, bundling them together in one hand as he moves onto the next plant, repeating the process. Once he has enough sugarcane that he can't carry any more, he meanders over to their chests, dumping the sugarcane inside, organising it slightly so Scott doesn't complain about it in the morning.

He goes back over to the next section of sugarcane that has grown enough, cutting the stems again, repeating until he can't carry anymore. He returns to the chest with his second load. He doesn't return to cutting the sugarcane after that, mainly because there isn't any more sugarcane to cut, but also because Scott isn't back yet, and he’s beginning to get more than a little worried about his wellbeing.

He sits at the edge of their island, in a small gap he’s created in the bamboo and sugarcane, for easy access for boats from the rear of the island- perfect for a quick escape if they ever needed to make one.

He allows his legs to trail through the water, kicking them back and forth, watching as it laps at his knees, the waves breaking before they reach the very edge of the island. The water is as warm as it always is, just a little bit cooler than a hot bath, but it’s darker than it usually is as well.

During the day, the waters are a crystalline blue, allowing them to see to the very bottom. He’s spent more than a few hours sat watching the wildlife dart in and out of the coral, tracking the shimmering shoals of fish that make their slow way through the coral reef.

He can hardly see the coral now, only vague shapes clustered together, some of them stretching up higher than the others. He can't see anything swimming between the bits of coral, but that doesn't mean that there’s nothing down there- there is almost certainly something that he can't see.

Even the faint glow of the sea pickles is hardly enough to light up the seabed, only a small pool of light around each one that’s so dim he can hardly see it.

He continues to sit there, ignoring thoughts of something swimming up and grabbing his ankle to pull him into the depths- there’s not going to be anything large enough to do that to him, and a small clownfish isn't going to be big enough to eat him, even if it tries its very best.

The water is soothing, at least, and he allows himself to stare at the small ripples, forgetting about his worry for a brief moment.

At least, he manages to forget about it until he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He freezes, hands twisting into the grass at his side, threatening to uproot it. He watches as the shape moves, glittering scales outlining the apparent size of the thing.

It’s…large. Very big. Easily half the length of their entire island, if not a bit over. And things that big are hardly ever herbivores. And it is with that thought that he rather hurriedly pulls his legs out of the water, standing up. He doesn't move away from the edge, though, watching as the shimmering scales- bioluminescent, his brain reminds him, continue to circle around the island, almost lazily, before disappearing from sight.

He swallows, brain flashing to all worst-case scenarios. All of which involve him still being stood at the edge of the island when that…whatever it was reappears.

He backpedals, maybe a little hastily, and it might be stupid to feel a little safer when he’s back in his bed, sandals kicked off at the bottom of it. But Martyn has long since accepted that he might be a little stupid.

That feeling of safety doesn't help him get much sleep, though. But he must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he wakes up Scott is back, and he’s handing him a mug of coffee almost immediately- and Scott is definitely a godsend at times like this, he can't even deny it.

He doesn't ask where Scott went the previous night, and Scott doesn't offer any explanations. He also puts the sea monster (he is perfectly justified in calling it that! He doesn't know what it is!) out of his mind as best as he can.

And his best is almost good enough for him to completely forget about it

=== === ===

VI.

In all honesty, he had expected Scott’s suspicious behaviour to have more of a dramatic conclusion to it- something that would be shocking and just! Something different from what actually happened, at least. Because the way it happened is possibly the most stupid way Martyn has found out someone’s big and terrible secret (and he’s discovered several big secrets, each of which had far more explosive endings than this one did).

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, both of his arms full of the logs Martyn had left to collect because they were running low, and he rather enjoys their evenings around the fire with nothing but the crackling flames between them, which cast a rather complimentary light onto Scott’s face and makes the eyeshadow he wears glow even brighter than normal.

He makes direct eye contact with Scott, and Scott stares back at him. Scott is dripping wet, arms braced on the edge of their grassy island and in the process of hauling himself up. Scott is staring at him, and Martyn continues to stare back at him. Scott is covered in scales, deep blue scales that are really quite familiar-

Scott disappears with a small splash. Martyn drops the logs, not really caring if they land on the island or roll merrily into the water, instead sprinting over to the other side of the island and dropping to the ground, peering down into the water, hoping to catch any glimpse of Scott.

There’s a flash of blue scales between two things of coral, and he spares about a second to think through his idea before he’s kicking his sandals in and dropping his jacket off. He hesitates for a millisecond after that, and then simply dives in, plunging beneath the surface.

The one thing he appreciates about this biome is that the water is never a cold shock. The worst part about diving into water is always the cold shock, but the water here is warm, meaning he doesn't have to regather his bearings before he starts swimming after Scott.

It takes him a few seconds to realise that there is absolutely no way he’s going to catch up with Scott when the man is some kind of aquatic hybrid adapted for swimming. And he’s struggling to catch up with the other man for god’s sake.

He swims between the pieces of coral he had seen Scott swim between, ignoring the burn that’s beginning in his lungs, glancing around and squinting for any flicker of scales that would betray Scott’s whereabouts.

Something grabs him from behind, and he thrashes around for a moment, bubbles spilling from his mouth, and he almost inhales again on instinct before realising that he’s underwater, and that he definitely can't breathe underwater.

He breaks the surface, gasping for air as the grip on his arm remains iron, keeping him afloat as he regains his breath. He hadn't even realised his vision had started greying out a little until it began to clear up.

“Man,” he laughs. “I have gotta stop drowning myself, huh?”

“You are so incredibly stupid!” Scott responds, voice growling as he yells at him. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

“Wasn't, really.” He would shrug, but he’d also rather not accidentally submerge himself again, so he settles for a grin.

“I just-” Scott cuts himself off, shaking his head. It’s then that Martyn really gets an opportunity to take Scott in, eyes drifting over his face, taking in every small detail. He can see now, closer, that the eyeshadow that decorates the edges of Scott’s eyes isn't actually eyeshadow and is instead small scales. Scales which now spread to cover his cheeks and nose like some kind of freckle. Like, deep blue freckles.

In contrast, the fins at the side of his head are an orange-pink, fluttering slightly in agitation as they fan open before snapping shut again. The membrane of them is thin enough that he can see the sunlight filtering through them, making them almost glow.

“Huh.” He says, which is apparently enough to get Scott’s attention.

“Are you even listening to me?” Scott asks, and, huh, he didn't know Scott could growl like that.

“Not really,” he says. “I'm more caught up in your whole.” He gestures, because he doesn't really have words for what he’s thinking or feeling right now.

Scott’s eyes narrow and he pulls the arm supporting Martyn back, meaning he has to work to keep his head afloat. He reaches out for Scott again, grabbing onto his shoulders- and, oh wow, he’s not wearing a shirt. Like, at all. Huh.

He stares at Scott’s chest, and the scales covering large parts of it. They glint in the sunlight, wet from the water, which only makes them shine even more. They're smooth beneath his hand, and he finds himself rubbing a thumb back and forth over Scott’s shoulder without even thinking about it.

“Martyn,” Scott’s voice is half-strangled as he speaks, and when Martyn looks back at his face, away from the tail he had just noticed, he finds that Scott’s fins are pressed flat against his head, face faintly pink.

“Ah, sorry.” He stops rubbing his thumb over the scales on Scott’s shoulder, even though the pink flush of his face is really quite pretty- and. He’s not going to think about that one too hard, actually.

“It’s fine they're just,” Scott clears his throat, “sensitive.” One of Scott’s hands comes to rest beneath his elbow, supporting him a little more. “Aren't you a little- y’know, unnerved?”

“By what?”

“The whole scales and fishtail thing?” Scott quirks an eyebrow. “Normally people run screaming the other way.”

“I was more worried you were gonna freak out, honestly.” Martyn confesses. You looked a bit stressed before you just ducked back under.”

“Well, I am fine.” Scott clears his throat again, glancing away. “As lovely as this conversation is, I’d rather not be caught looking like this.”

“Why not? You look quite nice, honestly.”

“I- what?” The pink flush staining Scott’s cheeks is only barely visible beneath the scales covering most of them, but the scale-less parts of his neck and shoulders have turned pink as well.

“Aw, c’mon, Scott,” he leans a little closer, which isn't actually all that hard with their current positions. “You've been flirting with me for several days now, don't think I didn't notice.”

“I am a fish, Martyn.” Scott deadpans. “I am a literal fish and you're still absolutely onboard with this.”

“Absolutely still onboard with this, besides.” He rubs his thumb over Scott’s shoulder again, summoning his confidence with the action as he leans a little closer, close enough for their noses to brush. “You look really quite lovely right now- I thought you were wearing some really nice eyeshadow this whole time, and instead it’s these wonderful scales.”

“Martyn, stop, you're being ridiculous.”

“Aw, Scott.” He frowns as Scott pushes him away.

“I am not kissing you while we’re both in the middle of the ocean.” Scott says. “Also you stink of sweat.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.” Scott pats him on the cheek. “You've been chopping trees all morning, and you're definitely flattering me right now; but I also have standards, and those standards include not kissing people that smell of sweat.”

“You're so rude to me, and after I was so nice to you.”

“I’ll be nice to you once you don't smell of sweat, dear.”

[lostalleycat]

"If only some people can have it, it's not happiness. It's just nonsense. Happiness is something anyone can have."

Monster / 怪物 — dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda (2023)

This is one of the most beautiful and devastating stories about queerness that relate so painfully much to me. I feel completely obliterated.

There's a world you're living in. No one else has your part. All God's children in the wind take it in and blow real hard. —There's A World, Sufjan Stevens (2023)

But here, in our place we have for the day, can we stay a while and listen for heaven? —Heaven, Mitski (2023)

And nothing comforts me the same as my brave friend who says, "I don't care if forever never comes. 'Cause I'm holding out for that teenage feeling." —That Teenage Feeling, Neko Case (2006)

Everybody finds love in the end. —桜流し Sakura Nagashi, Utada Hikaru (2012)

Was it never enough that we should simply want to be together? —Heavenly Creatures, Wolf Alice (2014)

And I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why. I think you should come live with me and we could be pirates and you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet. Just like a folk song, our love will be passed on. —Seven, Taylor Swift (2020)

I know you're afraid of living in pain, but you'll be okay. We'll find out a way. Nobody to blame. You're here and you're safe. Whenever you need me, I'll always be there. —Coming Home, Isyana Sarasvati (2023)

When I die of love, I want to be settled down into a fiery crown amongst the flowery days. —Flowery days, Christine and the Queens (2023)

 いつか 世界は目を醒まして  Someday the world will wake up わたしたちを照らして and shine on us. —Sleep Among Endives, Ichiko Aoba (2021)

Rest in liberation, Yori, Minato.

[goldenn-moments]

things I need in young royals s3:

• "I love you" "I love you too"

• MORE👏🏼GOLDEN👏🏼MOMENTS👏🏼

• wille in the eriksson house, at home and at ease w at least simon and linda (maybe even Malin included??👀👀)

• simon in the palace, learning the crooks and crannies of the spots of the castle that wille found comfort in as a child (plus an awkward dinner w the in laws, hopefully followed by a royal bedroom scene, if yknow what I mean)

• rosh and ayub seeing wille again and simon being like "guys he's it for me" and the whole reconciliation that I'm sure will have to happen etc etc

• maddie becoming friends w simon and henry and walter being friendlier to simon, including him more - BASICALLY people at hillerska actually valuing simon for once, omfgs

• on the note of hillerska people, felice and simon teaming up to tease wille AT LEAST once. at least. they have so much material it would literally be criminal for them to not tease wille until he's giggling and red in the face

• more hand holding (so much. an obscene amount, actually)

• as edvin said, wille and simon smiling together

• sara redemption, but I kinda want that to be left open ended bc I doubt simon will forgive her all that easily (he will, inevitably. it's who he is. but he's put her first so many times, I want him to pit himself first for once)

• SIMON FINALLY ALLOWING SOMEONE (aka wille) TO FULLY COMFORT HIM AS HE BREAKS DOWN (I just want my boy to have a nice cry and then get all the hugs from wille)

• wille and simon being together in public and not giving a fuck (I mean, obvi they'll care abt being in the public eye. but they won't have to hide, and they'll revel in that, and that's what matters)

• STELLA AND FREDRIKA CONFESSION SCENE + DRAMATIC KISS

• on that note, also wilmon dramatic kiss (in the rain, after something intense happened, or when they're just horny as fuck I DONT CARE. just give me intense wilmon kisses I can use for edits please and thank)

• more exploration into simons family life (which I think we'll get w the sara arc, however they take it), like giving linda more screen time and bc they're probably gonna bring micke back, someone defending simon from micke if he needs it

• wille telling simon abt erik (and maybe even flashbacks??)

• august getting what's fucking coming to him

• wille AND simon breaking the fourth wall (preferably in the beginning of the first ep, bc I kinda want it to end w them walking away from us. but I'd be so down for the series ending w them both smiling at us)

• a look into how the public is reacting - ngl I wanna see the social media comments, the articles, their friends dissing those who are slandering them and at the same time showing them all the public support (I know) they're getting

• far fetched, but maybe a scene where wille and simon are having a Moment (maybe with simon in the palace👀👀) and krissy accidentally sees it and starts to finally fucking understand that taking simon away/denying him is taking away/denying her only remaining son's happiness (I imagine this taking place after an awkward dinner w the in laws)

• a celebration/party scene where wilmon are together and don't have to stare at each other from across a room or hide somewhere in order to be together

• wille defending simon (against their fellow hillerska students, the royal court, hell even micke, idc)

• simon defending wille (against someone from bjärstad who's making assumptions, krissy, the royal court, any of those idc)

-- basically the boys fighting for each other always

• THEM👏🏼AGAINST👏🏼THE👏🏼WORLD👏🏼

• more protective wille bc wille while he's being Crown Prince Wilhelm??? godDAMN

• simon and wille happy under the sun

• kinda related, maybe simon looking like he has a halo through some trick of the light??? paralleling to his glowstick halo in s1???

• wille panicking and simon being there (wille no longer having to be alone when the world gets too much) (do not enter is written on the doorway, why can't everyone just go away? except you - you can stay)

• wille and simon goofing around and being silly, maybe like trying to cook or trying to study or trying to actually play a video game and constantly getting distracted by each other

• simon getting his daily dose of wille's scent, lmao

• SIMON AND WILLE DANCING. dancing alone in one of their rooms, giggling and tripping on each other and swaying back and forth, wille humming a song he wants simon to sing and simon giggling and singing for him. the kind of dance that isn't for anyone but themselves, where they're wrapped around each other and blissfully in love, unable to stop smiling as they twirl each other around (I also wouldn't say no to a formal dance, like a waltz, where they're dancing together in a ballroom or some shit but the whole world melts away until it's just them. or a party scene where they're w all their classmates but they only have eyes for each other. those would be nice too)

• casual touch. so much casual touch. casually holding hands while walking, one of them resting their chin on the other's shoulder as they talk to friends, an arm around the others waist as they stand, sitting in each other's laps while working in a public space, one laying their head in the other's lap, leaning against each other as other things are happening around them. just - wille and simon being casually physically affectionate and always having each other to lean on, in all ways (and ofc, them always being wrapped up around each other. I'm sure wille's need to be close to simon will help me get this)

• henry continuing his curse of being a cockblock (and someone calling him out on it, lmaoo)

• boris. I want more of boris. give me a whole episode w just boris talking to wille and simon, idc, he's amazing and I adore him

• also more of the choir teacher!!! she believes in simon and I want to see her support him more

• simon singing more and flourishing even more in that area (and wille being a love struck fool every time simon sings even one note)

• MORE THAN SIX EPISODES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

• simon and wille getting invited to a girls night

• simon!!! in!!! makeup!!!! (yes, I'm aware this will likely kill wille. both wille and I are prepared to make that sacrifice if it means seeing simon in at least some eyeliner)

• simon and wille pissing of jan-olof and getting the last laugh

• actually, I wanna see jan-olof just croak. just let him die. it's what he deserves😌

• wille and simon having a good support system

• wille's album for simon growing and being able to see the album that I KNOW simon has of wille on his phone

• wille getting his sweater back and teasing simon abt it

• in general, many pretty, cinematic shots of simon and wille just generally being in love

• random, but what happens to my boy rousseau, who didn't deserve all this drama when he's just a horse who wants to eat hay and run free😔

• simon and wille being regular teenagers and being a little stupid around each other hut that's okay bc they're in love

• a parallel to their first meeting, with simon speaking up abt a social issue that these rich kids have no real idea abt, but this time wille chimes in and adds his thoughts and simon just beams at him, and wille can't help but grin bc he's finally saying what he wants to say, tradition be damned

• kinda random but simon interacting w a kid and wille, despite not liking kids all that much, just melting (I will accept simon being cute in general in substitute)

• oh, so out of left field but more of simon's extended family??? like I saw a post on here abt what linda was saying on the phone in the background of one scene, and like she was talking abt a get together??? idk man, I just want simon talking more spanish

• to go off of that, simon teasing wille and spanish and one of two things happening: 1) wille combusts and dies bc simon is killing him w that, or 2) wille surprising simon and speaking back in spanish bc he had to learn it bc he's a royal and simon combusting instead. I would like either variation please and thank

• linda being wille's mom. ik she's not perfect but I just read a fic where he called linda mama and she hugged him and he said "I love you mama" and I kinda want something like that in canon now, ngl

• OH, on the note of linda - her realizing the pressure simon takes upon himself and trying to lighten his burden bc he's her child and should be carrying it all

• wille picking up simon. we know he can do it. so let him, let him pick up his boy whenever he feels like it

• wille and simon playing with each other's hair PLEASE

• I saw a post say that simon should take up fencing to get that extra credit, and now I NEED simon w any kinda sword. please. omar, do a photoshoot or smth, I'm not above begging

• more power walks from simon and wille

• simon and wille being a power couple in general (I'm thinking twin judgemental stares as they stand w each other, glaring and backing each other up, a team in every way possible)

• just,,,, them. against the world. no matter what comes their way

thank you so so much to @mirabel-on-a-bicycle @darktwistedgenderplural @tagalongifyoudare and @retrieve-the-kraken for encouraging me to post this <3 yall are amazing

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Fossil Novembirb 2: The Survivors

The End-Cretaceous Extinction was one of the most devastating - and tragic - events on our planet.

In the blink of an eye, the world changed from a thriving biosphere to a decimated one. The asteroid caused worldwide wildfires, tsunamis, and the dramatic release of particles into the air that blocked out the sun.

Nothing over 25 kg could survive, because they had nowhere to hide from the devastation. Anything under that limit had to have somewhere to hide - water or burrowing worked best - and something to eat, which was easier said than done. When the plants can't eat, nothing can.

And yet, life survived - not just life, but dinosaurs themselves!

Conflicto, by @otussketching

In fact, one of the first fossils we have from the Cenozoic is Conflicto, a Presbyornithid - like "Styginetta" and Teviornis yesterday! - from Antarctica

Why these dinosaurs, and no others?

They had beaks, which would have helped them to access available food sources such as seeds and spores (plant material in a protective casing)

They did not live in trees, but usually near or with water - perfect places to hide

They were powerful fliers, allowing them to escape the flames and whatever else they needed to

Other than that? Random chance.

Much of the evolution of life on this planet is down to Sheer Dumb Luck

Tsidiiyazhi by Sean Murtha

What happened next was truly remarkable: an adaptive radiation of dinosaurs the likes of which is rarely seen

With all of those newly opened niches, Neornithines adapted quickly, so quickly we can't actually figure out how different major groups of Neoavians - aka, most birds - actually relate to one another.

After all, there was just *so much* free real estate!

Qianshanornis by @alphynix

In fact, many of these dinosaurs evolved right back into niches that their ancestors had famously lived in - penguins show up so quickly that we're giving marine birds their own day, replacing the now-lost Hesperornithines; Tsidiiyazhi and others quickly replaced the empty tree-bird niches left behind by the lost Enantiornithines; and raptors show up quickly too, already reminiscent of the lost Dromaeosaurs.

Qianshanornis, a mysterious raptor from China, had sickle claws just like its lost bretheren! In fact, it looks like it might be a Cariamiform, a group of dinosaurs including living Seriemas and the extinct Terror Birds, which often have sickle claws like Dromaeosaurs did!

Don't fix what isn't broken, I guess!

Australornis by @thewoodparable

Non-Neoavians diversified too, with fowl doing just fine across the boundary - Presbyornithids like Conflicto, as well as mysterious forms like Australornis.

Palaeognaths remain weirdly absent, but don't worry - the earilest ones will show up before the Paleocene epoch is done!

The Cenozoic begins with the Paleogene Period, which has the first epoch of the Paleocene - this was a climatic quagmire, with frequent fluctuations at the beginning before a dramatic rise in temperatures at the end. This climate confusion would affect bird evolution greatly - and lead to the diversification of many kinds, some of which we still have today!

Sources:

Ksepka, D. T., T. A. Stidham, T. E. Williamson. 2017. Early Paleocene landbird supports rapid phylogenetic and morphological diversification of crown birds after the K-PG mass extinction. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 114 (30): 8047 - 8052.

Mayr, 2022. Paleogene Fossil Birds, 2nd Edition. Springer Cham.

Mayr, 2017. Avian Evolution: The Fossil Record of Birds and its Paleobiological Significance (TOPA Topics in Paleobiology). Wiley Blackwell.

[olenvasynyt]

Why I don't like Vassien

People always say that Lucien blushing when he mentions Vassa is proof that he is in love with her.  He is also relaxed around her, laughs with her and listens to her with a smile on his face.

Chapter 80 of ACOWAR: Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly…Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened.

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: “I think he'd have been crowned king by now if it weren't for Vassa." A twitch of his lips, a spark in that russet eye.

The second quote can immediately be dismissed because the spark is not hinting at love or a mating bond like some people imply, it’s used to describe a character knowing something. Because a spark is seen in Amarantha’s eye when Rhys kisses Feyre and Rhys later explains that that is when Amarantha knew he liked Feyre.  

Chapter 42 of ACOTAR: Rhys casually released me with a flick of his tongue over my bottom lip as a crowd of High Fae appeared behind Amarantha…but something sparked in the queen’s eyes as she looked at Rhysand.  Amarantha’s whore, they’d called him.

Chapter 54 of ACOMAF: Amarantha saw that jealousy.  She saw me kissing you to hide the evidence, but she saw why.  For the first time, she saw why.  So that night after I left you, I had to…service her.

In SJMs works, a spark in a person’s eyes is a spark of recognition, not a spark of love, imo.

Lucien does like Vassa.  As a friend.  And as a leader he wants to follow.  Because with the blushing: he was blushing in ACOFAS because he was talking about another female around Elain and he didn't want her to think he has feelings for someone else.  

Feyre acknowledges how loyal he is to his mate:

Chapter 5 of ACOWAR: I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

And Lucien asks Feyre not to tell Elain about him completing the Rite with Ianthe. 

Chapter 3 of ACOWAR: “I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court.  I went of my own free will.  And we completed the Rite.” “Please don’t tell Elain,” he said.  “When we—when we find her again,” he amended.

The dude was fucking SAed and his first thought is Elain.

Chapter 9 of ACOWAR: “I was obligated to preform the Rite,” Lucien snapped.  “That night wasn’t the product of desire, believe me.” “We had fun, you and I.” “I’m a mated male now.”

 He is "a mated male now". He is oyal to his mate, and his mate only.  

Lucien is loyal and the idea that he and Vassa are / could be a thing is dismissing that, and it also dismisses who Vassa is.  Because Lucien is not only loyal to his mate, but also to people he believes are good rulers.  

Mor and Cassian talk about  Lucien having some biases because he hangs out in the Human Lands in the band of exiles.

Chapter 4 of ACOSF: “Lucien can’t entirely be trusted anymore…Even with Elain, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa.  He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary.  As their friend.” He’s spent months helping them sort out the politics of who rules Prythian’s slice of the human lands,” Cassian said slowly, “So Lucien can’t be unbiased in reporting to us on Vassa.”

I think Lucien talks highly of Vassa, not only because he’s her friend, but because he admires her as a ruler.  If we are going to apply that logic of a person thinking highly of someone as proof they are attracted to them, then Cassian is also attracted to Rhys because he thinks and talks about him highly and he is also very biased.

And Vassa is a leader / co-member of the Band of Exiles so they are friends.  Him laughing with her and enjoying her company was something we see between him and Feyre in ACOTAR.

"But Lucien laughs so that means he loves her!" No, it means he finally has true friends, people he relates to and enjoys the company of.

Another reason why I do not like the idea of Vassien being a thing is people say that Vassien will be Lucien's HEA and he deserves to be with someone who loves him, but the huge thing here is: Vassa is human, he is Fae.  She will die centuries before him, and Lucien will be back to living alone, knowing that his mate is still out there.  How is that a happy ending?

And the solution people make is Vassa will be turned into Fae, but this is taking away some key points of Vassa's character.  

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: I had not forgotten her plea to me that night after the last battle with Hybern.  To break the curse that kept her human by night, firebird by day.  A once-proud queen—still proud, yes, but desperate to reclaim her freedom.  Her human body.  Her kingdom.

Those last two points: human body and kingdom.

Her becoming Fae would ruin her being a human queen, especially when we think about the fact that Lucien being the heir to the Day Court will be a big part of his character.  If Vassa is turned into a Fae, would she go be with them and abandon her role as queen of the human lands?  Or would she and Lucien be separated, and she would be Fae queen of the human lands and Lucien High Lord of the Day Court?  

Vassien has absolutely no appeal for me.  And if I'm being honest, it's a ship because people want Lucien out of the way and this is the happiest story they can come up with for him, despite it going against his character, Vassa's character, and SJM's writing.