#without people wondering what the dynasty wanted with All That and the answer is that the dynasty was just not involved. it was all essek

[empyreanwizard]

about miquella's kidnapping, you know the charm only works if miq gets really close in your face (see heart stolen + freyja's account of being healed) and it doesn't do a 180° in your personality (the npcs in the shadow realm are there to show us how it affects them and we can see it didn't change their personality) what the charm does is: make you non-violent (see heart stolen) makes you forget bad things (see leda and ansbach remembering "cascading sheets of blood" after the charm is broken)

if anything, I'd say the charm would've made him more sane, take thioller for example he's completely obsessed with trina after the charm is broken, to the point where he tries to kill you after she talks to you

compare thioller's dialogue:

"i am her chosen, not you. only I can doze off in the sea of st. trina"

and

"only i am allowed to know. of your velvety sleep. its sweetly gentle embrace. so please, smile—for me, and only me." (st. trina's smile)

to mohg's dialogue:

"miquella is mine and mine alone"

both are possessive and obsessed. miquella's charm nullified thioller's obsession, and I have no reason to believe miquella can just pick and choose the side effects his charm will have.

my points on why miquella did not want to be kidnapped

1 - he wouldn't have cocooned himself for a long ass time like he did otherwise. and you know he was there for a long time because he's all skinny and covered in cocoon liquid stuff. and mohg wouldn't need to break open his cocoon like he did, he would just take it back to his palace

2 - miquella couldn't have known mohg even existed. he lived in the sewers his whole life, and miquella never went to the sewers. also, even if he did, he couldn't have charmed him there bc otherwise ansbach would never know to differentiate a non-charmed mohg from a charmed mohg .

3 - mohg is already a established kidnapper. from the "war surgeon gown":

"Bloodstained white gown of the war surgeons who were effectively mercy killers. Of the surgeons that were abducted by the Lord of Blood, none were able to tame the accursed blood. None but Varré, that is; though he was an exception."

4 - mohg had his own reasons to kidnap miquella. he wanted to build his blood dynasty and to become a lord, as ansbach says he was seeking lordship, and the consort of an empyrean is a lord by right (see dark moon ring description). miquella is the only empyrean available, as ranni is presumed dead and malenia already has a god inside of her (and he could never kidnap her), leaving only miquella who apparently doesn't have an outer god meddling inside of him, so perfect vessel for the formless mother

now, you're probably wondering "well if the mohg thing wasn't planned, who would be used as a vessel for his consort??" to answer that, miquella probably didn't know he needed a vessel in the first place, as the ">>>secret<<< rite scroll" is only found in the shadow realm, he couldn't have known about that thing while living in the lands between.

verdict: miquella was forced to switch plans after the kidnapping (can't complete anything he starts curse yadda yadda), mohg did not beat the allegations, and miquella got his revenge for being used (mohg was living/sleeping inside his corpse how do yall forget this???) by using mohg's corpse to house his promised consort's soul somehow (which is awful too, but that goes without saying)

remember, the story in the dlc is there to parallel his ascension to marika's ascension. in this case, the hornsent killed and tortured marika's people, and she responds by genociding and terrorizing the hornsent people. mohg used and abused miquella's corpse, and he responded by using mohg's corpse.

marika = miquella

hornsent = omen

I just think it's weird that so many people are running off with the assumption that miquella, who the dlc all but confirm has the body AND mentality of a child, was charming mohg out of malicious intent rather than self-defense. remember he was probably never trained to fight nor does he have the strength to do it, the charm is basically his self-defense mechanism.

I think the main issue is that if you disagree on even the littlest thing here, the whole narrative shifts, and that's why there's so many different interpretations and confused people.

this is all subjective and there's no reason to claim my interpretation is the correct one ofc but I do think I make a good argument.

[denver-carrington]

Helmet Berger's autobiography Ich (co-written by his friend Holde Heuer) was published in 1998. Someone (I don't know who, sorry!) posted a synopsis in English and here are the parts of it that pertain to Helmut's time on Dynasty.

From Chapter 12: Envy was also a theme in Hollywood. When Berger played in "Dynasty - Denver Clan" he was not allowed to even speak to colleagues and friends who played in "Dallas", because there was a rivalry between the two tv-series.

From Chapter 13: Berger talks a lot about his time in "Dynasty - Denver Clan" (1983/84). Producer Aaron Spelling wanted him to play a European playboy. He had to play a man who only wants his wife's money and is hooked on cocaine. But Berger did not like working in Hollywood. He describes it like a factory, every week the production team changed and another director was responsible for every new episode. This was not the place to be for an actor who used to work with Visconti and was used to higher European standards. For the eight months in Hollywood Berger took an apartment in which he lived with his coach. Soon he fired her because she made phone-calls to Europe which Berger had to pay. His colleagues Linda Evans, Joan Collins, Pamela Sue Martin and John Forsythe were friendly in the beginning, and so were Spelling's secretaries. But Berger immediately realized that they did not mean what they said. As said before, he never liked America and its citizens. "During the first four weeks I gave my best. No cocaine, no alcohol. I needed a clear head, because the actors got their text in the morning and we only had little time to learn it." Soon Berger was disappointed. None of his colleagues invited him to their houses, none of them thanked him for his presents. He realized that Hollywood means "making business without any soul". His only fun were the weekends where he met his friend Jack Nicholson and other stars. They smoked a few joints and felt wonderful. Berger likes Nicholson and calls him "one of the funniest men I know". Berger told him about his problems and Nicholson said: "The role is good for you. Everyone in America sees you. You become famous." But then the "Denver"-people said that Berger was not allowed to met people like Nicholson or Marlon Brando because everyone in Hollywood knew that those people were sniffing cocaine. He was also not allowed to visit the best night club, "Studio One", because it was known for his homosexual guests. "I could not believe it. All those jerks. Puritans. But secretely they all watch porno movies. I did not follow their rules. I had to come to the office every second day. They told me that my role would slowly disappear, if I would not do what they said. I answered: 'You really believe that I stay at home and don't meet my friends? Really? Heil Hitler.' So I was only part of 'Denver' for eleven episodes. In the end my airplane crashed against a mountain." Only when his shootings for "Denver" where over, Berger felt better and started to have fun in Hollywood. He stayed there for one month longer. He did a lot of shopping, was invited by Warren Beatty, and Barbra Streisand was giving a dinner for him. "I met Grace Jones, Linda Blair, Sally Kellerman, Richard Dreyfuss, Michael Douglas and Michelle Philips. And, of course, Marisa Berenson who was divorced from her first husband, billionaire Jimmy Rendall. I was totally high when I left Hollywood, this magical place of false illusions."

[blueiight]

This isnt even substantitive commentary 85% of this is just quoting what was written bc i need people to know this is out here.

new fent (nat reufriede)

He wasn’t surprised when she refused to answer the question this time, too. “I still don’t understand why Mein Kaiser ” — her voice was a perfect mockery of Reuenthal’s usual tone— “feels the need to uproot the whole government.” She tilted her glass, letting her drink catch the light. “If he’s looking for legitimacy, he should stay on Odin.”

“What legitimacy?” Reuenthal snapped. “What more legitimacy does he need, than what he has?”

“You’re a very stupid man, Oskar,” she said.

“Oh?”

“ Your Kaiser has the legitimacy of holding a gun to the rest of the universe’s head,” she said. “Fine. There’s no point in pretending like he doesn’t, and you claim that’s the only legitimacy you respect, anyway. But you seem to have deluded yourself into acting like He is going to live forever, and that his children won’t need to borrow some legitimacy of their own. Odin is a place used to having dynasties— I wonder if he’s about to discover that Phezzan isn’t.” COOK THAT BLONDE BRAT SHAWTY

The premise of this story being reuenthal with a beard is just tickling my feathers. The imagery of reinhard preserving the iconography of the old dynasty & reuenthal picking a beard (a symbol of agedness, of manliness) and struggling to grow it out, the beard even softening his features is soooo symbolic.

YOULL KILL YOURSELF WITHOUT MY HELP! All i need to do is see it im deaaad

She seemed almost unfamiliar with the weapon, hefting it and turning it over, though she had enough sense to keep her finger away from the safety and the trigger. Had she never fired a gun before? He was momentarily entranced by the way it dwarfed her hands. … She held up his wallet, and he realized that, at some point between the front desk and the room, she had managed to pick it out of his pocket— likely when he was distracted by her trying to undo his belt in the elevator. She went through it, pulling out the cash, then tossed it on the bed.

i am not immune to elfriede. elfriede wanting to gamble v reuenthal not liking that he cant conquer a gamble.. wowthe fact that elfriede is in a big gamble of her own tangled w fezzan + all those shady ass factors still . she loved to gamble indeed

The intent was for him to blow across her fingers and the dice, a rather feminine thing to do, but instead he took her wrist roughly and kissed her knuckles. “Oskar!”

What do i even say man.

this is the first time ive read nat’s freak shit wiaw i read up to so far be fading to black omg this really did hit like fent.

His experience with wives as a species was limited: his mother, Mittermeyer’s wife. Elfriede resembled neither. The person she most often reminded him of was Him , with the wild mane of golden hair, and the piercing, hateful look in their eyes. He didn’t think about that now.

Getting to proxy-fuck ur emperor man crush lord & master…

“A wife is meant to obey.”

“A soldier is meant to obey,” she said. “A wife—”

Even with her movement limited with his weight bearing on her shoulders, she could reach between them and grab his [word i cant say lest tumblr censor me oncecmore] She wrapped her legs around him and tried to pull him down towards her.

“A wife has her husband’s child,” she said. “Is that what you want me to say?”

[passages I cant say lest tumblr censor me once more] She reached up to touch his face, and the feeling of her hand moving through the bristles of his newly-grown beard made him feel ill. It was all wrong— the simulacrum of normality that they couldn’t even play at well.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s what I want.” Or it was what some other man wanted— someone Reuenthal should have been, but wasn’t.

THE SIMULACRUM OF NORMALITY THEY COULDNT EVEN PLAY AT WELL.

She mumbled something half-incoherent, and wholly impossible. “A real family—”

“Better than the one you had before,” Reuenthal said in reply, which managed to get a reaction out of her of some sort, clawing her hands down her back.

“Everybody wants that,” she mumbled.

And nobody gets it , he thought. “You want me to take care of it,” he said. He pressed his hand to her lower abdomen, leaning on it hard.

“Yes,” she said, her voice coming out strangely.

“Then when it’s born, I’ll have to aim higher— for its sake—” He punctuated his sentence with his movement, the white heat growing between them. He moved faster, seeking out the climax. There was only so long he could play this charade before the disgust became too overwhelming.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO . Ohmygod. bro. nat. u have rocked my world once more.

AND WHAT SHE SAID RIGHT AFTER. HE’LL HAVE YOUR EYES. TRYNA STRANGLE HER. HER PUTTING THE GUN IN HIS MOUTH and that being what made him cum

Dont even have words.

THEN HE GOES TO REINHARD RIGHT AFTER????!!! Over the cold body of reinrein’s exwife dead husband😭😭😭. THE ROYAL WE!! rein realizing what reue came for on some level… we r two halves of the same battle hungry depraved ravenous thing

Reinhard turned towards Reuenthal at last, looked him over as if he was seeing him for the first time, and reached out his hand towards Reuenthal’s face. He didn’t touch him, but his hand hovered just close enough to his cheek that he could feel the warmth of it, the staticky charge of an almost imperceptible distance. “You shaved that awful beard you were growing.”

“I had wondered if a change would suit me, considering our move to Phezzan. It didn’t.”

“No,” Reinhard said. He dropped his hand and looked back towards the grave. “Change doesn’t suit Us, either.”

“Oh?”

“We’ll be buried here,” Reinhard said.

[reginrokkr]

𝐗𝐗𝐈. Last night I had an eureka moment when thinking about the possibility that those who abandon their gods are immediately cursed to turn into hilichurls at some point. This led me to think back of Khaenri'ah and that either some or all of them were branded as the greatest sinners and then I remembered that in actuality, Sumeru did introduce us to six cardinal sins —mentioned in one of Cyno's stories— that to be fair, might apply to more than just what was happening in the nation of wisdom at that time. A bit of research in combination with an excellent wording from a subreddit makes for a far more comprehensive list of sins:

✦ Sin of creation —to tamper with human evolution—: Evolution and creation in the face of the gods.

✧ Sin of immortality —to tamper with life and death—: Tampering with life and death in the face of the gods.

✦ Sin of arcane —to delve beyond the universe—: Discovery of fate / destiny and arcane knowledge in the face of the gods.

✧ Sin of genesis —to investigate the origin of words—: Exposing divine lies and beliefs in the face of the gods.

✦ Sin of omission —to revere gods without acts of devotion—: Failure to perform a divine request in the face of the gods.

✧ Sin of reason —to attempt the forbidden and fear none / to divulge secrets without a hint of fear—: Divulging divine secrets without fear in the face of the gods.

To tackle what first brought me to think about the six cardinal sins when wondering what sin the people who are prone to turn into hilichurls at some point, I believe that the most suitable one for their particular case would be the sin of omission. While I can't tell for sure about all the people who travelled from the seven nations to Khaenri'ah, when thinking about Sal Vidagnyr, these people's sin was to question the gods when they said that they would benefit from a good life and they wanted to know what would happen after the years they said that this would extend. In answer, the gods fell in silence and stopped guiding humans (it's also possible that it coincided with what happened around the Apocalypse era) and these people pursued the heavens to see for themselves if the concept of divinity was real to begin with, only for the civilization to end in disaster as a result. By taking this example into account, the loss of faith in gods altogether and their pursuit of a land devoid of their gaze could suffice for these people as well as their descendants to be branded with the curse of wilderness.

If we're to bring all of these to Khaenri'ah and what limited knowledge we have of that kingdom, just by reading these sins alone is enough to come to the sound conclusion that, if they didn't commit all of them, they did most of them:

The sin of creation is self-explanatory by thinking about Gold alone with her creations of monsters. So it is the sin of immortality with the pursuit of transcendence, but also if we think that at least Gold lived for several millennia since the Crimson Moon dynasty. As for the sin of arcane, it was mentioned in a certain weapon description that astronomers branded as heretics discovered the truth of the false sky and the source of fate with it. The sin of genesis is what makes me doubt the most if taken in the literal sense of looking into the origin of words, but exposing lies told by gods themselves is something we saw the Abyss Order pursuing, specifically if we think back about Enjou and his desire to achieve Before Sun and Moon, as they believe that the world didn't start with gods. Lastly, the sin of reason checks too just by considering that Khaenri'ah was actively pursuing Forbidden Knowledge and in some descriptions of Abyss Order monsters, they seem to have an obsession with divulging certain truths very well concealed.

[wizardnuke]

head in hands thinking about how the mighty nein saved the world or at least countless lives from lucien and cognouza and no one is ever going to know. so very few people knew what they were up against and less helped and they're not going to tell the story themselves. they don't want the attention they just wanted to go home or to make a home. they just wanted to save their friend. ohhh my god

[bajisbabe]

[author’s note] I rewrote this post THREE times...

# DON’T KNOW WHY I STILL TRY, SHE WONDERS WHY

“I don’t trust nobody, not even her.”

they accidentally hit you | Yandere!Mikey, Ran, Wakasa

warnings: accidental violence, brief mention of actual violence, implied kidnap, yandere, Mikey kicking reader, Ran hitting reader, Wakasa kicking reader.

anon said: “Request for a Yandere ran, Mickey and Wakasa where they accidentally hit you? Like they accidentally slap or kicked u too hard for any reason”

song: trust nobody, love nobody the same by sagun (feat. shiloh dynasty)

— is probably beating tf out of someone who thought they could get between you two; maybe someone who came to rescue you or tried to help you escape.

— he is about to end them with that legendary kick of his, but his foot catches your jaw because you thought it would be a great idea to jump in front of whoever Mikey is beefing with in a pathetic attempt to save their miserable life.

— and Mikey is able to slow the kick just enough so that you don’t get the full force, but you still get hit as it was far too late for him to stop when you suddenly jump in front of him like that.

— and you go flying.

— like you’re literally knocked off of your fucking feet.

— and he watches your body crumple on the floor as you land.

— you let out a lil’ yelp as you hit the ground.

— suddenly, he forgets all about the loser he’s beaten bloody and runs over to check on you.

— he kneels over you, tugging your limp body into his lap.

— he smooths back your hair, rubbing his thumbs over your temples as he softly calls your name.

— and when you don’t respond, he gets panicked and begins calling your name louder and louder until you answer with a groggy, “what?”

— he gets so angry at himself that he has to take it out on something, or rather someone.

— so he moves as though he is going to go back to kicking ass, but you weakly tug at his wrist and beg him not to.

— and he sees how weak and vulnerable you are at the moment, and how you’re begging him so sweetly for someone else’s life.

— he hesitates, but in the end, he gives up and leaves that person alone. even though he has already given them the beating of a lifetime.

— and he does his best to help you get somewhere safe where you can be treated without alerting the authorities of course.

— he feels really guilty about it and keeps apologizing.

— and if you ask him not to go after that person again, in this moment, when the guilt is eating him alive, he won’t.

— but only if you ask him now, while he still feels like shit about how things ended up.

— he’s not as smart as people give him credit for.

— he really is quite a brute.

— he swings on kids with bricks and batons in parking lots for fun.

— he is most likely testing out his new weapon, whatever it may be.

— maybe a brand new shiny, steel bat that’s sole purpose is to beat in the faces of anyone who tries to take you away from him.

— he had it custom made to ensure that it’s got the right weight to it.

— and he is just swinging it about when you happen to pop up out of nowhere.

— maybe you had heard all the swooshing and just wanted to see what was up.

— but you happen to come too close and Ran doesn’t even see you, having way too much fun testing out his new weapon.

— and Ran is just swinging, swinging, swinging.

— and then he turns and you’re right fucking there. but it’s too late to stop it.

— luckily enough for you, he is able to lift his hand just enough so that his fist hits you rather than the bat.

— but it still hurts.

— you’re not necessarily knocked off your feet, but you get hit and become dizzy.

— your legs give out and you fall to your knees, cheek aching.

— he immediately collapses to kneel in front of you, hands hovering in front of you.

— he’s too afraid to touch you. he thinks he might hurt you again.

— “sorry.” he blurts, mouth dry.

— this means a lot because Ran never apologizes.

— but he feels so fucking sorry.

— your eyes are glossy, your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you fight back tears.

— I don’t blame you. I KNOW that shit hurt 🤕

— “I’m sorry,” he blurts again. “Can I—is it okay if I—uhm, what do you want me to…?”

— He can’t figure out what to do or how to help you.

— he feels like shit, and he thinks you’re gonna hate him even more now.

— you just sniffle, taking a deep breath as you blink back tears.

— “can I… Is it okay if I…?” His hands jolt as though he’s trying to stop himself from touching you.

— he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to see you scared, or see you flinch.

— and you don’t really have much of a choice because he might have broken something in your face and you need some kind of help, so you take him up on his unsaid offer.

— you nod softly, swallowing a sob as your cheek aches painfully.

— he slowly tugs you into his arms, soothing his large hands over your back.

— he cups your face gently in his hands and tilts your face to get a better look.

— your eyes are stinging as he asks you where exactly it hurts.

— “Sorry,” he murmurs again. “I’ll get Rindou to check on you,” he says. “He’s good with medical shit.”

— actually thinks you look rather nice when crying but won’t mention it because he can read the room.

— coddles you and calls you all kinds of nicknames.

— “baby, I’m sorry.” / “it won’t happen again, sweetheart.” / “I didn’t mean to, honey.”

— sits there while Rindou patches you up, holding your hand (if you let him) and telling you that you’re doing so good whenever you clutch his hand hard or when you squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

— promises to buy you whatever you want to fix it.

— even if you insist that you don’t want anything, he’ll still get you something.

— probably still tells you that he’s sorry under his breath.

— he is so pressed about the situation that he doesn’t even use the shiny, steel bat he bought.

— it’s expensive and custom made, and he’s not gonna use it at all solely because he almost hit you with it.

— he thought you were someone else.

— when he heard someone creeping out of the hideout, he assumed it was an outsider who stumbled across the place and was trying to escape.

— and his reflexes are fast.

— so without thinking, he clocks you upside the head from behind.

— he most likely noticed that it was you he was about to hit but by then, it was too late to stop.

— but he doesn’t even try to hold back or slow the punch at all.

— he lets you take it full force.

— you are quite literally knocked off your fucking feet.

— and when you hit the ground, you’re gasping for air because you’re winded thanks to the impact of the fall.

— and he just peers over you, watching you with that resting bitch face of his.

— he doesn’t even apologize.

— he quietly asks you where you were going, knowing damn well you can’t respond because you cannot breathe.

— and he doesn’t help either.

— he just watches you sputter for air.

— your ribs could be broken.

— and if you get upset and scream about how he could have hurt you, he’ll just shrug and say that he pulled the kick so that you wouldn’t get hurt as bad.

— liar. 😔

— if you need any kind of patching up, he will help.

— but he will probably have something backhanded to say about how if you didn’t try to escape then this wouldn’t have happened.

— is a lil’ insensitive.

— your body is probably sore and aching and he doesn’t even care.

— might purposefully run his hands over the place where he knows it’ll hurt most just to watch your pretty face contort with subtle pain.

— might even take his fingers and dig them into the sensitive skin that suffered from the impact just to see if you’ll yell or cry.

— he finds you interesting and wants to see you make as many expressions as possible.

— expressions of pain are not excluded.

— would be a lil’ hurt if you flinched away from him after the whole ordeal.

— but he isn’t stupid, he could understand why you’d fear him. he just can’t find it in himself to care.

— not that he would intentionally hurt you.

— but if it happens, if happens 🤷🏾‍♀️

— might feel guilty if you show that you’re genuinely upset.

— if you want him to stop poking and prodding at your bruises, you’re gonna have to cry.

— he might go easy on you then, but that’s a might, not a will.

[livingalifeofasimp]

Incurable Love

《♚ SLIGHT YANDERE / POSSESSIVE Zhongli X Reader ♚》

➳ Dynasty Au

➳ Warning : This content contains Yandere themes if you are sensitive please refrain yourself from reading it. This is purely for entertainment purpose, arts and pictures are not mine credits to respective owners, only the content is mine.

❖ You leap through the time to some dynasty and found yourself in the dark forest sunlight scatting through the leaves, on waking up you saw yourself surrounded by some men, the look on their faces made you feel some kind of outsider. They were dressed in traditional wear layers of clothes warped around them secured with leather belts, long hairs, head decorated with pretty accessories.

❖A man came forward glaring, your clothing style made them even more suspicious of you " What is your name? Who sent you here?", Starling you with his strict voice pointing a beautifully crafted weapon yet deadly in your direction that you assumed was sword. "Is this some kind of sick joke, some social experiment Hahah I ain't falling for this", you shouted looking around you for hidden cameras where are they? Other than that, it's illegal to bring people without their consent.  

❖"Stop fooling around answer or die" something in his voice told you this all wasn't a joke as he put his sword near your neck. You cut your skin slightly in the attempts to push the sword away realizing it's not a play. "Do you wanna die so much?, General she doesn't look like an assassin", a young looking guy came forward, "Suspicious, everything about her is suspicious, her words, her clothes, her etiquettes, which country are you from?", Everything felt wrong you took a step back ready to run for your life while they argued with each other.

❖Your heartbeat accelerated as you ran faster than anything to save your ownself, curiously you turned your head and saw an arrow shooted towards you, subconsciously a scream left your mouth before you were pinned by the sharped arrow on the woods. "How bold are you?", General guy mocked you already on his way to grab your neck.

❖"Stop what's is this chaos for?", A deep commanding voice stopped him, he kneel down and bowed followed by all the other guys. "A sceptical girl has appeared, your majesty", he reported to the tall man dressed in all the luxury who made eye contact with yours, you adverted your eyes not wanting to offend these dangerous men after glaring at him. "Is this?", The man bend down and grabbed your chin to get a full view of your face, to find out from where you are.

"I believe people don't want to die unreasonable deaths I will ask you once where are you from?",

 "I am from South",

❖You lied through your teeth making an innocent face these sharp men, hopping to not get caughted by them, his face held a cold expression clearly not showing whatever is going in his mind. "South? From felecoia island?, You hurriedly nodded your head after all you wanted was to get away from them and find your way back. "Why are you here?", "Work I need money to eat", you babbled out anything that could at least save you from his threatening presence. He was surprised, your clothing did amused him, even tho your speaking lacked manners according to the era.

——————————————————————

❖You were forced on Emperor Zhongli's laps reminiscing, if you would have not said the things that you said would you be somewhere else in life, why did it ended up like this?. "What are you thinking about? Today is my birthday, you should be enjoying", he said playing with your silky hair,  you looked at the other side of the hall court officials drinking wine, enjoying, young girls dancing who were selected by the empress dowager so that Emperor Zhongli could choose one of them to be his wife or concubines on his birthday as gift, girls of powerful and influence families, beautiful and perfect in literature were dressed in a seductive way to win Emperor's heart but here he is looking at you with his heart eyes demanding your affection.

❖His face buried in your shoulders leaving kisses and smelling your intoxicating smell that always manages to calm him down, as you try pushing his body away with your hands that he took in his slowly intertwing, pulling your form closer, his left hands encircled your waist as he deepens the kiss running with passion as if he wants you to feel all his love towards you, his overwhelming love and desire that he can't hold back. Noble women looks at you with envy warning you to not get closer to the guy that they love.

❖Zhongli holds your hand to make you walk along side with him which was not done by any other Emperor before. Zhongli knows its wrong but he wants you to love him, piecing pain passes through his heart whenever you say you won't love him, leaving him at the verse of crying. Sometimes his love, loneliness, caring and gentle personality towards you melts your heart but his tendency to get jealous easily in small things makes you think otherwise seeing you pet an animal, he pushes it way and put his head in your lap asking you to caress his hair instead, trying to keep you closer to him all time and hugs you without your consent, making you think maybe it's a good choice to stay with him since you are not able to find your way back home.

❖Whenever you mention your timeline he holds you tight in his embrace afraid to let go so that you won't disappear. Zhongli do not show you his darker side, killing officials or their daughters and maids who plot against you on the spot, cutting their wives, husbands, concubines, sons and daughters' tongue but he isn't afraid to show you his clingingness, holding you down in his bed with him and making you his hugging pillow, trying to win your affection by showing you his pityfull and pathetic, lonely self. Surprising you that the most powerful Emperor who won each battles and states kneel infront of you begs and threatens you to love him.

❖You remember the time when you said, you liked cherry blossoms in one of your friendly lunches with Emperor, the next day you saw your backyard filled with exotic beautiful cherry blossoms trees making your jaw drop, unbelievable how did he managed to do such thing. 

❖"My lady do you like it?, it's specially designed for you, each patterns are threaded perfectly, Royal tailors had spent sleepless nights to make this masterpiece asked by the Emperor", a representative tailor girl said as she carefully put the luxurious red robe around you looking for some mistaken errors trying not to displease the ruthless Emperor. Suddenly guards announced his arrival which caused head maids to retreat back, bow down and leave the chamber immediately as Zhongli springed towards you, trapping you in a hug.

❖"You look so beautiful my Empress, this should be enough", you tried to moved away from him "Empress who?, I am not any Empress", Zhongli poked your cheeks "Quit joking my love", he walked around you and stopped behind you causing you to be nervous who knows what he is planning?, Zhongli caressed your back or rather the pattern design, thread made of gold, it's Dragon's symbol which symbolizes protection, power, luck and wisdom most importantly possession of Emperor, with this on, no one will dare to come closer to you or lay their eyes on you and disrespecting you would be equal to violating Emperor's order, the punishment served will be execution, it's a simple warning to everyone.

❖Zhongli's touch caused you to jump and due to reflex you turned around to look at him, just what is this man thinking?. Zhongli grabbed your right wrist and pulled you to him making you clash against his hard toned chest, he affectionately caressed your left cheeks too drunk in your view to realize your struggles and kissed your right cheek lovingly before whispering in your ears with his deep husky voice a templating offer, "Be mine, let me love you and I will give everything you want, you are the only one I need, I am not asking much, my Goddess please be kind to me, grant me the chance to get your love, your precious than any treasure I own", before enveloping you in a desperate hug.

❖When he hugs you so affectionately but securely telling you how much he loves you that he can kill anyone, forcing you to promise that you will never leave his side whenever he finds out about your escape attempts from the shadow guards, dangerous then any other trained soldier who were assigned to guard you more like to prevent you from escaping, no wonder you always get caughted some or the other way each time you try.

❖You where gazing at all the other princes ( Emperor's brothers) gathered in imperial garden who knew they looked so handsome when Zhongli turned your face towards him by holding your chin with his index fingers " Your Highness.....what?", his angry face scared you after all he can execute anyone he wants "Go inside and wait for me", stealing a delicious view away from you "But", "Show her way inside", he commanded your maids who draged you inside.

"You should be my concubine"

"No way I will never share my husband with anyone I want to be his only wife and him to be my only husband".

❖You smiled to yourself satisfyingly he got no chance other than to leave you but instead of seeing a disappointed Zhongli you saw a blushing Zhongli, his Chief assistant was shocked who immediately turned his head in some other direction to not get his eyes plug out by the tyrant.

❖"How can I be so stupid, you shall be my only wife and be mine forever I shall be yours forever my dear wife", Zhongli said taking your left hand in his long pretty muscular hands and kissed your ring finger as your smile disappeared realizing that you digged your own grave.

[littleinkling64]

"Of course I knew you weren’t him, Batsy Jr.  If the original pulled a stunt like that, I’d be worried about his old-man knees.” from Dynasties and Dystopias on AO3 (full fic below)

Dick dropped to the floor, silent as a shadow, but the woman still knew he was there.

“Hmm, I was wondering when we’d meet again.” She turned, and Dick caught the flash of fangs and reflective blue eyes in the dark of the museum interior.  Well past the hours open to the public, the entire building interior was cast in deep shadows, periodically broken up by the blinking red lights of security cameras nestled into the alcoves.

Or at least, they should have been blinking.  They weren’t, at the moment.  He had the strangest suspicion that the woman had something to do with that.

The woman grinned a feral sort of grin and cartwheeled over to him with a careless sort of grace.  Coming to a halt, she quickly looked him up and down, and her grin disappeared, replaced faster and faster by a smile that was sly and strangely curious.

“You’re not him.”

Taken aback, Dick didn’t answer as quickly as he perhaps should have.  Granted, this wasn’t the first time a rogue had correctly guessed that he was covering for Bruce’s absence, but it was the first time a rogue had guessed it within a few seconds of meeting.  He would guess that Bruce had run into this woman once or twice before, given the familiarity of her tone.

He really didn’t want to follow the train of thought that accompanied Bruce and rogues dressed in a cat theme.

“I don’t suppose you’ll come quietly?”

The woman laughed, and he quickly noticed the necklace draped around her left arm as she reeled back with the motion.  But he didn’t make a grab for it.  Not yet.  This woman was dressed closely enough to Catwoman to be a convincing double, if not for the fact that her grin was distinctly less human than Selina’s had ever been.  Possibly a metahuman, but Dick couldn’t be sure without further information.

“Oh. I would, but it’d be such a boring first meeting, you know? Besides, I’d have to break out, and if I were to do that, well…unfortunate things happen all the time.”

“Her name’s Jinx.  Not quite a Catwoman copycat, but similar enough that her thefts go unattributed most of the time.  Metahuman, with enhanced strength and senses—”

The woman—Jinx—tsked chastisingly. “Naughty naughty, batsy jr. Talking about people in the room right in front of you.” Dick felt his heart drop a little when his comm—and Babs’s voice—abruptly cut out.  Their equipment was among the best in the world; Jinx clearly had more metahuman abilities than what was written in the sparse notes Babs had found.  Maybe short-range EMP pulses?

“You’ve met before then.” He tossed out a batarang as a warning shot, trying to get an idea of her fighting style or patterns of movement. The woman almost seemed to welcome the challenge, as she dodged artfully, letting the weapon lodge in the far wall.  The disturbance didn’t go unnoticed, and flashing red lights bathed the room in a violent glow as alarms blared.

“Oh, but of course.” She sashayed closer, posture loose with just enough tension to leap into motion at a moment’s notice. “Batsy jr., if the original pulled a move like that, I’d be worried about his old-man knees.”

Those teeth, too sharp and too bright, flashed in the light as she grinned.

“But enough chitchat.  Let’s dance, Batsy Jr.”

She leapt for him, a bo staff in her hands as if it had always been there, and Dick struggled to hold her back as they held there for a second, caught in the clash with the bo staff straining between them.  Which shouldn’t have been possible, considering the woman was barely five feet tall, if that.  Definitely meta, but without Babs in his ear, he wouldn’t have any more information on that front unless he could see it for himself here and now.

They separated and Jinx twirled her staff just in time to catch the edge of Damian’s sword.  The two weapons met in a clash of metal and sparks, neither bending.  Dick could see Damian straining and stepped in to back him up. Jinx moved back when he approached, putting space between the two of them and her.  Another twirl of that bo staff, and there was a wicked-looking hook on one end, slotted out in less than a second and as smoothly as rich cream. Clearly, she had access to decent gear and resources, if that was anything to go by.

She moved like lightning, using the hook to grab at the batarang trapped in the wall.  In the next second, she was throwing it, and Dick dodged, only to find the batarang actually flying through the air as she made a second throwing motion. The cape caught—of course it did—and Dick found himself attached to the opposite wall for a few seconds by a rogue piece of metal.

She’d actually faked him out.  With his own equipment, no less.

Snapping to action, he pressed the quick release on the garment and rejoined the fight.  But Jinx had managed to hook her staff onto the hilt of Damian’s sword and jerk it out of his hands in the few seconds Dick had been away.

Metal went clattering across the floor and Damian skittered to the side, dodging, as he pulled out secondary weapons.  Jinx, meanwhile, bolted.  Dick pursued, feet pounding.  She looked back at him and laughed as she ran for the gallery room. One of the few that had a skylight—roof access.  He snagged a bola from his belt and flung it with practiced accuracy.  Except that it just missed Jinx by an inch when she leapt to the side.  Unfortunate, and incredibly frustrating.

Jinx juked the minute he got close, but she couldn’t put enough distance between them to avoid Dick’s blows.  She took several, grunting at each impact, but to her credit, she didn’t buckle.  He’d have to add increased resistance to her file of meta abilities.  After he brought her in.

“Well,” she wheezed after a particularly punishing blow, “not that this hasn’t been fun, but—”

He swung, and Jinx dodged, managing to get lucky as she caught one of his legs with a quick swipe.  Jinx didn’t weigh nearly enough to knock Dick over, but she caught him precisely as his balance was shifting from one stance to the next.  Unfortunate for him, and very, very lucky for her. He struggled to regain his balance, but Jinx was already propelling herself up towards the ceiling with a slick grappling hook during his distraction.  By sheer strength alone, she hurled herself up and out through the only open panel. Barbara had mentioned super strength, but Jinx appeared to be wiry and lithe on top of that, making her slippery as an eel.  Something she was well aware of, given her fighting style.

And he wasn’t exactly free to engage in his usual acrobatics to counter her.

Jinx paused at the skylight, watching with amusement as Dick attempted to use his own grappling hook, only to have the equipment fail.  Fail.

Their equipment didn’t just fail.  Not like this, when he’d checked it before he left as a standard of procedure, but Damian was finding the same thing as he also attempted to pursue.

“Trust me little bird,” she called out, teasing, but in the darkness of the sky beyond the skylight, Dick could see very little beyond the flash of reflective feline eyes and inhuman fangs. “I’m just saving you a bigger headache by stealing this little trinket.  You can thank me later.”

Then she was gone.

Moments later, Babs’s voice, exasperated and worn thin, finally came back online.

“—B-man?  Dick? Look, you’ve got to be careful around Jinx; according to the file B compiled, he pinpointed her abilities as something to do with luck and probability.”

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I think I got that.”

But strangely enough, he found himself smiling.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

[goodqueenaly]

I get that "legally" the Valemen have to follow Lysa's orders, but being a patriarchal society with elements of "might makes right", why do they? She's clearly insane and easy to manipulate/dupe, why not ignore her orders or keep her ignorant? I'm surprised there's not more people taking advantage of Lysa's illness other than Littlefinger. Didn't other crazy/incompetent rulers have people go behind their backs all the time?

Why did the lords of the vale respect the rule of Lysa? Did they feel no compulsion to ride out and avenge Jon?

A couple things I want to say to these two different asks.

Number one, I don't at all care for what I see as the tone in the first ask, calling Lysa "clearly insane" and "crazy/incompetent". Lysa did some pretty awful deeds, unquestionably, and she did display deep paranoia about a number of subjects. Lysa. However, Lysa was also a pretty badly traumatized woman - one who had been subject to a forced abortion, had seen apparently seven of her eight subsequent pregnancies end in miscarriage or stillbirth, and had been manipulated by a psychopath who would eventually murder her. Moreover, Lysa was not entirely wrong about Robert Arryn: people did want to take him away from her, including her husband and the Lannisters, with the expectation that she would have no say over that. I am not saying any given reader has to - or even should - excuse any or all of Lysa's actions, but I am saying that writing her off as "clearly insane" and "crazy/incompetent" strikes me as writing off her character in a particularly disrespectful way.

Anyway, I think the answer here is pretty clear:

"The boy? What of him?" She ducked her head as they passed under a low overhang of rock, and around a sharp turn.

Her uncle's voice was troubled. "Lord Robert," he sighed. "Six years old, sickly, and prone to weep if you take his dolls away. Jon Arryn's trueborn heir, by all the gods, yet there are some who say he is too weak to sit his father's seat. Nestor Royce has been high steward these past fourteen years, while Lord Jon served in King's Landing, and many whisper that he should rule until the boy comes of age. Others believe that Lysa must marry again, and soon. Already the suitors gather like crows on a battlefield. The Eyrie is full of them."

"I might have expected that," Catelyn said. Small wonder there; Lysa was still young, and the kingdom of Mountain and Vale made a handsome wedding gift. "Will Lysa take another husband?"

"She says yes, provided she finds a man who suits her," Brynden Tully said, "but she has already rejected Lord Nestor and a dozen other suitable men. She swears that this time she will choose her lord husband."

Leading armies sworn to the liege lord without the leave of the liege lord - and his regent - to fight a war in which the liege lord has officially taken a position of neutrality is a great way to get the liege lord to declare that leader a traitor. This is no less true in the Vale, where both the Arryn name is close to sacrosanct - indeed, literally stamped on the map, turning the land into the explicit geographical possession of the Arryn dynasty - and rigid aristocratic forms must be followed (see the ceremonial welcome at the Bloody Gate, say, or the failure of the approach of the Lords Declarant). Acting against the wishes of Lord Arryn, via his regent, was not a line easily crossed, especially if there was an alternative means of acting both in the spirit of Jon Arryn and within the strictures of Vale aristocracy.

So marriage to Lysa probably seemed like the easiest solution. Once a good (which is to say, blue-blooded Valeman) aristocratic suitor married her, the expectation would have been that he would become the real ruling power of the Vale (thanks, patriarchy). He could direct the Vale's military response, and since he would be acting in the name of young Lord Arryn as his stepfather and new regent, there would be no tricky question of whether or not the Eyrie approved of the decision. That Lysa outwardly seemed to welcome suitors may have given hope that this plan would come to fruition; if she rejected one aristocrat after another, well, clearly she just hadn't met the right man yet (at least in the minds of those men).

Which is not to say this situation would have continued forever. Indeed, I speculated before that Lysa might have eventually faced something between what we saw with the Lords Declarant and the real-world Ainslie Bond as a means of forcing her hand (pun very much intended).

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Little Physician Empress ~ Yin Zhen x Reader

Just a story in which reader, a regular girl, was allowed since very young to aid her father in being a Royal Physician, and helped the princes through the years without asking for anything in return.

Since ancient times, views on physician women have been distorted times and times again - Sometimes they are shamans, other times they are witches, and oftentimes, they simply don't deserve to live, no matter how many lives they save, or how capable they are.

Even now, in Qing dynasty, there is stigma, and all the physicians in the palace are men.

But that will soon change when, one day, a Physician from outside the palace is able to come up with a proper cure for the plague that was rampaging the people and somehow, found its way inside the palace too, and he was rewarded handsomely - He was awarded a wish granted - Any wish he wanted.

And that was to have his daughter allowed to aid him in his work inside the palace. He explained how his daughter played around with concoctions one day, and somehow gave him the brilliant idea for a revolutionary cure, and with this story, the Emperor indulged the old man and got them both in the palace.

They didn't earn a lot of money, but it was enough for them to dress appropriately with living in the palace. The girl never got any kind of accessory, so she mainly held her hand in a simply braid, occasionally put some flowers in it, and was ready to go on with the day in aiding her father.

But she was always a curious little girl, and very often, she went outside to play and discover every nook and cranny around the palace - Which is when she met the fourth prince - Not that she knew, though.

She held some struggling and splashing in the water one night, and saw a eunuch running away. Upon investigating, she saw a child who wasn't trashing around anymore, and he was about her age. She jumped in the lotus pond, getting him to the surface and, after opening his jacket, she pressed on his chest between his lungs and leaned in to give him the kiss of life.

As expected, the boy then jolted in a sitting position and started coughing, before falling into her arms once again, exhausted.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in a gentle voice, her hand on his cheek to get his attention. "Fine...I'm better now...Whoever pushed me is going to get killed, I'll make sure of that." the boy was angry, and rightfully so. He tried to get up, but was still wobbly, so the girl helped him go back to his room, letting him lean on her side. "It was an Eunuch. I saw him running away from the pond after you got underneath the water." she told him what she saw. "Now that I think about it...Who are you? I've never seen you around the palace, have I?" he asked suspiciously. "Don't be suspicious of the person who saved your life. I am Y/N, daughter of the Royal Physician who came up with the cure for the plague." she explained in a gentle manner. "Figures. Then, that means you know who I am, don't you?" he scoffed lightly. "Uh...No, not really. Should I?" she tilted her head a little to the side. "You don't? They why did you save me?" he asked, even more confused now. "...Because you were dying?! Did you notice that? Was I supposed to let you die there? Tell me, I can quite literally drag you back to the pond and throw you back if you want? I will ask for you name first and only then rescue you." she scolded him in disbelief at his ungratefulness. "No. No, you're right. Anyway, thanks for saving me. How did you save me? I know I blacked out as some point, right?" he said, and with all the nonchalance in the world, she answered. "I gave you the kiss of life." this answer made the boy stop in his tracks, yelling at her. "YOU DID WHAT?! That’s... That’s improper! I will have you flogged and caned for that! You’re a woman, and I’m a man, and we are both unmarried, it’s... It’s...!" he gaped at her in horror. "You do realise you stopped breathing, don't you? And if I didn't get you breathing again, your heart would have stopped. If your heart stopped pumping, blood wouldn't have gone everywhere in your body, to all your organs, therefor you would have gotten a total system failure in less than 10 to 15 minutes. That means, for idiots like you who don't value life, that you would have died if I didn't do that." she rolled her eyes at him, dragging him inside the pavilion, where lots of eunuchs and maids fussed over him. "Su Peisheng! Reward this maid handsomely, she saved my life." the little boy said - He must be one of the princes, the girl thought, amused. "No thanks. I saved your life, that's all. You yelled enough at me, I don't want anything from you anymore. Next time I try to save your life, remind me to ask you your name first and only then ask consent to save your life." the girl rolled her eyes at him, thinking him hypocritical, and turned around to go home, only to have the boy catch her wrist immediately. "Then, ask for anything, and I'll give it to you." he said, very seriously. "Fine. I'm not a maid, I'm a Female Physician, therefor you must address me properly from now on. Physician Y/N. Got it?" her voice was authoritarian, but she didn't inspire malice or evil, and it quite amused the young prince. "Very well. Until we meet again, Physician Y/N." and thus, making her smile softly, she left the place with a nod of Goodnight. "Su Peisheng." the boy called out his eunuch one again. "What do Physician girls like?" he asked, almost innocently. "Forgive me, Your Highness, this one does not know, for there have not been female physicians in the palace before. However, girls usually like feminine things like clothes and accessories. Miss Y/N wasn't wearing any, as far as I saw." the eunuch provided the young prince with the information. "I see...Very well. Tomorrow, you will send some red agate earrings to her. Make sure you give them to her directly." the boy ordered his slave, who nodded in agreement.

However, the next day, the eunuch returned as he left - With the gift box in his hands and endless apologies. "Miss Y/N wanted me to inform you never to gift her...To quote her...Useless things. Pardon my rudeness, Your Highness, I am merely telling you her words. She said that expensive earrings won't help her save lives. I tried to convince her, but she threatened to throw them in the pigstry." the eunuch kowtowed to the ground in front of the young prince, only for him to raise him up and chuckle in amusement. "Don't worry, it's fine. I'll just bring them to mother and ask her for advice. This is no ordinary girl I'm dealing with."

And this way, his mother advised him to find rare healing-related books, even more so, from the West, and gift them to her. She immediately accepted them, and Yin Zhen often found the mysterious girl reading by the wisteria tree, unbothered by anything and anyone.

The 4th prince often looked at her and got reminded of his annoying 3rd prince brother, but at least she wasn't so obsolete and dissolute like him.

He would find her occasionally swinging in the Apricot garden, where it was mostly quiet and very few people visited, and even so, he would often hear her practicing flute-playing.

The next Prince she met was, to Yin Zhen’s entertainment and slight jealousy, was the 3rd Prince, Yin Zhi, as she was delivering medicine to one of the Imperial Concubines, the foreign melodious tune of an instrument she has never heard of before, and as expected, her curiosity led her directly to this Prince who seemed just a bit older than her, standing under a tree and practicing said instrument.

The girl could only stay there in awe, the wonderful melody taking over her senses and imagination, only for a sudden screech to destroy everything, making her yelp in shock. The jerk of a Prince made the bow unceremoniously scratch the violin’s strings, making a God Forsaken ear-bleeding noise.

“Hope you enjoyed that as well, stalker.” the prince sneered at her, but to his surprise, she merely chuckled. “Wonderful how such an elegant instrument can create hellish sounds in the wrong hands. Only someone hardworking, dedicated and with grace can play this instrument. You are a Prince, aren’t you?” she leaned on the tree, a knowing smirk on her face. “If you figured that out, then why aren’t you bowing to the ground right now?” the aggressiveness displayed in his voice and words seemed to contradict his actions as he sat down at the table, where neatly drawn blueprints and parts to be engineered with. “I can accept the consequences of my mistake and I even won’t protest, should you want to take my head off, should you be so kind as to explain to me the process of building this wonderful instrument. It is a Western one, is it not?” she sat down next to him, analysing the papers carefully. “What would some lowly maid like you know of Western technology? Why should I waste my time on you?” he scoffed, looking down at her. “Do you not find sharing such groundbreaking information with someone genuinely interested to be rather... Enlightening? From my short stay here, in the Palace, I have found out that the 2nd Prince is rather dissolute and promiscuous, but at the same time, a very intelligent and lonely person who cannot interact with others. From the looks of it, you simply have completely different aspirations and interests, while your brothers are solely interested in this Game of Thrones, and you cannot possibly have a proper, intellectual conversation with them. Correct me if I’m wrong, however, and I will leave you alone.” that vixen-like smile on her face made the Prince want to strangle her and wipe that stupid smirk off her face for daring to figure him out so well. At the same time, however, he hasn’t felt so challenged in his life and frankly, this little maid could prove to be more interesting than expected. “I’ll have you thrown to the Office of Punishments should you dare bore me at any time after the cheeky, daring stunt you pulled. Now, you better be paying attention to every word I am about to tell you, I hate repeating myself for dumb airheads, understood?” his voice was serious and mature, especially for someone his age, but that only meant that Y/N had what to learn from him, and for that, she was grateful. “I swear to do my best and keep up with your intellectual explanations, so please, do be patient with me for I am very grateful for the time you are taking out of your schedule to teach me.” she bowed her head to him, and thus, with a soft huff, the Prince began explaining the to the girl about the peculiar instrument in his hands. “This is called a Violin, and this is called a Bow. As you guessed, this instrument was created in the West, from a country called “Italy”, in an unknown date from the 16th century. Although paintings from back then show the Violin had 3 strings, now, as you can see, it has four...” and so, he continued by showing her the component parts of the violin both on the instrument, and on the blueprints, only for him to, in the end, gift her the ink drawing he made of the original blueprint, as a way for her to promise to continue studying on her own too.

There were many other Royal Princes and Princesses, but many weren’t as interesting as the 3rd and 4th Prince who, quite frankly, were a force to be reckoned with. While Yin Zhi would teach her how to build a clock, or show her interesting literature, Yin Zhen would be adamant in taking her horse-riding and, surprisingly, he was rather interested in her healing knowledge, thus why, he would always acquire the rarest books from all over the world and, instead of giving them for the Physicians to learn, he would gift them to this lovely maid whose company he loved so much.

Time passed quickly, they got older, both Y/N and her father rapidly advanced in their ranks thanks to their revolutionary treatments that cured every illness, and the princes all grew into fine men - Which meant that the true Game of Thrones began for everyone in the palace, not just them.

The first to go down was the Crown Prince who, as Y/N discovered, had ricing powder put in his food. “It is quite simple, and unfortunately, incredibly deadly, even in small doses. All you need is the beans from a castor oil plant, you make them into powder and... You’ve got one of the deadliest poisons there are. My only guess is, it would have to have been someone from the Imperial Kitchens who could do such a feat because, if the powder was put on the dishes after being prepared, it would still be mildly visible, whereas if it was put in a big pot, it would get homogenized and thus, leave no visible or taste trace.” Y/N explained in front of the Emperor, standing poised and ignoring all the other many eyes staring at her. “I have heard many times of ricin, but none was ever brave enough to dare bring it into the Palace, especially after I have forbidden any dish to be made with Castor oil! For the poison to act, one administration was enough?” Emperor Kangxi asked, rage and sorrow evident on his face. “No, Your Majesty. I imagine that the culprit played it smart and only added small doses of ricin powder in His Highness’s food, but regularly. I have read the Medical Files from the Bureau of Imperial Physicians and I have noticed that His Highness was complaining of an upset stomach, difficulty in breathing, occasional coughs that turned bloody over time and spiking fevers - Again, all over a rather long period of time. If the culprit were to use a large dose of powder, the Princes wouldn’t have been able to finish all the food from the plate and, therefor, the Ricin would have been tenfold easier to detect. In this situation, however, small doses meant nobody would believe His Highness got sick because of the food, because of his healthy appetite, hence why he was treated symptomatically for unrelated, yet very possible diseases.” the Female Physician went on further with the deduction, which angered the Emperor even further. “These jackals won’t even allow my sons to eat anymore! From now on, every meal will have to be tested before any person from the Royal Family eats it. Find the culprit immediately!” the Emperor thundered, his voice echoing throughout the Hall of Mental Cultivation. “Your Majesty, if I may... Ricin cannot be detected with silver, and if it is put in hot meals, it wouldn’t be traceable anymore. There is no way to detect it. While ingesting the poison is admittedly the least toxic pathway into the human body... Even with a small dose, it starts to cause internal damage in as little as 6 hours after ingesting. In regular doses, death can occur in a maximum of 3 days, which means, to my understanding, that His Highness may have started being poisoned a week ago at most.” the girl spoke confidently, but also with a tint of reticence. “Are you trying to tell me there is no way of detecting the culprit?!” the man rose up from his throne, pointing his finger at her. “On the contrary. With the grace and cooperation of His Highness, the 4th Prince, a small pouch of herbs mixed with ricin powder was found in the pockets of one of the eunuchs helping at the Imperial Kitchens. That is to say... If the truth comes out that this eunuch was the one who put the powder in the food... We need a testimony and evidence that would point towards the mastermind behind this operation of regicide. His Highness was the Crown Prince and a mere eunuch wouldn’t be affected in any way by the future Emperor, however that may be, but someone who could benefit in having another candidate on the throne would get actively involved in working from the shadows...” she didn’t dare move her sight from the furious Eye of Heaven, no matter how much she wanted to avert her eyes and look at the Prince, begging to be taken away from there because the tension was crushing. “Yin Zhen!” calling out his son’s name, he stepped next to Y/N, bowed and knelt next to her. “The two of you did good in solving this crime. From now on, the two of you shall continue unmasking the truth of this mystery and bring justice to my son, the Crown Prince, got it? No matter who it is, I will have them punished!” the Emperor’s last command was abided by the two of them bowing to the ground and calling out their responses - “Yes, Your Majesty!”

And thus, the Hall of Mental Cultivation was cleared and the two people in cause walked away, looking at each other and letting out sighs of relief.

“Let’s not do that again.” the girl managed to mutter, putting the back of her hand to her forehead, exhausted from the trial. “You’re tired just from this? I was expecting a lot worse.” the Prince smirked at her, seeing her roll her eyes. “Yes, well, the Royal Family business isn’t for me. I’m fine just healing people and studying. It’s actually relaxing, you should try that once in a while.” she nudged him softly, only for him to stop in his tracks. “What if I tell you I want you to join the Royal Family.” he crossed his arms, looking at her with a playful expression. “I’d tell you... You’ve lost your mind... And that nobody would agree to something like this. I suppose I should remind you that... I am a commoner and you are, and I hope it doesn’t come as a shock to you, not only the Prince but... A very strong candidate at being the next Crown Prince.” she shook her head in amusement. “Father wants to promote you to Noble Lady Shuyu.” he refuted immediately. “Having ‘Noble’ in a title does not make you of noble birth. Don’t make it difficult for either of us, Yin Zhen. Not to mention, you would be doing me a great disservice by marrying me.” she explained, cautiously looking around for any prying eyes. “How is giving you a life of unlimited luxuries means I’m doing you a disservice?” he stepped closer to her, holding her hands to his chest. “I am jealous, first of all. Even if I am to be your main wife, which, by the way, is impossible, you would still need to have a huge amount of concubines because that is the life of a Duke and/or the Emperor, should you actually get the title. That doesn’t exactly sit amazingly well with me to begin with... And that also means I’m not exactly the most Virtuous, Selfless and King Empress that everyone would want the woman holding this title to be. That and... If I marry into the Royal Family, I won’t be able to continue my Physician work, and I will only have to stay inside a stupid, but nicely furnished palace, with tons of servants to do whatever the hell I want and many more other women who will be jealous of me and will plot to kill me. Ah, yes and the unfortunate case of you getting bored of me for a younger girl, when we get older, but that’s just that.” she got her hands back, and smiled at him sarcastically. “You’re an impossible woman, you know that, right? If you do, you should also know that, for you, I would give up the title of Crown Prince. If I am a duke, then it shouldn’t matter if I marry one woman alone, and whether or not she continues her hobby of healing people in a palace far away from the Forbidden City, where there would be no envious eye that would wish you harm. How does that sound.” his words were soft and gentle, and with every sweet word, he could see the girl’s defenses lowering down, bit by bit. “You would be an idiot to turn down the title you worked so hard for, especially after this perfect opportunity has just knocked on our doors. Don’t be stupid, Yin Zhen. I can still love you even if we are not legally married. Listen, we both know the 2nd Prince is the culprit, right? Him and his lousy mother of his, who wants to become the next Empress. I have a plan to take both of them down, and if we succeed, your place on the throne is automatically... But we have to be very smart about it. Very, very smart. Are you in?” she turned to look at him, as he stepped very close to her, cupping her face and kissing her forehead. “Since when have you become so scheming?” he asked, proud and amused. “Since I have a reason to win.” she winked at him, putting her hand on his face so he could lean down and hear the plot.

Months passed, and Y/N has been as busy as ever taking care of the women of the Harem since Imperial Concubine Yu was pregnant and the Empress, the late 1st Prince’s mother, protectively took her under her wing, while the sole Female Physician was to take care of her.

Thankfully, every plan was set in motion and time flew so fast, it was unexpected that 9 months already passed and the Concubine was ready to give birth already. Unfortunately for her, the Empress, along with the Empress Dowager, were away to pray for Buddha, and thus, the Noble Consort was now the most powerful woman in the Harem, and able to take decisions in place of the Empress.

As Y/N helped the Concubine give birth, to her shock, she realised the baby was very much yellow - But not only the little prince’s body, but his eyes as well. It caused a lot of shock and stir ups... But the unfortunate timing of arrival of the Noble Consort was enough to grab the baby from the midwife’s hands and toss is carelessly to the eunuchs who was digging a hole in the backyard of the Empress’s palace, to bury the infant alive, while the poor Concubine mother was frantically trying to escape the grasp of the eunuch keeping her away so she could rescue her baby.

But it was in vain, and no matter how much the mother begged, the Consort was absolutely ruthless. She was digging into the dirt, trying to rescue her child, but all of the Empress’s maids were uselessly staring, frightened and very much afraid for their lives.

Smartly, Y/N went inside the Empress’s palace and took her seal - As she ran back to the scene of the crime and yelled at the Consort to end this mess.

“The golden seal of the Empress is here! Enough of this mess! Yes, the infant has golden eyes, but the truth is, this might just be a medical problem, and we cannot know for sure if it is not investigated! Under such context, we must wait for Her Highness the Empress to make the decision! Noble Consort, I have begged you again and again to cease your actions, but I have no other way of stopping you. Seeing this golden seal is like seeing Her Highness the Empress herself, whether the 17th Prince is indeed sick, and how Noble Lady Yu should be dealt with, we must all wait for the decree of Her Highness the Empress. Any other person isn’t allowed to take any arbitrary action!” as Y/N glared angrily at the Noble Consort, showing off the Imperial Box that was hiding the Empress’s seal, the well known voice of the Eunuch announcing his Majesty’s arrival resounded through the place. “What happened?” the Emperor asked, followed by the 2nd, 3rd and 4th  Princes. “Greeting His Majesty. Your Majesty, the little prince was born with golden pupils. His whole body is yellow. The Empress isn’t in the palace. I’m enforcing the palace law on her behalf. I was just about to punish the mother and child, but who knew that the servants of Changchun Palace would publicly stop me.” the Consort threw a shady look at the Physician. “Your Majesty, I dare not hinder Noble Consort in implementing the law. It’s just that Her Highness the Empress repeatedly instructed that we all must protect Noble Lady Yu. Before the Empress returns, no one is allowed to make punishments without permission. Moreover, whether the little prince is indeed sick or not, as a Physician, I must advise everyone not to make conclusions based solely on what we see. There was no time for me, or any of my colleagues to check the health of the little prince, therefor, this may all just be an unfortunate misunderstanding, not a bad omen. The action of Her Highness the Noble Consort is too hasty.” Y/N confidently explained the problem for the Emperor. “You wench, how dare you speak ill of my mother?!” the new Crown Prince, the 2nd Prince, rushed forward to slap the girl’s face angrily. “Father, there is nothing impossible in this vast world. I, who has been studying various Western practices would know that what we may consider impossible or strange, other would deem normal, and vice versa. It may just be as the Female Physician says - That the 17th Prince’s golden pupils are just because of some strange illness that, if treated, will disappear.” the 3rd Prince stuck up to the girl. “Your Majesty, my child surely has some weird illness! I beg you, Your Majesty, I beg you to immediately have him treated.” the mother’s pleas melted the Emperor’s heart. “Li Yu.” the Emperor called out his head eunuch. “Call the Imperial Medical College for a consult. And find out if Physician Y/N’s father returned from his trip abroad.” and thus, the Emperor called everyone in cause once again to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to hear the testimonies and make a decision.

Two elder doctors came inside the Palace and reported their explanations to the Emperor, while the poor, desperate mother was thrown out of the room so she could calm down and stop shrieking.

“I’ve seen a lot of babies with yellowish faces, but I’ve never seen a case where the pupils are also golden yellow.” one of them explained. “Is there no way to cure him?” Yin Zhen asked the Physicians. “This is not an illness, so there is no way to cure it. There is no such thing as a child with golden pupils in this world.” Physician Zhang answered adamant. “I know Your Majesty is unwilling to do it, but if we don’t resolve it today, if the sun rises tomorrow, the news that a Noble Lady of the Forbidden Palace has given birth to a child with golden pupils will spread to the empire as if it has wings. I fear that people will be in panic and it will be hard to handle the consequences. Hence, I hardened my heart, all for Your Majesty’s sake, for the Qing Empire. Even if everyone will blame me for it, I won’t mind. Your Majesty, why are you still  hesitating?” the dead silence that followed was, as if on cue, disturbed by the baby’s cries. With a hurried smile, Y/N hurried to take the baby in her arms and kneel in front of the Emperor. “Your Majesty, look! Although the little prince is yellowish all over, his cry is very strong! Your Majesty, he is a live person and he is connected with Your Majesty by blood! How could you kill him so easily?!” Y/N spoke quickly, hoping to appeal to the Emperor’s soft heart strings. “Isn’t the Empress to kind? Indulging a mere physician to act like this? When your masters are talking, how could you interfere?!” the Noble Consort harshly reprimanded the girl. “I recognize my mistakes, however, as a Physician myself, while it is true that I do not know everything in this world, I can also say that I had my fair share of travelling, albeit, not as much as my father. The yellowing of the body may as well be jaundice, especially if we take into account the severity of the colour. In some texts that I have read, it is said that, on rare occasions, if the jaundice is severe, it may even affect the colour of the eyes. Your Majesty, I have no reason to work against anyone. My work is to heal people, which is why I am fighting so hard to save this child - Not only because he is Your Majesty’s child, but because all lives must be treasured and treated with great importance. If this child is sick and I can cure him, than I have done my purpose in life.” the girl gritted her teeth, trying to control herself. “Father, can’t you see you’ve been indulging this wench for far too long? You give a common wench a helping hand, and now look how unruly and disruptive she is! Speaking back to her superiors! Shameless!” the Crown Prince growled at the girl who was incriminating his mother. “Father, if I may - As Physician Y/N said, all of our Imperial Physicians have been working only inside the palace for so long. If a strange illness occurs, they may have no knowledge of that, perhaps even outside of the usual textbooks. If I understood correctly, Y/N father has returned to the palace just yesterday, perhaps his opinion will be of use, should this simply be a case of misdiagnosis.” the 4th Prince quickly defended her. “Nonesense! Could a distinguished Imperial Physician of the Imperial Medical College have less knowledge and experience than a common maid like you with no proper training or education?” Physician Zhang scoffed at her. “Your Majesty, although I’m well-versed in children’s illnesses, there is nothing truly impossible in this vast world. Maybe there are still a lot of strange illnesses that I’ve never had a chance to be in contact with. Many Physicians tried to get rid of the plague, but only Physician Liyue was able to do it, a common man from outside the Palace with no former education. Just because we haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist.” Physician Yang spoke modestly. “Physician Yang, are you old and muddled?! A matter that you yourself isn’t sure of, you dare report it to His Majesty?! If a problem indeed occurs, a natural calamity or a human-made disaster, can you bare the crime? No. Your Majesty, this concerns the fortune of the Qing Empire. You mustn’t be soft-hearted.” the Noble Consort quickly responded as harsh as ever.

However, just as she said that, Y/N’s father clumsily stepped inside the room and knelt next to his daughter, greeting the Emperor who, in haste, told him to check the child.

In doing so, he merely smiled and said the same diagnosis as his daughter did.

Jaundice.

“Can’t be. Not like I haven’t seen jaundice in children before.” Physician Zhang refuted immediately. “That’s because you are lacking in knowledge. Your Majesty, this jaundice, even if it’s not treated, the little prince would recover within 7 days. This illness is pathological and related to the bile of the expectant mother. It is usually connected with the pregnant mother having too much accumulation of bile.” the father explained. “Your daughter gave the same diagnosis.” the Emperor muttered. “Can it be cured?” “Your Majesty, don’t worry. If I prescribe a formula to reduce the jaundice, in less than 2 weeks, the 17th prince’s jaundice will subside.” and thus, the Emperor ordered to have the child be treated with care...And the Consort changed sides as much as her face changed instantly.

And thus, the Emperor forgave the Consort and had this matter be banned from being talked of...Until the 4th Prince spoke up.

“Father, before we leave, I had urgent news to speak to you about, and they concern the Noble Consort.” the Prince left his father’s side and stepped in front of him, next to Y/N. “Is this about your brother’s death?” the Emperor’s face became grim as soon as he saw the nod of the prince’s head. “Very well, speak.” “Su Peisheng, have the body brought in.” the Prince ordered. “Noble Consort, you are not afraid when you kill a man, so why are you afraid when you see a corpse?” the Prince asked, simply, as he took off the sheet to show off the man’s face. “Do you not recognise him? Or perhaps, your son does?” the Prince interrogated the indignant woman. “What are your implications, Yin Zhen?!” the Crown Prince stomped in front of his brother. “Your Mayesty, this is the Mongolian chef from the Imperial Kitchen. While he is also the one who cooked food for Noble Lady Yu, he is also the one who prepared the daily Mongolian treat that the 1st Prince enjoyed so much.” Yin Zhen spoke up confidently. “That’s right... Your Majesty, I have taken care of Noble Lady Yu since the beginning of her pregnancy, and pretty early on, Noble Lady Yu was gifted Mongolian scones from her hometown. She loved them so much, I imagine she ate quite a lot. She said she had no idea there was a Mongolian chef in the Palace and she was incredibly happy to see that she could eat her home food after so long. She would eat three pieces every day - At least that’s what I saw, if she ate more when I wasn’t supervising her, I cannot know.” the Physician girl explained as she stood up, tall and ready for action. “Your Majesty, I had these scones be brought here as well.” the 4th Prince spoke and a scone was given to Y/N’s father. “Do you know what they are made of?” her father asked as he took a bite. “I believe milk was added to the dough, or ghee to the skin. She also ate assorted confectionary to replace staple food.” Y/N told her father. “Yes, I understand. Your Majesty, the child contracted jaundice mostly because the mother’s body is moist and hot, so the bile gets accumulated. I usually advise pregnant women to watch their food intake and not to eat too much sweet, hot and unpleasant smelling food, to prevent damage to the spleen and stomach.” Physician Liyue explained. “Ah, I understand. I didn’t give it much thought because Mongolian women are used to eating these things, but since she’s been away from home for so long, her body adjusted to our food, so naturally, getting a large intake of food from home again made her body react as ours would.” Y/N nodded in understanding. “Very well, so we have found out the truth behind the Prince’s illness. Now, Yin Zhen, tell me about the body. Who killed him.” the Emperor urged his son to speak. “We just have to look at who wanted the 17th Prince buried alive the most and we will know. And on who benefits the most in having our 1st Prince brother killed.” Yin Zhen explained. “That man is dead, brother. On what bases are you accusing me and my mother?” the Crown Prince sneered at his younger brother. “Your Majesty, the 17th Prince was just born, he is just an innocent child. Why would anyone want him dead? Unless... Someone didn’t want him to be born safely to begin with. Carefully thinking about it, since Noble Lady Yu got pregnant, Her Highness the Noble Consort has repeatedly made things difficult for her. First, using her dog to cause her trauma at the Imperial Gardens, and then repeating the same feat at the Lychee banquet organized by Her Highness the Empress. When Noble Lady Yu gave birth, the first person to charge in Changchun Palace was also Her Highness the Noble Consort. She insisted on having the 17th Prince buried alive. To say that this matter has nothing to do with her, it’s really hard for anyone to believe that.” Y/N accused the Consort, only to be, once again, slapped by her son. “Father, this is a conspiracy, don’t listen to the lies of this servant! It is a plot made to frame me and my Royal Mother!” the Crown Prince desperately tried to defend himself. “Father, if this is a conspiracy, why then everyone else asked for a Physician to be brought and inspect the 17th Prince’s condition, while only the Noble Consort alone was so adamant in killing the child?” Yin Zhen struck again. “Not to mention, even when Noble Lady Yu went up to her to stop her, she didn’t spare her. Instead, she ordered her to be killed along with the child. If she truly had no intention to kill, why was she so hasty and resolute?” Y/N chimed in quickly. “Your Majesty, you cannot sentence myself or the Crown Prince merely just based on a corpse and some speculations! This person is dead, who knew if someone else forced him to kill himself as to frame me and my son?” the Noble Consort shrieked desperately. “Father, when I sent my men to the Imperial Kitchen, they discovered one letter written in blood and 20 taels of gold. It shows that this person had sensed that something bad would happen to him. Father, look for yourself at the evidence left behind.” and thus, the eunuch brought forth a messy letter and the Prince showed it to the Emperor -” 'The person who will silence me will surely be the Crown Prince’ - And with this, father, we found a small pouch of Ricin laying on top of it. It means that the culprits behind these two crimes that we thought unrelated are, in fact, mother and son.” the 4th prince explained, picking up the pouch as well. “Wh-What?! What is this madness? I would ever use such a stupid servant to kill my brother!” the Crown Prince yelled out, but it was in vain. “Not only that, testimonies from the Office of Punishments came out. The men from the Imperial Kitchens that were involved in either of these crimes, all ratted out their mastermind and all point out towards either Noble Consort or the 2nd Prince.” the Prince continued, and the atmosphere in the place was harder and harder to bear. “Your Majesty! Your Majesty, it really wasn’t like this! I really didn’t know! I’m being framed! Framed! Me... My son...! We’re being framed!” the Consort tried to beg, plea and weep, but nothing worked. “ENOUGH! I don’t want to hear any more explanations from you. You killed my beloved son out of greed, just for you to become the next Crown Prince. I have overlooked so many of your mistakes and evidence of a possible coup... You were already the Crown Prince, what more did you want?! Shameless, both of you! Men, take them away! Both of them shall be thrown into the Cold Palace until further notice!” the Emperor’s rage seethed fear into everyone, as they bid his order, uncaring of the two’s desperate pleas. “Yin Zhen, you did well. Although a tragic truth, I was expecting this. As the matter of a new Crown Prince has to be instilled, I will make the final Imperial Edict tomorrow... However, you must know that you are the chosen one. I only wish that you do not act as carelessly and shamelessly as your brother did.” the Emperor sighed, feeling older than ever. “Father...I...! Your Majesty, you are magnanimous, I do not know how to thank you.” the Prince kowotowed to the ground, only to hear a weak chuckle from his father. “Rise, no need for that. Physician Y/N, you and your father once again saved us with your vast knowledge and expertise. I shall grant you both the title of Noble Officials of the Third Rank and shall enjoy all the benefits and luxuries that come with it. You have served me well and I am sure you will continue to do so in the future as well. You are all dismissed.” the Emperor said as everyone bowed to greet him off. “That worked better than expected.” the Prince smirked, looking down at the stunned girl. “Am I a genius or what?” she spoke breathlessly before starting to laugh in glee. “Dear, I have no idea what silly thing you plotted while I was away, but... I have to say, you pulled quite the stunt.” her father patted her hair lovingly. “I suppose once in a while I do like to have some dangerous fun, huh? Good thing I have two Royal Helping Hands to take me out of the water should I suddenly forget to swim.” she grinned carelessly, only for her father to shake her head, smiling. “Just be careful. Although... I am sure you will be protected. I will take my leave now.” and with a small bow, the left the three alone. “Was any of that true?” the 3rd Prince eyed the two carefully. “Well... She really did want to kill the baby by burying it alive. The rest was... Induced or fabricated. But nobody has to know, right? It’s all our dirty little secret.” the girl winked at him and, taking the 4th Prince’s hand, pulled him outside. “How does it feel being a Noble Lady?” the Prince chuckled, pulling her close to his chest and smiling warmly. “None the wiser.” she snorted in amusement. “Honestly, Yin Zhen, it’s just a title. It’s not like anyone is going to care in any way. I am still going to be just a common girl with no right to stay anywhere close to you. Besides, you know as well as I do that, in the very small chance that the Emperor does accidentally impregnate a common maid and he wives her, she is still going to be treated poorly and will be bound to the Back Palace alone. You know as well as I do that nobody is allowed to enter the Back Palace so freely. I don’t want any of that.” she spoke, cautiously. “If I am going to be the Emperor, that mean the whole China is going to be mine. It doesn’t matter which woman is my Empress, as long as all the other concubines are there for political reasons. All they care about is wealth, fame and luxuries for their families, but none care for me the way you do. You saved me from drowning when you had no idea who I was, and you rejected any gift I gave you that wasn’t useful for your education. I know you don’t want to be pretentious or have me think that you love me solely for luxuries but that does not mean I should be forbidden from pampering you whenever I feel like it. Just accept it. I do not want any other woman to stay in the Empress’s throne besides me other than you. Don’t deny me that, Y/N.” he cupped her face, making her look up at him, his eyes tender and filled with love. “I can’t do it, Yin Zhen. I can’t. I can’t let you damage your image. You will be the best Emperor China’s ever had, you cannot have a common peasant woman be the Mother of the Nation. You will found a woman to genuinely love you and care for you as much as I do, and she will be worthy of you, and of noble blood... And you will forget about me, and I will no longer inconvenience you. You will be just fine without me, Yin Zhen.” her eyes gleaming, close to tears, as she spoke those painful words, but the prince had none of that. “I will have none of that modesty and selflessness of yours. Keep that to yourself. I am going to be the Emperor. The Eye of Heaven. If I cannot even choose the woman I love to be my Empress, than what’s the point in being diligent in everything else? No matter how hard working you are, at the end of the day, you need to have clarify and peace from your confidante, and for me, that is you. I will hear no more of your excuses, I will solve all of them. In fact, I know just how you can get the ultimate approval from my father, as if everything you’ve done so far over the years hasn’t been enough. In a month, the palace will hold a banquet for the Princess of Western Liang and her Diplomatic Corp. I trust you and you alone to accompany me to this. I know it’s not something you are used to, but I will prepare people to teach you the basic according skills needed. This is all you’re going to need to do, and it will impress Father without a doubt. Please, Y/N. Do it for me. Do it for us. I want to marry you and love you. I want to see you dressed in the most gorgeous Empress dress, to have you by my side at the coronation, to see you smile as I put accessories in your hair. I want to see you happy, and I want to see you by my side every day and every night. Screw the rules, the Emperor can do as he pleases in his private time.” the fire inside Yin Zhen’s heart seemed to reach the girl for she merely smiled and, with an unexpected turn of events, she threw her hands around his neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss. “You better abide your own words, otherwise this Empress is going to drive her new hair pin into your jugular vein and have you assassinated in your sleep.” she muttered with a teasing smirk. “That’s the Y/N I love.” and with that, he pulled her into another, and yet another kiss, with as much fire, love and passion as the previous ones.

For the whole month, the girl, getting used to servants and new luxuries in her home, trained in all the skills Yin Zhen’s servants thought necessary, as to become a proper Noble Lady and, as he would always say, His Empress.

As she was practicing her walking on heels through the palace, her maid, Shi Lian, seemed to be in quite the mood for chatting, telling her that the Western Liang delegation came by just earlier that day and that they are carrying this beautiful, exotic precious unique hairpin. However, unexpectedly, a huge crowd started gathering all around the two and the people started pulling and pushing around aimlessly, creating a huge commotion, making her fall on the street. Thankfully, just as she was about to get crashed by an incoming carriage horse, she felt lifted up.

“Are you injured?” the sweet voice of the man who so heroically rescued her called out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he protectively held her waist. “Thanks to you, I am. Are you my guardian angel or what? I can’t believe how perfectly you arrived to save me.” she put her hand to her chest, trying to calm down. “I had orders to greet the corp. You silly... It’s great fate that I’m here. I’ll bring you back and send for an Imperial Physician to look after you.” he spoke strictly, only for the curtains of the carriage to be harshly drawn away and a glaring woman to stick her head out of the window. “4th Prince, are you going to leave me and the envoys of Western Liang behind?” she scolded in an evil way. “...Yin Zhen, I am alright, I promise. Shi Lian is with me. You said it yourself, this banquet is important, you cannot leave. Go attend your business. I insist.” the girl looked him deep into his eyes, knowing that they always understood each other from their looks. “Fine. But I will leave a guard behind to escort you home. Take care, Y/N.” and thus, with one last look, he left, as Y/N could only smile at how caring and attentive her hero is.

The silly man, however, as expected, dotted so much on her that he called her own father to care for her.

“Miss, looks like 4th Prince really cares about you! Ah, before I forget, the Matron has a massage for you. This afternoon, the Princess of Western Liang will be visiting the Imperial Palace and you are designated as her retinue.” Shi Lian’s sweet and innocent smile quickly disappeared. “Oh... Great. I have to take care of a bitch. May the Heaven watch over me.” Y/N muttered as she leaned her head on her father’s shoulder. “I heard she is pretty aggressive. She’d bully maidens without excuses. She’s fearsome... Miss, you have to be more careful.” the maid held her master’s hands, looking worried at her. “Don’t worry, I can do it. If this is the last step towards success, not even all the torture Wu Zetian went through can stop me.” Y/N’s voice was low, dark and dangerous. She was like a fearsome lioness ready to strike and maul anyone approaching her cub.

The next afternoon, after dressing is soft and demure looking clothes, Y/N went to show the Princess around the Imperial Palace. The load of exotic jewelry would blow away anyone’s mind, but she wasn’t interested in anything except for the fine craftmanship and the great detail put into everything.

“Ah, it’s you who was saved by 4th Prince yesterday morning outside the palace! To think 4th Prince would ignore me because of a slave girl!” the Princess stared at her condescendingly. “I am but a humble Palace maid. Surely 4th Prince would pay his undivided attention to you, Princess.” the girl bowed respectfully in front of the Princess. “I’d love to see what you’ve got! I heard the Tea ceremony of the Great Qing is extraordinary. Blow away my mind!” the Princess ordered immediately.

Thanking Yin Zhen for having all his servants meticulously teach her every art needed, Y/N proceeded in preparing the Tea Ceremony in such an elegant and graceful manner that the Princess was greatly jealous.

“She’s just a slave girl! In what position is she compared with me? Somebody drive her away, I don’t like her!” however, just as she was throwing her tantrum, Yin Zhen’s eunuch came by to invite Y/N to the banquet.

With a smile on her face, she went back to her home to change in the outfit prepared by the 4th Prince himself, and at dusk, when the glowing sunset brought out Yin Zhen’s most handsome features, she saw him. Tiredness was painted on his face.

“Yin Zhen... You look exhausted. Will you be alright?” she asked softly, cautiously raising her hand to caress his face. “I will be, yes. I am merely worried about you... But seeing you like this lifted all my worries. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” saying so, he caressed her hand, kissing it.  “I have to look my best when standing besides the most handsome man in the world, correct?” she winked cheekily at him, and thus, they went together inside the palace where the banquet was taking place.

There were songs, and dances, and just about anything you could expect - And there, on display, the precious hairpin of Western Liang, the jewel inlaid to it glistening mesmerisingly.

Seeing her confused look, he explained that the envoys are willing to part with the hairpin as a tribute only if they pass several tests. As it was a matter o Great Qing’s reputation, His Majesty couldn’t possibly refuse.

“Three tests and the hairpin is ours? How arrogant. No matter, I’m sure we can beat them.” the girl scoffed, standing besides Yin Zhen’s seat.

The first test, as expected, was Music. Western Liang sends out an envoy adept in music. The test is rather prompt to the palace and no one is prepared for that, so no one responds. Truly, perhaps she was a master at playing Pipa, and she was beautiful too, but that was not to say some intimidation wouldn’t work on the arrogant and prideful Western Liang.

“How do you like this song, Your Highness?” the girl asked, a proud smile on her face. “Very well. Your pipa is superbly crafted.” the Emperor spoke, making the girl frown, indignant. “You only complimented the pipa. Does that mean you don’t like the song?” the girl asked, offended. “That is an understatement. Though I am not an expert, I can tell the song you played was ingenious. However, and pardon me for being blunt, your skill is quite ordinary.” the 4th Prince commented, making Y/N bite her lip to stop herself from chuckling. “This is the Number 1 ancient tune from Western Liang. Few people in Qara-Hoja can play it. The way I play it is considered sound from Heaven.” the girl was angrily gripping her pipa. “Sound from Heaven? That’s an overstatement! I might as well tell you, a song like that, any Palace maid in the Qing Empire can play.” and thus, Y/N walked forward, holding the beautiful wine pot, as if to serve the pipa player. “Any? Any maid at all? Fine, can YOU play it?” the girl asked, volcanic-like. “No really... But the song you played... I’ve been practicing it since childhood.” and thus, Y/N sat down in place of the Western Liang pipa player and played her own tune with perfect dexterity. “If a Palace Maid can play it, why am I here?” and thus, the first win was awared to the Qing Empire.

With a modest bow, Y/N went back by Yin Zhen’s side, and to the trained eye, it was obvious the both of them were radiating with pride for one another.

The second test is about Poetry. Western Liang’s envoy is rather accomplished in literature, however, no one can defeat Yin Zhen’s outstanding talent.

“Y/N, you write for me. You have beautiful calligraphy and can write fast enough. I trust you.” and thus, the two of you sit down at a table in the middle of the banquet - Yin Zhen pours out elegant line after line, as Y/N carefully writes down the love poem that, no doubt was dedicated to her. An hour elapses and neither admits defeat. No one dares to even breathe heavily, fearing they might disturb the two poets.

Despite everyone’s concentration, the ink maid’s hand trembles just enough to pour ink all over Y/N’s paper and clothes.  “What’s your problem?!” Y/N gasped from shock at being covered by the black liquid. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean it!” the maid nonchalantly says as she bows to the groud. “I saw it perfectly. That maid didn’t mean it... But the maid that writes has got such a temper!” unable to say anything, Y/N looked at the Prince who allowed her to quickly go change into another outfit, just as beautiful and chosen by him, and return. That Princess was going to be roasted pork very soon. “Careless as that maid is, this one is only too stupid. They both should be punished, or that’s unfair for 4th Prince.” the evil Princess sneered. “Western Liang is nowhere near the sea, but I have a feeling the Princess of Western Liang lives by the sea.” Yin Zhen retorted immediately. “What does that mean?” the Princess asked, confused, only for Y/N to smirk at her beloved’s silver, witty tongue. To think that this Bitchy Princess would trouble herself with a sea of trivials, despite her affections for him. “Your Highness, I am willing to make up for my mistake and write down what 4th Prince just composed, not missing a single word.” and so she did, shocking the Princess with her fantastic memory and even more, her elegant calligraphy. And thus, Yin Zhen gets easily the 2nd win.

The two then needed a break and went outside, to look at the beautiful moon and feel the chilly breeze of Spring. Y/N, without a care, leaned on Yin Zhen’s, sighing content.

“I know I’m amazing, but to think some bitchy Princess would get jealous of me... That’s something else.” Y/N muttered, clinging lazily on his sleeve. “I know she has ill-intentions towards you. That maid, my men have been tracing her. She is working for the Princess to frame you.” the Prince spoke, aggravated. “Well, good for her. She couldn’t beat us. We are the true perfect match of Heaven and Earth. Nothing can keep us apart.” Y/N scoffed at the lame princess’s intentions, making the Prince chuckle.  “Fearless as always. You are incredible.” he commented, simple, but effective. “Oh, you should see yourself, my darling. Do you know what the 3rd test is about?” she asked, only to see him shake his head. “Not sure yet, no. But whatever it is, I fear the Princess would want to be the one to compete against you. She’s just that petty.” the Prince explained, only for a servant to call the two inside.

Apparently, the Princess decided that the last test would be, lo’ and behold, Dancing. It was perfect. She knew just what to do.

“I am just a maid. Never have I thought I’d have the privilege to compete against Her Highness, the Princess of Western Liang.” Y/N bowed in front of the Princess gracefully, only for the Princess to sneer arrogantly. “You don’t deserve it! However... You played a part in the two previous tests. I’d like to see if you really have what it takes, or you are just borrowing help from the 4th Prince. So? You dare not?!” the Princess raised her voice aggressively. “I do have nothing that’s worth mentioning... However, I do believe that dancing should be one of my strengths. Allow me to change into the appropriate outfit for dancing and I shall show you, Your Highness.” and thus, Y/N quickly left the banquet to change into a beautiful Tang dynasty pink outfit the flowed like water around her, highlighting her featured delicately. Her hair, she had the top part in a bun, with beautiful golden hair pins decorated with agate and pearls, and wore agate earrings as well. On her face, despite the gorgeous make up, she had a half mask, outstandingly embellished with different precious gems that would sparkle brighter than the whole Western Liang.

Y/N watched the Princess dancing first - A rather basic dance, beautiful, yet, but of no fantastic feat. Despite all this, all envoys seem to think very little the little Physician girl, and even His Majesty and his Ministers seem to show little faith in her. Understandable, she thought, considering that all her life she strayed away from luxuries and feminine arts and studies. 

“Do you see? Looks like you are just a slave girl to everyone! You don’t deserve the competition against me!” the Princess laughed, taunting the girl, who merely smiled. “Then, Your Highness might want to be careful... Because losing to me... It’s really mortifying.” and thus, hearing the Prince reassuring his father that she will win without a doubt, Y/N proceeded in dancing the most beautiful dance.

Lanling Prince in Battle.

Throughout the month, she has been perfecting this dance in front of Yin Zhen, and it was his favourite. Such a tragic love story, of two lovers, their hearts and souls united in life and in death, no matter what. A love story of a woman loving a man so much that she would even march to war to bring him back. A love story of a man so tormented by his wife’s death that he goes insane and destroys everything in his path.

The half mask, symbolizing the beautiful features of the man, and the beautiful face of the woman, a dance that symbolizes their feelings, their love, themselves, the fate, their life - A single dance, a single person, symbolizing two soulmates.

It was the perfect dance, and it was to no wonder that this was their favourite dance... To dance together. Although it was a dance for one person alone, Yin Zhen could never resist embracing her and dancing with her. He couldn’t resist touching her and holding her up in his graces as if she was a Goddess.

It took every ounce of strength the Prince had not to join her in the dance, but as she finished, everyone was so in awe that they forgot to breathe, only to then burst into cheerful and loud applause.

“I... Lost? No... No way... How...?” the Princess was shocked as if by lightning. Absolutely horrified that a slave girl was infinitely better than her. “Do tell me how the Prince helped me here.” Y/N smirked condescendingly at the Princess who started growling. “Y-You...! How dare you?! A stupid slave girl, speaking back to me?! You deserve to be punished!” the Princess started wagging her finger accusatory at her. “Like you wanted to punish the maid who deliberately threw ink on the poem paper, realizing that Western Liang cannot, in this world, beat the Prince’s genius? Is this what Western Liang has to do to win? Cheat and frame? How ridiculous and disappointing.” Y/N shrugged simply, walking by the 4th Prince’s side. “Your Majesty! She wants me to call white black and even sow discord between the two nations! Justice be served, Your Majesty!” the maid shrieked, pointing at Y/N, as the girl sighed, taking off the mask. “I’m the bad guy now, huh?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I got my people, and you don’t have the right to an opinion here. You are from Western Liang.” the Prince, having made a secret investigation earlier, seemed to have enough evidence to get those two into trouble, but now enough to actually create a war. “As virtue rises one foot, vice rises ten. Prince, you are incredible. The maid was going to make you trip. If you had, no matter how beautiful you danced, there was no way you would have won. Still, you were as beautiful as ever. Congratulations, you are the reason behind Qing’s wins. I told you I know why I have faith in you completely.” he praised as he poured her a cup of wine, making her seat next to him and celebrate their win, as the Princess is taken out of the palace to receive punishment when she returns home.

And thus, Western Liang not only lose all 3 tests, but they are also completely humiliated by their Princess’s cheating, and present the hairpin, shamefully.

“Son, you earned this hairpin, I will confer it upon you!” the Emperor handed the hairpin to his son, who bowed his head as a thanks. “I thank you, Royal Father. However, may I ask for another grace? To give it to someone else?” he asked, as the Emperor laughed. “Now that I’ve given it to you, it’s totally up to you.” and thus, as Yin Zhen opens the delicately embellished box, he takes out the hair pin, walking in front of Y/N. “Come here. I promised I will be the one to put accessories in your hair. You earned this, my love.” he said as he put his hand on her waist, kissing her forehead. “U-Uh... Yin Zhen... Everyone is looking at us.” Y/N muttered bashfully, unable to look at him. “Good. I want them to know that you are my wife, and my future Empress, and that if anyone even dares to think of laying a finger on you, they are going to be brutally disposed of.” he smiled sweetly, lifting her chin up with his finger. “Very bold, doing that in front of even your Father. Very good. What a wonderful husband I have.” she chuckled lightly as she was guided outside, to watch the fireworks show. “I already told him I want to marry you. Wasn’t much he could say after today’s wonderful wins. I have to say, you are really good at making people do what you want.” Yin Zhen chuckled lightly, bringing the girl to his chest. “You know what I think? That you talk too much and that you should kiss your wife more often. How’s that sound, My Darling Emperor?” Y/N smirked like a vixen. “I love the sound of that... My Little Physician Empress.”

[thatlongspringnight]

A Crown in Springtime (Jungkook x Fem!Reader)

summary: When Jungkook caught the eye of the queen that night, he didn’t realize just how much it would change his life for the better.

pairing: Jungkook x female Reader

genre: arranged marriage au, lust at first sight, romance

word count: 6.2k

❂ amorentia in spring

⁂ hosted by: professor amora through @bangtansorciere​

⤐  au type: daffodil

⤐  themes: spring, honeymoon

⤐  kinks: Edging ⤞ Praise ⤞ Cunninglus ⤞ Fingering ⤞ Handjob ⤞ Thigh Riding ⤞ Hair Pulling ⤞ Creampie ⤞ 

Jungkook is nervous, it bleeds into him like the cold of midwinter, a stark difference from the blossoms of early spring that surround him. Even now, in the sunshine of early morning, he shivers, nerves leaving him tense as he feigns calm, leaning back on the veranda as though nothing has changed, nothing is different, letting the sun soak into his bones. 

But everything has changed. He’s more tense now then he was a day ago, when he was kneeling at the ancient altar, handfasting himself to a woman he barely knew for life, for the hereafter too….And not just any woman. His liege, his queen...now his wife. His father had talked of nothing else for the last two months...since...since the betrothal. All he could speak on was the arrangement, brooking no talk or protest from him, nothing but smiling and acceptance. 

A savior - his father had called her, the queen their savior, rescuing them from poverty. 

“She chose you.” It had been repeated so many times, the idea that he should be grateful, grateful for this arranged marriage. He should be full of joy even, plucked from obscurity to marry her. But...but he doesn’t know her, he can’t wrap his mind around why she would pick him She could have anyone after all...so why him? 

Before the wedding...he could count the number of times he had seen her on one hand. A - A little older than him, a couple of years, maybe - he hadn’t known a world where she had not been queen. She had grown up with a crown on her head, a sword in her palm, and the shadow of a dynasty weighing on her shoulders. A child queen raised on tales of her ancestors, long dead, war and conquest. He...He had heard that she had been in want of a husband.

His father had even suggested his older brother, his heir - but never once had his name been mentioned. Not until....not until that night - two months ago, when - when she had smiled at him, eyes alight in mirth and something he didn’t have a name for yet, asking him to dance after a dinner.

They had gone to court for the winter celebration, and he had felt her eyes on him during the meal, offering her a soft smile, as - as was proper.

She’d asked him to dance, first - his thoughts repeated, an honor, one that had given him the warmth of her palm in his, her eyes trailing up his face.

“Your hair.” She had murmured, a hand going to play with the strands. “Blue like the ocean.” His own personal magic, how the fae had manifested in him. He wondered how it manifested in her…

Either way…was that why? Was that why she had picked him? Not even two days after, she had offered his father...and the deed had been done..all leading up to yesterday, kneeling at the altar, him bedecked in clothes woven of silver thread, blue sapphires dripping from them, from the crown she laid on his head. Joining him at the altar, covered in gold. He felt like the moon, lit only by her golden glow. 

Somehow, somehow he had made it through, repeating ancient vows that dipped magick into his blood, feeling their bond form as sure and strong as the rope that bound their hands. Somehow that day had faded to night, banquets and being whisked away - a honeymoon in the mountains - early spring blossoms filling the air with perfume. 

A honeymoon, but still - no bride. The thought alone is enough to stir something, a gentle sigh making him jolt. Her, he knows its her, he can feel it, looking up to meet her amused gaze. The - the queen, his queen, he dips his head, scrambling to sit properly, to bow…

At least until her fingertips press his forehead, stilling him instantly.

“No Need.” her voice still shocks him, calm and easy - sweet too - like the last drops of sap from a tapped tree at the end of winter. “Especially not here.” 

“....Not here?” 

“You haven’t noticed?” She smiles now, and it makes him feel warm. “We’re all alone. No one dares to interrupt their queen on her honeymoon.” He’s watching her, stepping to sit beside him, legs dangling like his were just moments before. 

“And...and if we weren’t alone?” He curses how slowly the words seem to come to him, trailing and trembling in her presence, but he can’t help it. His position feels uncertain, her husband, but what does that make him. He’s no king. 

“Then you’d only need to nod your head.” She hums, a hand lifting up, moving to block the light, to let the sun’s rays break between her fingertips. “You’re a prince now, anyway, my darling, people will be bowing to you.” She says it so easily, like it doesn’t alter his entire life. “But….between us.” She continues. “I’d like it to be different.” This is the most she’s ever spoken to him, and he finds himself entranced at her lips, the way she forms words. 

“Different?” He mumbles, barely aware he’s asked.

“Different, friends at least.” She tilts her head to look at him. “Maybe even more.”

“F-Friends?” he questions, eyes widening. “With me?” “Is that so odd?” She snorts. “To want to be friends with my husband?” “....No.” He answers after a moment. “Well  - just a little.” 

“At the end of the day, I’m just a normal girl, you know.” Words he doesn’t believe, not even for a moment. 

The day passes, the coolness of the morning fading to a gentle heat, and he learns - Jungkook learns about his wife. 

More than he’s bargained for.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” She pushes her own plate of food at him. “Here, eat up.” They are lounging again, on the veranda, which seems to be her favorite place, his too, where the breeze is gentle, and the flowers bloom so heavily nearby it smells like a garden. “It will get cold and you won’t want it.” Its a simple pronouncement, one that makes him pout. 

“How do you know?” He answers her, watching how her lips twitch into a smile. “Maybe i want it cold.” “As your Queen, I demand you eat.” That pronouncement is met with him grumbling, before he sits up, a look in his eyes that makes her raise an eyebrow. 

“Feed me then.” Jungkook demands, a petulant lilt to his voice, even as he tries to hide his smile.

“What?”

“Feed me.”He gives her a grin, one that makes her heart beat quicken, not that he knows, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Come on - “ He throws her words from before back in her face. “Feed me or else everything’s going to get cold.”

“What a baby.” The woman complains, not at all fooled by the sweet look on his face. “You’re not playing fair, Jungkook.” His name, whenever she says it, makes his stomach flutter with butterflies. Still, he doesn’t even pout at being called a baby, too triumphant at her shifting to face him, reaching to pick up a slice of meat, offering it to him. “Your highness.” She mocks, and he could only snicker, enjoying the taste on his tongue.

It is delicious.

“So good – its delicious.” The smile he shot her was enough to make the woman feel a brush of something she chose not to name. Damn this boy, damn him for making doing something so simple as eating so attractive.

 It made her want to tease him, and that made her smile, something he notices. “You – you gave in really easily.” Jungkook spoke after a moment of comfortable silence. She had, this woman who had led his people in war, had fed him just now, without much protest at all. “Maybe you can feed me every day.” Did he enjoy it? Yes, of course he did, but unfortunately for him, the words seemed to click something into place for her.

 “Oh, you want me to feed you every day?” The woman purred, managed to snag a bite of her own food before setting down her plate. The air shifts, a shiver coursing through him, the trees seeming to shiver too. “Tell me something, Jungkookie.”

“W-What?” He speaks, a bit of alarm on his face as she leaned over him, her body suddenly very close. “T-Tell you what?”

 “Ahh..” She settles herself close to him. So close, their shoulders touch, and when she leans over, their noses nearly brush. “Tell me, are you sure you want this every day?” This time, when she offers him food, he is slower to take it, his cheeks warm. It feels heady, being close to her like this, and he wonders if this intimacy will ever feel anything other than clandestine. “Jungkook, I asked you a question.”

 “Ngh.” The boy looked up, his nose brushing hers. “I – I wouldn’t mind.” He breathes. Her chest was too close to his face, and the skin she exposed…it was right there. His lips could brush her collarbones if he looks straight ahead. Suddenly a warm day felt blazing hot. “I – I’m thirsty – “ He managed to speak, unsure of how he even got his voice to work.

 “Thirsty?” A teacup was balanced in her hand in an instant, her hold graceful…almost delicate. “Tea, your highness?”

“Don’t call me that.” He protests. “I – you’re the Queen - I’m just - “ “You’re my husband.” She answers, offering him a sip. “Your highness is an appropriate title.” 

“But to you, I should just be Jungkook.” He answers her, and she can only smile. 

“Can I taste too?” its a shift in conversation, but Jungkook nods, assuming she’d just…take a drink from his cup – which is why his brain short circuits the moment the cup was pulled away, replaced by her lips.

 Cherry blossom tea is at first just a hint of salt – one that fades to a mellow sweetness, floral notes and plum. Jungkook thinks to himself. Those grounded musings lost at her lips. She is kissing him, and he is overwhelmed, the taste of her and the cherry blossom tea an all too dangerous combination for him, leaving him lightheaded. She is kissing him -  and he could have whined, the angle of their bodies meaning he couldn’t move his hands from the ground, or they’d both tumble over.

 And he didn’t want to lose the fierceness of her kiss -  her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands hard enough for him to whimper, the sound lost as her tongue explored his mouth, stealing the taste of tea from his lips.

 He is on fire, he is in bloom under her touch.

 And then she pulls away, panting against his lips, her own cheeks flushed.

 “I like it – the tea. Its good on its own…but its better tasting it on your lips, pretty boy.” Jungkook could faint.

 “I – y-you can’t just….you can’t just say things like that!”

“Do you need a moment?” She is stretching out like a cat in the sun. “We should make flower crowns next, my prince.” 

Jungkook truly looks like a fish out of water in that moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock, and She could’ve laughed at the blush high on his cheeks. She had got him right where she wanted him, he realizes. The lilt to her voice was teasing as she gives him a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong, Jungkook?” 

 “I-“ He gulps, unable to speak, the taste of salt and honey still strong on his tongue from their kiss. It is too much- she is too much. “A-Actually, my throat is still dry.” He clears his throat once, then twice as if he was trying to prove it to her. “I might n-need another drink...”

 “Well, that is a problem, isn’t it.” She tilts her head to the side in mock sympathy and he nods, almost a little too eagerly, giving it away.

 “It is, yes. Maybe- maybe you could help me drink again?”

 “Hmm, I could...but you also have two perfectly good hands to use so.” She shrugged. “That sounds more like a problem than a me problem.”

 “But maybe I’d rather use my hands for...other things.” He is trying to tempt her- and failing miserably as she barely spared him a second glance, too busy focusing on gathering the materials for the flower crowns, something that he wasn’t as interested in now as he had been before.

 “Well that’s good, seeing as you’ll need them to make your crown. What flowers did you want?”

Making flower crowns was relaxing – that is the thought after a few minutes, as he hummed softly, twisting the flowers around the ribbon, grinning as they connected. It was unconscious, he sways softly, humming under his breath. He used to make so many of them, for the whole court…and his father would always pick his over his brother’s…

 “Ugh – “ The frustrated sound from beside him, pulls him from his memories, and he pauses, listening softly to the woman’s grumbles. Glancing down, he finds a bit of a mess, and it made him grin – he didn’t want to say anything though – not wanting to break her focus – that is until she hissed through her teeth, the flowers literally bursting from their ribbon, scattering around her.

 “Gah – “She grimaces, and he laughs outright, her head whipping around at the sound, finding him already wearing his…

 And it was beautiful…of course.

 “Having some trouble– “

“Its not easy.” She huffs. “You must be cheating somehow.”

“I did not!” Jungkook protests. “I just have more experience is all  - “

“I can’t do it.” She straight up whines, and Jungkook grins, giggling in earnest, scooting closer to her. How was she so cute, struggling like this, gathering up her flowers. In this moment she is just a girl, and he is just a boy - He can’t help but be brave.

 “Here...”He croons,  reaching for her, pulling her closer so he can watch. “Let me teach you.” Only after does he realize how informal he’s being, shooting her a worried glance, only to be met by a little pout. 

 “I-I don’t need any help!” She curses under her breath, her stammer hardly hidden as she gives him a little glare. “I can do it!”

“Here.” His chin rested on her shoulder, hands gently taking hers in his. “You made your stems too short so they were harder to wrap.” Those flowers get set aside as he picks others from the pile. “These longer ones will work better.

 She was silent as she watched him manipulate her hands with his own, twisting the flowers so it entwined with the ribbon, the dyed material looking so good against his skin. 

 “...try?” The sudden baritone of his voice makes her jump.

 “What?”

 “I said, why don’t you try.” He has the gall to sound amused and she finds herself scowling at his grin. Even if she couldn’t see it- she felt it. “Let’s try to pay more attention when I’m teaching you, alright?”

 “Give me that.” She grabs the flower crown from him, ignoring the sound of his laugh, his body shaking next to her. Jungkook watches her, how she furrows her brows, grabbed another flower- daisies this time, and carefully winds it around the ribbon like he had showed her, focusing hard on her task.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself, wistful almost. Beautiful, and he’s hers. 

Beautiful, and wants him just as bad as he wants her - something he finds out the next morning, the veranda a place of more than just relaxing in the sunshine. 

“You should call me Noona.” Her voice is a purr against his ear, the kind that makes Jungkook shiver, tensing against her light touch. And it is like, fingers trailing his skin, delicate in the way they touch him, make him yearn for more...its...unexpected, how she makes him feel desirable and full of desire for her all at once. 

“N-Noona - “ He stammers, breath hitching at her fingertips parting the robe he’s wearing, dancing across his chest. “Ngh - you - “ “You’re so pretty.” She murmurs. “I wanna make you feel good.” He’s tensing at that, but the pit in his stomach is full of butterflies and aching, nothing like fear clinging to him now. “I don’t want you to regret...this...with me.” “This…?” he asks, confusion bleeding into his tone. “This...now?” “Now - and...our marriage.” She confesses, face dipping lower, lips ghosting across the juncture of his throat. “I want to make it worth it for you.” “Why is it worth it for you?” He wonders aloud. “I’m no one at all - “ “You’re magic itself.” She counters, and this time its a kiss against his neck, not just lips, this time her hand finds purchase on his chest, fingernails a dull scrap against his skin. It feels good, and he whines softly, adjusting to the feeling. “Beautiful, sweet - Strong.” She says, and she can feel his cheeks heat. “What, is it embarrassing to hear?” She sounds almost amused, blowing lightly at the strands of his hair, soft blue in the clear, cloudless sunshine.

“T-That - “ He nearly chokes on his own spit. “That - that’s taking it a little too far.” Its almost scolding. “How can you know that?��

“I want to know everything there is to know about you.” She answers. “And to show you all of me, too, if you...if you’ll let me.” 

“I want to...to see you.” He answers, honestly, after a moment. “You’re my wife after all, my bride.” There is a smile, hers, against his skin. 

“Such a good boy.” She praises, and he cannot help the pleased feeling under his skin, the way he nods, preening a little under her words. “Such a pretty, darling man.” Her hand, trailing lower, bringing new, ticklish feelings to his skin.

This type of affection wasn’t altogether new to him, romps with boys and girls in the stables up...up until recently, but this is different too, there is a feeling there he’s not used to, a longing coming from the woman that registers in his heart. 

He can feel her loneliness, the ache in her soul - and he wants to fill it as best he can. Maybe that’s what she had seen in him that night, that same feeling - deep in his heart - that deep alone that kept him up at night. 

So he kisses her, adjusting so he’s nearly in her lap, back to her chest, turning to catch her gaze. His lips meet hers and he sees her eyes widen, before his own shut, one of her hands coming to cup his cheek, thumb stroking idly against his skin. It’s sweet - soft, at least for a moment. But they’re both ravenous, he realizes, when it’s his hands that find purchase on the dainty silk robe that hid her form. Ravenous as she bites at his bottom lip, earning a whine, a whimper - when he looks up again, there is something molten in her gaze, and in his stomach. 

He wants her, and - 

“Ngh -“ he muffles the sound of surprise in his throat as she shifts them, so now it’s her, legs parted on either side of his thigh, sitting with her hands pressed against his chest. “I - I -“ 

“You?” She asks, like she hasn’t put them in a compromising position, little smirk at her lips. “Cat got your tongue, Jungkook?” Her thumb parts his lips, delight on her face as he opens his mouth, lets her press it to his tongue. “I’d be glad to have your tongue on my kitten.” The slang is enough to make him sweat, heat prickling against his skin. 

He’s wearing too many clothes - even if all he’s in is a night robe, the mid morning sun has left him languid and warm, her touch has set fire to his skin - and her - so close to him, nose brushing at the skin of his cheek, coaxing him closer, mouth meeting his with more fervor, hands tangling in his hair. 

She’s pulling at the strands, drawing a whine from his lips as her hips rock forward, as his hands find purchase on her hips - registering what she’s doing before his mind catches up. 

“N-noona -“ it’s a moan as they part, him panting softly, him trying his best to capture her lips again, only for her to evade. “I want to kiss you.” 

“Do you?” She asks, a soft hum on her lips as she brushes them by his ear, earning a shiver. “Badly?” 

“Everywhere.” He’s feeling bolder now, straightening his posture so he can give her more - tensing the muscles of his thighs as she rocks - rewarded with a surprised, pleased little noise, even more at how he shifts her himself, across the strength of his thigh, exposed now. 

“Not worried we’re going to get caught?” She asks, met with beautiful, darkened eyes. 

“You said that I didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing us.” He reminds. “Who’d dare interrupt their queen?” He mimics her voice from before, pleased when she laughs, when she grips lightly at his hair, tugging again just to make him whine.

“Brat.” But her tone is fond, like she’s seen him and found nothing displeasing in the least. “But you’re right, no one would dare.” She eyes him, noting the way his hands grip at her, eager to get her out of her clothes. “Don’t you try it.” She warns before he can act. “Seeing me naked is something that you’ll have to earn I’m afraid.” Even as she says that, her hand is grasping at the tie around his, her eyes meeting his own, seeking a silent permission he gives readily. 

The ribbon holding it closed is pulled away, her hand making contact with his lower stomach. Dipping lower, finding purchase on something that makes him hiss. 

“A-Ah - “ “Hard.” She poses, and its not a question, its an observation. He’s hard. “Pretty.” She tacks on. “Even your cock is pretty.” He feels like he could combust, head dropping to hid in the crook of her neck.

“N-Noona.” He whines. “Don’t say that.” 

“Come on, Jungkookie.” There is a note of challenge to her tone. “Are you just going to sit here while I touch your dick? Or are you going to help your wife, hm?  She glances at his hands on her hips, looking back up at him. 

Its enough, he’s back at it, biting his lip as she touches him, and her touch is light, light as she trails fingertips against the head of his cock, dips them down to grasp at him, pulling her hand away so she can lick her palm. He’s entranced, only shifting her hips because she told him to, entirely too focused on her damp palm meeting his skin again, dragging up, up, up.

But that’s not the only sensation. Its her, rutting against his thigh when he’s not fast enough, thumbing at his tip. He is conscious of his moans, soft and eager, and that’s about it, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“N-Noona - “ “Beautiful.” She answers him, and he can feel her - her essence against his skin, he’s flustered. “Lazy.” She teases and he whines, this time actually dragging her against his thigh. Again, then again, over and over - movements faltering as her drag up his skin sped up.

It - it was so hard to focus - 

“I-It would be easier if I was inside you.” He finally counters, words catching up with his thoughts - and that gets a reaction, her thighs clamping around his, her movement stuttering. “If y-you let me - “ “Already at the business of begetting heirs?” her palm slips from him and he whimpers. “Not yet, if you want it, I need it first.” She warns. She doesn’t mind being selfish, he already knows - and he doesn’t mind it either. 

“Then let me give it to you.” He’s pulling away, eyeing her. “Let me - let me worship you, on my knees, since you’re my...my queen - my wife.” and he is on his knees, already, something that clearly pleases her.

“Worship me?” She asks, perching up on her hands, legs stretched out in front of her. “You mean between my thighs, where you belong, right?” His cock is still hard, she muses, still throbbing and leaking, and eager - but making him wait was good, bringing him close to the edge and then not letting him…

Perfect.

“Can I?” He asks again, needing more than that from her. “Please - “ “You should talk less.” She answers him. “You’re wasting time you could be worshipping me.” It spurs him forward, but she meets him halfway. He is pushed down, pulled forward, till his nose was brushing against her core, silk robe falling around exposed hips and soon enough her legs were resting on his shoulders, holding him in place. He looked up, finding her flushed, seemingly eager. 

“This – this is what you want?”

“Come on, Kookie –  You said you wanted to worship me, to be on your knees before me...So…why don’t you show me what that mouth does…besides teasing.”

 “Ngh -!” Jungkook flushes hard at the crude words that fall from her lips, his whole body uncomfortably hot. He wants to hide his face from her dark gaze but with the firm grip she had on his hair, he couldn’t move. Even then, he isn’t sure he could, trapped in her gaze the way he was. “V-Vulgar.”

 “I’m just telling you what I want, Jungkookie. You said you were going to….so do it.” The way she is looking at him makes that fire ignite in his blood again, a deep sense of desire and wanting.

 Because she is right. Jungkook wants to watch as she fell apart, her thighs trembling from around his head, his name like a prayer on her lips as her back arched with pleasure. 

 He wants nothing more.

 “Okay.” He murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to her thighs, intent on getting her just as hot as he felt. “You’re so wet for me, Noona.” Slowly, he ghosts his mouth over her core before going to press kisses to her other thigh, not missing the way she tensed and let out a little huff when he passed over her center.

 “I’d be wetter if you actually used your tongue on me.”

 “Maybe so.” He hums, letting his thumb brush over her clit, the corners of his lips twitching upwards at her soft whimper and he wonders if she tastes as sweet as the noises she makes, as sweet as the honey that he had tasted on her tongue earlier. Jungkook lets his gaze rest on hers before giving an experimental circle of his tongue on her clit, the woman jolting at the touch.

 “J-Jungkook-!“

 He doesn’t pause, his eyes still on hers as he wraps pretty lips around her pearl, giving a gentle suck, just to see how she’d react, a finger drawing over her entrance.

 Jungkook is not disappointed at her reaction, her hands falling free of his hair, digging into the wood of the veranda beneath her. She moans, a pleased – heady sound, her heels pressing into his back, pushing him closer and closer to her core. So – so she liked that, then,  Jungkook took note, returning to kitten licking at her.

 Don’t try to overwhelm her with the first thing you find she likes, take your time, savor her, till she’s aching with need - advice from his older brother about what to do with girls - he’d taken it, and it had always seemed to work. he took a breath, his warmth ghosting over her as he pressed his finger against her.

 “Noona – c-can – can I?” Jungkook asked, wanting to make sure.

 “Yes –! ngh – “ She tenses at the feeling of his finger. “F-Fuck… please – “ He slid a finger inside of her, the feeling making him whimper against her core. She – she was so warm, clenching around him...

 “O-Oh –“ He couldn’t help press his hips against the floor, searching for friction. How was it going to feel…buried inside of her, the hot, and wet and – and tight. He really was going to have to work her over now…because he doubted he was going to last very long at all. “Noona – you – you feel – so good.” Her thighs pressed against his face, and her head was tossed back.

 “More – Kookie – more, y-you can be more rough with me.” His name on her lips, the endearment not lost on him, spoken so fondly, with such need – Jungkook can’t help himself but give in to her desires. Sliding his finger out, till she whined at the empty feeling, this time her thrust two in, harder, teeth just lightly grazing her clit. If – if she wanted rough –

 “A-Ah! Jungkook!” the moan was sinful, and more of a cry, a shudder going through her as she tenses – “Ngh…ah..” He is thrusting his fingers into her, sitting up to press a kiss to her stomach, to bite lightly at her skin.

 “Noona – Noona – you’re driving me crazy –“ The boy pants, still rutting into the floor. “You – ngh – you sound so hot, I – I can’t – “

“Jungkook- “ Her voice sounds almost scolding. “Don’t – don’t you dare get yourself off.” He froze, not realizing she could tell.”

“B-But…But Noona –“ he whines, met with her hands in his hair again, pulling roughly.

 “No – you – you’re pleasuring me now. Just me.”

 Just her...

 Jungkook wanted to pout, to whine more at her scolding. It- it was hard to not lose himself over in the sound of her moans, the cry of his name falling from her lips. He couldn’t help that he wanted to be inside of her, actually inside of her- not just his fingers. To have her clenched tight around him.

 “J-Jungkook, move..” His wife gives a little wriggle of her hips, huffing at the stilling of his fingers. Brat. Trying to get off by himself- like she wouldn’t notice the shift of his hip and his soft whimpers against her skin. She gives him a cool look from his place between her legs. “Unless you want me to finish what you started on my own-“

 “N-No!” He blurted, his doe eyes wide at her implication. “No, Noona.” He repeated, slowly resuming his finger work, her shuddering in response. “Let- let me take care of you.” And then his mouth was on her again, sucking, licking, his fingers crooking inside of her- crooking his fingers to find that spot that’d make her see stars. He’d know just by the way-

 “A-Ah -“ Her grip on his hair tightened, holding him in place. “Ngh, K-Kookie, right- right there.” She moans. “D-Don’t you dare stop.” She could feel him smirk against her and honestly, she would’ve said something if it didn’t feel so fucking good, his tongue flattening against her clit before circling around the nub. She was close, she could feel it- that pleasure growing tight like a bow that was being strung. She was just about to fall until-

 Until-

 “S-Stop -!”

 Her gasp took him by surprise, her pulling him away from her immediately. Jungkook blinked up at her, confusion on his face. She had told him not to stop before... Had- had he done something wrong? “Noona...?”

 “C-Come here.” She shifts then, pulling him up to her so she could capture his lips with hers, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hands dropped to his waist, a whine in Jungkook’s throat, his hips bucking against her hand as she palms at him again, a whimper as she bites down on his lip.

 “Ngh, Noona, why...why’d you have me stop?” He felt his dick twitch in her hand and gods, he wishes he could feel her properly. “Y-You were close, a-ah, I could feel it.”

 “I was, you’re right.” Finally- finally, she moves, grasping his hand to put it against the tie of her robe.. “But if I’m going to cum...then I want to be doing it around your cock- not your fingers. I want you to see all of me.” That’s all he needs, pulling at it, undoing it - watching the silk slip from her shoulders, slowly exposing all of her.

She’s beautiful, but he already knows that. 

 “Jungkook.” Her voice is breathy, and her fingers traced patterns against the skin of his chest as he takes her in. “Kookie – you’re – you’re breathtaking.” He whines softly, hiding his face against her neck again, clearly flustered at her words.

“I -  I should be telling you that - “ He protests, but she is unabashed.  

“Jungkookie…” A hand dipped lower, finding purchase on his cock, swollen, pre-cum dripping.

 He is big. And even his dick was pretty, smooth and straight, with a gentle curve upward, She thinks wryly, wondering how physical perfection had managed to manifest itself so clearly in this man. Like every bit was crafted to draw a reaction from her, to make her long for him, yearn for him, need to have him.

She had known from the moment she’d seen him. 

“Noona- “ 

“I’m yours to take.” She answers the unspoken question, pulling him to her, till he is gripping at her hips, glad that he had something to hold onto so his hands wouldn’t shake, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted her hips upwards. Slowly, slowly, he sinks into her. Glad not to have to wait anymore, a whine on his lips at her heat that surrounds him and he feels her stiffen, her mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ of pleasure. “N-Noona -“

 She is hot and...and so tight around him, clenched like a vice, and he knows- Jungkook knows that he won’t be able to last very long.

 “Ngh-“ A gasp leaves her throat at him suddenly thrusting inside. “K-Kook -“

 “A-Ah, Noona, I- ngh, I can’t help it.” He leans forward, pressing kisses to her neck, her hands coming up to grip at his shoulders. “You- you feel so good.”

“Do i?” She asks, his reaction more than enough to clarify, hips setting a pace that seems to surprise her. “Ngh - you - you feel good too.” 

“A-And you’re beautiful.” Jungkook finally feels brave enough to say it. “I - I’m a little terrified of you, b-but I don’t regret this.” Its sweet, in its own way, and it makes her laugh.

“I hope you never do.” She is kissing him again. 

“W-What about you?” He asks after a moment. “Do you r-regret it?” “Never.” She answers against his lips. “Now, stop this idle worrying, let me feel your cum dripping out of me, instead.”

 “N-Noona – you – you can’t say that.” Jungkook works on steadying himself, methodical in his thrusts, her words echoing in his head. That thought – the feeling of her, he can’t help thrust as deep as he can, feeling her nails dig into his skin, her small pleasured sounds filling the air. He could feel her tense, like this, his name falling from her lips as she gripped at him.

 “K-Kookie – there – that’s it. Ngh – just like that.” She wasn’t shy under him, her legs wrapping around his narrow hips, drawing a soft groan from him.

 “It – ngh – feels too good.” Jungkook whines, only to have her pull him into a kiss…one he wasn’t sure was to silence her or himself. Whatever it was, it was messy, teeth and tongue and sounds of pleasure.

 But – but – he can feel it, that same feeling in his stomach, and he knew he needed to finish her, rewarded with her flat out moan, the loudest sound he had heard come from her, heady and high, when his fingers met her bud, breaking their messy kisses to toss her head back, a shudder coursing down her body.

 “J-Jungkook - !” There it is, the boy is triumphant, rubbing at her roughly – its what she wanted after all – still pounding into her, thrusts growing more and more sloppy with every move. He could feel her again – too, the way she tenses and tightens, but even in his triumph he couldn’t help the words on his lips.

 “Please, please – please Noona, please cum.” He is begging, his own mind hazy with pleasure. “Ngh – need you too…really bad.” He didn’t know what possessed him, slamming into her enough to make him wince, but it was enough.

 It was too much – the feeling of her falling apart, how tight she was, pulsing against him, too much – and he -and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He empties himself in her, feeling very much so like a bucket, tossed to the ground, water spilled. 

“I told you no one would catch us.” She speaks after his breath settles, idly playing with his hair. “My dear husband.” “Y-You - I’m...I’m happy.” His words don’t fit hers, but they do all at once, telling her directly what she wanted to know. “That you chose me to give a crown to.” 

“Your magic sang to mine.” is all she says in return, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Your loneliness called to mine, because you were always meant to be mine...and i was always meant to be yours.” 

[ziseviolet]

Hello! So before I ask, I just want to say that you have an incredible tumblr and I want to thank you for answering questions about Hanfu, it helps a lot! Anyway, I have two doubts about Hanfu. The first one may be silly, but I wonder if in some dynasty fashion women wore earrings. The second question is whether clothing during the Qing Dynasty can be considered Hanfu. Sorry for my bad english!

Hi, thanks for the questions! (image via)

For your first question, please see my post on earrings here. 

As to whether clothing during the Qing dynasty that lasted almost three centuries (1644-1912) can be considered hanfu: the simple answer - no. The more nuanced answer - it depends. 

First of all, some types of hanfu & hanfu accessories were worn from the Ming dynasty into, and throughout, the Qing dynasty without changing their basic forms. Some examples include: religious clothing like Daoist robes, Chinese opera costumes, children’s clothing like Baijiayi (One Hundred Households Robe) and animal hats & shoes (e.g. Tiger hats), yunjian (cloud collars), and mandarin squares & rank badges. These items were commonly worn during the Qing dynasty, and are considered part of hanfu.

What did change was men and women’s everyday clothing. When the Manchu rulers of the Qing dynasty took power, they imposed their fashions on Han civilians. Wikipedia has this to say (x):

“For a period of time, under the dynastic laws after 1636, all Han Chinese were forced under penalty of death to adopt the Manchu male hairstyle, the queue, and dress in Manchu [clothing] instead of traditional [hanfu]. However, the order for ordinary…Han civilians to wear Manchu clothing was lifted, and only those Han who served as officials or scholars were required to wear them…By the late Qing…a great many commoner Han men wore Manchu male attire. For women, Manchu and Han systems of clothing coexisted.”

As you can see, while Han men’s fashion changed quite abruptly, Han women’s fashion evolved more gradually, taking on more Manchu influences as time passed. Let’s take a look at this timeline (source) of the evolution of Han women’s clothing during the Qing dynasty, from the late Ming dynasty to the beginning of the Republican era. 

Rows 1-3: Han women’s clothing during the early Qing dynasty (rows 2-3) was a relatively unchanged continuation of late Ming dynasty hanfu (row 1). Note the hanfu styles of changshan, pifeng, and bijia:

Rows 4-6: As time time passed, more Manchu elements were incorporated. Note the changing shape of the collar & sleeves, and the use of wide decorative borders (rows 5-6):

Rows 7-9: Women’s clothing of the late Qing is markedly different from that of the early Qing. The collars, sleeves, silhouettes, and decorative borders have taken on the distinct forms that most people today associate with Qing dynasty fashion:

Therefore, the modern hanfu revival movement considers Han women’s clothing of the early Qing dynasty to be hanfu, as it overlaps with that of the late Ming dynasty (1, 2):

However, Han women’s clothing of the mid-to-late Qing dynasty is not considered hanfu, due to the many changes it underwent. Rather, it is in the separate category of “Qing Han Nv Zhuang/清汉女装” - “Han women’s clothing of the Qing dynasty”. The image below shows the similarities and differences between Han women’s clothing of the late Qing dynasty (left), and Manchu women’s clothing of the Qing dynasty (right). The main difference is that Han women maintained the two-piece top & skirt style from the Ming dynasty, while Manchu women wore long, one-piece robes. The other elements, however, are quite similar. Note: Manchu clothing is called Qizhuang/旗装. The “qi/旗”in qizhuang is the same “qi” in qipao, and means “banner”. It refers to the Eight Banners system of the Qing dynasty, and is shorthand for the Manchu people (1, 2):

For more detail on the differences between Ming dynasty hanfu and Qing dynasty clothing, @guzhuangheaven has a great post here. 

Here are additional resources on hanfu & its relation to Qing dynasty fashion:

My “Qing dynasty” & “Qizhuang” tags

The “Notes on Qing dynasty costumes” series by @guzhuangheaven

“The Brief History of Qing Dynasty Clothing” article by Newhanfu  

Please note that I am no expert on Qing dynasty fashion, and welcome any corrections/feedback ^^

Hope this helps!

[jimlingss]

Dynasty

➜ Words: 17.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)

➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.

“Absolutely not!” 

You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken.    He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre.   Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….”   You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with.   Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight.   He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child.    “There’s no choice, Y/N.”   “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.”   His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.”   You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal.   You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves.    After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?”   Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”

There is a knock at your door.   “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!”   But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow.   It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side.   “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply.   You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man.    You detest Jungkook.    He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most.   Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this.   “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks.   “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.”   He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless.   “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.”   “I can take care of myself.”   He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery.   //   When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you.   Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye.   He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell.   You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.”   You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on.   At once, you turn around. “Jin!”   You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight.   You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment.   He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”   But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again.   “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed.   You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.   The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air.   Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally.   “We’re going to take a small rest.”   “Okay.”   He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water.   “Are you alright?”   You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst.   You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”   “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….”   “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him.   Jungkook remains silent.   The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either.   And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason.   You are the next one.   The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities.   “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out.   “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.”   The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.”   You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated.   //   Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body.   You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t.    “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks.    You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place.   “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.”   You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat.   The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting.   That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around.   “I knew you weren’t okay.”   “Go away, Jungkook.”   He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he—   “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?”   You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness.   The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil.   “I’m afraid.”   “Of what?”   “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.”   “You need to be strong.”   You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider.   He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone.    You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead.    You’re not sure which is worse.   “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament.   Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.”   Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—”   Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to.    But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest.   After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart.   Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful.    But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space.   Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you.   And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened.   The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance.   Jungkook pulls away from you.    Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him.   He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded.   You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.   But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers.   //   The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs.   By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again.   “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.”   The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be.   But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on.   You arrive no later.   The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all.    But you quickly snap out of your awe.   This isn't paradise. It’s your prison.   The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time.   “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded.   Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.”    You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood.   “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!”   “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily.   “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.”   In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before.   Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well.    The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks.   “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.”   “O-Of course.”   Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.”   “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.”   You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut.    “Strip.”   “P-Pardon me?”   The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.”   “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.”   Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view.   It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory.    “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.”   “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go.   You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?”   “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.”   Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?”   The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.”   You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade.   When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.   “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.”   “I understand.”   “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress.   “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders.   Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles.   “What’s your name?”   “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.”   “What do your parents do?”   “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours.   Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.”   “Yes.”   Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade.   At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother.   But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known.    Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls.    “It’s time.”   You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.    Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil.    Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort.   “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.”   You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he.   But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too.   The moment is too short.   The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right.    Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm.   “All hail Consort Y/N!”   You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.”   Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites.   Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures.    He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven.    He is a puppet.   Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy.   Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off.   The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!”   Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.”   The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet.    “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?”   Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.”   There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are.   The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings.   It ends much too soon.   “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut.   They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground.    The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in.   Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries.   It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive.   This is something you must do.   The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward.   “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.”   Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time.   Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices...   The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming.   As quick as five seconds.    The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you.   It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down.   It’s tempting.   You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet.   So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor.   //   In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name.   You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook.   Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not.   “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through.   If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything.    You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk.   “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?”   “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?”   There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak.    But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows.    Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you.   It would have been fine if you were alone.   If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away.   You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist.   You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin.   But it’s Jungkook.   “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.”   You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands.   You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?”   “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours.    Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here.    “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.”   You nod.   He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did.   //   “All hail Empress Soojin!”   The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair.   “Good morning, Your Majesty.”   “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach.   “It was fine.”   The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.”   You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.   So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.”   “Don’t be foolish.”   “I—”   Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting.   Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents.   “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.”   Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.”   Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant.    You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you.   His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed.    “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time.   You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.”   The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt.   If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body.   Not like Jungkook.   //   The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to.   But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning.   “What is this?”   You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows.   Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom.   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin.   “H-How did you get it here?”   “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.”   You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace.   They need more time. More than three months.   “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.”   He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.”    “How?!”   “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.”   “The Emperor is infertile—!”    But Jungkook isn’t.    And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.”   In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.”   “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob.   “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.”   You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest.   On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night.   And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either.    He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his.   You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground.   His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you.   “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair.   It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to.   But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse.   You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste.   Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him.   “Is this okay?”   You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours.   “Tell me if it hurts.”   “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest.    Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind.   “J-Jungkook…”   Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds.   His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down.    Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected.    Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix.   “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently.    Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss.    Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline.   You break apart.   “Jung—ko...ok.”   “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.   “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.”   The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.”   Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips.   It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming.   Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name.   It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm.   “J-Jungkook!”   He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive.   “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.”   “Is that so?”   There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp.   Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past.   “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall.   “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.”   Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length.   “Yes.”   They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat.   Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes.   You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then—   “Are you alright?”   Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason.   But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again.   “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again.   Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.”   “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.”   He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.

Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation.   “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.”   The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day.   If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work.   “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.”   Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.”   You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears.   But it’s taking too long.   There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you.   As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause.   The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook.   You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted.   “All hail Consort Y/N.”   The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms.   “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features.   You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?”   “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?”   “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.”   Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist.   His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch.    He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.”   The man grins. “But you still came here.”   “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…”   “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg.   You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.”   Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.”   You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…”   “What is it?”   You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.”    Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.”   You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.”   “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you.   “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.”   “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already.   “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.”   “I-I’ve never.”   You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.”   He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.”   “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…”   Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?”   “You never know till you try, right?”    You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face.    You roll off of him as he starts to snore.   You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you.   In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you.    You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to.   The person you’ve been yearning for.   “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?”   “They didn’t and they won’t.”    The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here.   “And what if you were caught?”   “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his.   Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?”   You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?”   The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls.    His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about.    Why you’re so desperate for his touch.   “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod.    Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly.   His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him.   Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre.   You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected.   It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you.   The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center.   Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved.   You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter.   It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness.   Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again.   “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.   You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds.    All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours.   You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer.   You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days.   But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach.   Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.

It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant.   “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile.   You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.”   “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.”   “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.”   “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done.   “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.”   You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes.   He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.

In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters.   The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside.    It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders.   You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm.   “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration.   “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.”   If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again.   You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.”   “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.”   “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…”    The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody.    But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.”   The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…”   Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.”   You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have.   //   Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand.   “Your Majesty…”    The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!”   No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes.   “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.”   Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell.   It’s your child and Jungkook’s.   “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.”   “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.”    When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.”    There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden.   The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations.   Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire.   “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?”   But he never lays a hand on you.   Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.”   “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm.   Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.”   You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.”   “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?”   Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.”   You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her.   But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes.   Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence.   “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”   “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile.    To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.   //   There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly.   It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed.   “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—”   You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.”   The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either.    Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe.   You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you.   And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid.   “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says.   “It was just morning sickness.”   The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.”   “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?”    “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.”   Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.”   “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?”   “I have no idea what you mean.”   Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent.   Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.”   Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit.   Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child.   //   The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks.   But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore.   While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month.   You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind.   You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away.   But it comes at a price.   You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either.   Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against.   You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night.   But it isn’t your imagination.   “J-Jungkook?”   “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.”   He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision.   “I’ll come for you,” he promises.   The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves—   “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.”   He lingers.   If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks.   Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.”   Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades.   //   You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you.   It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then.   You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want.   So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive.   But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night.    “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.”   The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.”   “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?”   One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.”   There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook.    “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.”   “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.”   She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being.   Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over.   And the realization makes guilt well up your throat.   Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back.   “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.”   But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.”   Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!”   “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!”   But they are Hoseok’s guards.    You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin.   But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away.    Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare.   Except, his blade never hits you.   Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut…..   “NO!”    Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop.   Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself.   Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!”   Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor.   The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form.   Empress Soojin collapses.   You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours.   “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…”   You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to.   You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling.    She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace.   You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body.   A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes.   “Jin?!”   Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner.   “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!”   “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?”    You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.”   “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.”   “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.”   “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy.   “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.”    Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?”   “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?”   Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved.   “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?”   “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?”   “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.”   Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause.    But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much.   And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry.   “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?”   “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.”   “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.”   You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers.   “Don’t go.”   But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself.   You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are.   “Seokjin!”   He runs, disappearing into the darkness.   “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!”   You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.

Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around.    He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger.   Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully.   He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine.   And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne.    The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink.   “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!”   “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.”   His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core.   And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin.   There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here.   “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect.   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.”   Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases.    Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember.   So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.”   There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again.   There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment.   He drives the sword forward.   Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest.   Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls.   Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses.   And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time.    The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile.   We’ve won, Y/N.

At the same time, you stumble.

  The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet.    “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle.    But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together.   “J-Jungkook!”   He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to.   But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long.   Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.”   “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.”   “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?”   You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall.   “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title.   He is not an Emperor.   “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach.   “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.”   “You….You!”   There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s.   If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath.   Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death.    “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.”   “But—”   “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.”   He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another.   Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body.   You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop.   Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around.   You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.

[Epilogue]   The dynasty has fallen.   New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not.   After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all.   But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones.   “Minkook, what are you doing?”   You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip.   His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…”   You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?”   Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting.   They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him.   It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born.   You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again.   “Goodnight, Min.”   Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor.    You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps.   The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall.    You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed.   But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat.   You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again.   Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped.   But none of it matters.   Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace.   The two of you are finally reunited at last.

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Have you see The Mandalorian? If so can i ask your opinion about it wrt Chinese rep? I've read your post about the Bad Batch and it seems like Dave Filloni is really keen on portraying east asians as evil, seeing as out of the 4 east asian coded characters in Mando, 2 of them are just immoral and evil aliens given straight up chinese names, and a dictator who specifically is shown to be oppressing her own people. And not to mention the dictator is also not given any back story or character development and is just one dimesional, while the other white ex imperial, mayfeld, gets a whole redemption arc and shown to be a complex character who actually feels bad for what he has done in the past and gets off scott free. This is something that i haven't really seen anyone talk about in terms of sinophobia in star wars, usually they'd mention the Ming Po and i want to talk about it, but i do want to get asecond opinion.

Hey mysteriouslypleasantcat! I have seen The Mandalorian. I've got some thoughts about East Asian/SE-Asian portrayal in the show (and not just Chinese rep). Apologies for replying late to this, but I wanted to give you a longer and more thought-out answer as opposed to a short impulsive one.

General summary: In comparison to the rest of the Star Wars Saga, The Mandalorian does significantly better when it comes to representation of East Asian and Southeast Asian characters. There is very little I would classify specifically as sinophobia in The Mandalorian - rather, much of the issues in this show fall under the overarching issues of racism and lack of proper representation that permeate not just the entire saga but Western media as a whole.

What will be discussed in this post:

Xi'an, Qin, and Lang - the "othering" of Chinese names in the context of the SW Saga appropriating names from non-white cultures.

Morgan Elsbeth - An example of the need for better Southeast Asian representation in Western media.

Fennec Shand - A bad example of representation turned into a great one.

Carson Teva, Governor Wing, and Sash Ketter - Wonderful examples of good representation in minor characters

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More detailed thoughts under the cut:

Names: Xi'an, Qin, Lang

The thing about these characters is that it follows a larger trend in the Star Wars Saga of taking (read: appropriating) names from various non-white cultures. As an example, Ahsoka's name was stolen from Ashoka the Great, an Indian emperor of the Maurya Dynasty.

As for Xi'an, Qin, and Lang, these three one-time appearance characters - all antagonists against Mando - all three of them have heavily anglicized (i.e. mispronounced) Chinese names but are portrayed by non-Chinese actors. All three are shown to be of dubious morality and double-cross Mando without much hesitation.

That being said, there is no shortage of other minor/recurring characters who also do this (e.g. the majority of the cast in The Prisoner; Bo-Katan; Toro Calican; Gor Koresh). There's literally nothing inherently wrong with having devious minor antagonists. However, Xi'an, Qin, and Lang are the only ones with Chinese names within the whole show (correct me if I'm wrong here, I haven't seen the episodes in a while). In a sense, this creates a small sense of alienation to me (e.g. implying that Chinese names are associated with double-faced villains), but it's twisted because the names are so heavily anglicized they've become a warped version of themselves.

Overall, the main issue is that (1) their names are appropriated and (2) they are the only characters with specifically Chinese names within all of The Mandalorian and they are only portrayed as devious, self-serving antagonists. In doing so, it effectively others people who have Chinese names - but also serves the odd effect of not associating Chinese names with Chinese people - by having the audience associate such names with devious, one-dimensional villains.

However, I will add that in the grand scope of things regarding the entire saga, this is relatively minor. As a Chinese person with a Chinese name, this really didn't bother me that much beyond being a minor annoyance (but other Chinese fans are well within their rights to be bothered - this is just my personal opinion). I myself latched onto Fennec Shand and honestly just straight-up forgot the names of most minor characters, including these ones, and looked them up again. On top of that, there's many other minor characters played by East Asian actors. There's other larger issues within the saga and this specific instance is just one very small sample within a much, much larger issue of cultural appropriation.

Character (Antagonist): The Magistrate/Morgan Elsbeth

Morgan Elsbeth is portrayed by Diana Lee Inosanto, who is of South-East Asian (specifically Filipino) descent. As you noted, she is seen as a one-dimensional dictator and is portrayed with a cold-hearted ruthlessness. She's given some backstory (survivor of a massacre) but it's just a one-off line that gives very little to characterization.

The episode she appears in is directly inspired by Kurosawa films. The architecture of her fortress is very obviously inspired by Japanese architecture. But you know who and what else are inspired by Japanese culture? The Jedi. Ahsoka's own costume and sabers are also directly inspired by Japanese culture in this very episode.

Both George Lucas and Dave Filoni have been very clear about the inspiration from Kurosawa films. They've always given credit to those films (they also specifically mention The Hidden Fortress for this episode, I believe), so I don't think this is a case of them stealing it without giving credit.

Also - if there's anybody who's non-Force-sensitive that can hold their own against Ahsoka, it's the goddaughter of Bruce Lee.

Anyway, I digress. Back to Morgan Elsbeth.

There's nothing wrong with having a one-dimensional villain. There's also nothing inherently wrong with having an Asian villain. Asians are human, and we've got good people and bad people. However, the problem comes if the villain is the ONLY Asian representation. Star Wars has an issue where it will put more and more LGBTQ+ and BIPOC representation on the side of the antagonists and morally grey characters (Terisa Kerril, Rae Sloane, Varko Grey), but less so on the very good side. That isn't to say there aren't morally good protagonists that are POC-coded (e.g. Ahsoka, Kanan, Ezra, many characters in Resistance), but there's still a rather large imbalance.

Back to Morgan Elsbeth. The fact is, she isn't the only East/SE-Asian representation in Star Wars or even this show. The characters I'll discuss right after this - Fennec Shand, Carson Teva, Governor Wing & Sash Ketter - are all examples of good representation. Hell, Fennec makes even more of an impact than Elsbeth. So, if you're looking at this purely from the perspective that Elsbeth is indeed East-Asian-coded, I don't think she'd count as bad representation for East Asians.

HOWEVER.

It is true that Elsbeth the only prominent character played by a Southeast Asian actress in The Mandalorian, and she is surrounded predominantly by East Asian architecture and costuming. So this would fall into a problem common to western media in general: the lack of proper Southeast Asian representation specifically, and this larger tendency to just assume that Asia = just East Asia when really, Asians are incredibly diverse and are made up of far more than just Chinese/Korean/Japanese people.

Will they bring her back for a redemption arc like they did for Bill Burr? I don't know. Do they need to? I don't know. It'd sure be nice. But not all villains need a redemption arc. If they go the other way and make her a complex villain, I'm certainly interested.

But what they need isn't a redemption arc for one character. What we need is better Southeast Asian representation in general. Star Wars treated Rose Tico like shit and was terrible in every way to Kelly Marie Tran. As for Disney, Raya and the Last Dragon was something, but for fuck's sake, most of the cast were East Asian. They couldn't even bother to cast more Southeast Asian actors? Please. East Asian cultures and Southeast Asian cultures are different and beautiful in their own unique way.

Character (Recurring) : Fennec Shand

In Season 1, the character of Fennec Shand fell into the problem that Western media as a whole tends to fall into: the villain is the only POC in the whole episode or film, and they're one-dimensional and easily overcome by our white protagonists.

But.

They brought her back. Unrealistic? Kind of. Star Wars seems to have this thing where they keep bringing back dead characters and making them better. They did this with Fennec, and I really love her character. She's badass, intense, and clearly as a strong personal honour code that she follows. Is she self-serving? Yeah, mostly. But if the situation demands it (e.g. Boba saving her, helping Mando out of debt to Boba), she will follow her own moral code and help them out of her own will. They did bring her back in The Bad Batch, and while I have many gripes with that show (including her design), they did certainly flesh out her personality and character. And best of all, it sure looks like she'll be getting a major part in The Book of Boba Fett. That show in itself is AAPI solidarity. I'm excited.

So, to summarize: she started off as a one-off not-so-great example of representation, but turned into a good example. I'm excited to see where her story will go.

Character (Cameo Recurring): Carson Teva

Portrayed by Korean-Canadian Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Carson Teva makes a recurring appearance as one of the New Republic Pilots. It's pretty straightforward - he's shown as someone who's in the familiar and recognizable costumes that's reminiscent of the OT. The message is nice here: that Asians belong in the Rebellion/New Republic too, and that we're there alongside everyone else.

His role was a relatively minor one and seemed to be there mostly to set-up the now-cancelled/shelved Rangers of the New Republic. So - are they going to do anything more with his character? I don't know. I sure hope so. But as far as cameo recurring characters go, this was great to see.

Character (Cameos): Governor Wing & Sash Ketter

Nothing but good vibes here, honestly. Governor Wing was shown as a brave man put in a terrifying situation trying to do his best. He was a minor character - and as such had very little screentime - but the way he was portrayed was enough to make him stand out on his own without the need of Mando (nor Ahsoka) to characterize him. In The Jedi, he's shown to be ready to throw himself into danger to try and help his own people (despite knowing that it's a seemingly hopeless situation), and he's quick to react when there's a threat creeping up on Mando. As far as minor characters go, he's excellent. Amazing. No criticism here.

As for Sasha Ketter, she's portrayed by Deborah Chow and makes a brief appearance in The Prisoner. Like the two others who make a guest appearance - Dave Filoni and Rick Famuyiwa - this is just a brief cameo appearance on the part of the showmakers. They show up as pilots of the New Republic - they're noticeably framed as the good guys, with highly recognizable orange pilot uniforms and X-Wings that takes audiences back to the Rebellion in the OT.

As far as I'm concerned, these two cameos are pretty neat. Nothing wrong with them, and they both made me feel pretty happy. I would love to see more of them, but given how both are portrayed by people who aren't actors by profession (Wing Tao Chao was a former Disney Imagineering Executive and Deborah Chow is a director), it's completely understandable if they stay as they are - minor cameo roles.

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Overall, could be better, could be worse. There are both good and bad examples of representation in this show, and I think while it's extremely important to acknowledge the bad, it's also important to point out the good too.

In regards to the bad - I wouldn't put what I've discussed here under the term of sinophobia specifically. Rather, the issues within the show fall under the general umbrella of problems of racism that are interwoven within the very fabric of the Star Wars Saga (and American media in general). In comparison to other shows (such as TCW and TBB especially), The Mandalorian is a better when it comes to these issues of East/SE-Asian representation.

I'm open to any constructive feedback. Anything else - kindly save it. I'm in no way representative of the entire East Asian or Southeast Asian portion of the fanbase - my opinions are just mine. I am not and never will be the final authority on these. Read this with a grain of salt, do your own research, and come to your own conclusions.

Take care, and MTFBWY.

[crazysleepydreams]

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So this is dedicated to @albinokittens300 and I've got myself a Beta. Just as a heads up: this story ignores most of the things that happened in the last two seasons of GoT, not that they didn't happen. They did just in another way. So enjoy and thanks to my beta elliecat78. So...Hi?

Chapter 1

Sansa Stark - the Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North, Lady Paramount of the North -  needed a break. She needed to leave the banquet hall of the Red Keep: everything was too much to her, but she had to be discreet… It wouldn’t do to offend her hosts Queen Daenerys Targaryen and her husband the King consort Aegon Targaryen (her brother Jon). She smiled at all the right times and responded to all the questions those Lords and Ladies asked her politely, not showing them that she wanted to be anywhere, but here at this Ball in celebration of Spring and the fourth year of the rule of the new (old) Dynasty. This was the kind of celebration a younger, more naive version of herself would have loved and part of her did: Kings Landing and the Red Keep had never looked better. The Queen and King were honestly good at ruling and cared about their subjects, but - and there was always a but -  she hated the real reason this celebration was held: the Queen was barren and the King wouldn’t take a mistress to have a child, so the Queen needed to marry off her brother. 

Her brother was the real reason this celebration was held, so that he could choose a suitable lady to marry or at least court, and he was also the reason the journey towards the Red Keep from Winterfell had gone so agonizingly slow: every lord and lady in her retinue asked her a thousand and one questions about the crown prince. She was the best to answer them - she knew him personally, she was friends with the prince and had even been married at one point to him!  It seemed that Lord Tyrion Lannister wasn’t really Tyrion Lannister, but Prince Tyrion Aemos Targaryen of house Lannister, son of Aerys II and Lady Joanna Lannister… That had been a huge shock, but not totally unexpected seeing as he had rode Viserion from Dragonstone to Winterfell during the long night. That had impacted her greatly, but when she confronted him about not telling her that he was a Targaryen when they had been married, he laughed hysterically before telling her that he himself hadn’t had a clue: except for all the hatred and contempt from Tywin Lannister. She needed people to stop asking her questions, she didn’t know why, but every question or show of interest in her once husband felt like a dagger in her chest and it was awful.

“Finally alone..” She signed in relief once she had escaped toward a balcony that would lead her to the gardens.

“Afraid you’re wrong, My Lady, but I can find another place to hide if my company is so very inopportune to you.” Said a deep voice coming from the shadows, a voice she recognized very well that caused her to turn around and reach for the owner. Soon the man that haunted her thoughts stepped into the light and as his eyes were caught in the right light she wondered why no one had ever suspected anything: one eye the color of wildfire and another a deep purple that without the right light could be mistaken for black.

“Your Royal Highness, please, I’d be honored to share your company.” She answered as she curtsied, not seeing the grimace that covered his face.

 As she looked back up she saw the light play across his face and had to agree with the words Margaery said in what felt a lifetime ago, he was handsome; maybe not in the classical way as his brother Jamie or in the ethereal way of his sister Queen Daenerys, but in his own way he looked both Lannister and Targaryen and yet he also looked like himself with his uniquely colored hair that was neither golden blond nor Valyrian Silver but a mix that somehow had strands of black in between and his mismatched eyes and his scar that gave him a roguish look. She felt her face heat up at her thoughts.

“Please, Lady Sansa, don't you mock my height too.” He said with a small smile on his lips hoping that his joke would ease some of the tension in her shoulders. He loved his sister Daenerys, he really did and he was happy with his legitimization, but right now he could do without: his days were filled with sycophants trying to curry his favor with your Royal Highness this or that and Prince this or that… It was worse than getting called all kinds of names behind his back and to his face.

“I apologize if my behavior upset you, my Prince.” Answered Sansa honestly while she wondered how many people used the protocol salute as a mockery to his height: hadn’t he already done enough for them? What right did they have to mock him for something that is so far out of his control?

“Please, my Lady: don’t call me my Prince. Not tonight, not you… aren’t we friends?” He asked Sansa, taking one of her hands in his.

“If I’m not allowed to call you my Prince, how shall I refer to you then - my friend?” She asked him with a small smile and it felt like his chest might explode.

“Tyrion, call me by the name given to me by my mother.” He almost begged her, he would have gone on his knees to hear him called his true name by another that wasn’t his good brother Jon and he would add some graveling for it to fall from her lips.

“I shall call you that Sir, but with one condition.” She said in a teasing tone.

“Anything.” He answered without a thought, she could ask him anything and he’ll give it to her gladly.

“Well, two actually.” She proposed and he just nodded. “ First of all I shall be Sansa for this night and you will take me somewhere far from this celebration.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal My … Sansa.” He finished correcting himself. “Please follow me to my new favorite place.” He said, offering his arm.

She smiled before accepting his arm, softly placing one of her hands on his upper arm. He gave her a conspiratorial smile as he led her towards some unknown place in the gardens far from the music and the sound of the celebrations.

They passed some lighted areas once in a while, but it was mostly just them under a starry sky and the moonlight enjoying each others silent company with only the sky and the gods as witnesses to whatever they might say to one another; at some point they reached a clearing where they found Grey Worm awaiting them in his new armor marking him as a kingsguard.

“It seems we have been discovered, Sansa.” Said Tyrion with a huff.

“No, the queen told this one to look over the Prince. She never told this one to tell her if the Prince left, only said ‘make sure the Prince kept good company.” Declared the man with a conspiratorial smile.

“So we are allowed to just be here away from the celebrations alone?” Asked Tyrion hopefully while Sansa watched the interaction silently with a healthy respect and no small amount of fear seeing a kingsguard and being in the company of a crown prince, even if she knew that this was Tyrion not Joffrey, as for Grey Worm, well, she wasn’t sure about him but trusting Tyrion hadn’t steered her wrong yet.

“This one doesn’t know. This one only knows that no harm shall come to the Prince and also believes that Lady Sansa fits good company.” Grey Worm answered Tyrion before leaving the clearing, hiding somewhere close so that he could act if Tyrion needed him.

“Tyrion, did this just happen?” Asked a perplexed Sansa.

“I believe so, sweet girl. Don’t worry, we are where I wanted to take you.” Tyrion answered before he let go of her arm while he walked a couple of steps away and took what looked like a wooden lute from somewhere between his clothes before playing a short tune on it.

“Tyrion?” Sansa asked, confused.

“Give him a moment, Sansa dear.” Was all he answered and before she could question what he meant, Viserion appeared and landed smoothly. “Hello boy, are you having a good time?” Tyrion asked the massive beast while he stroked it as if it were a kitten. The sound it made even reminded Sansa of a kitten purring. “Can you do me a favor, boy? See that Lady there? That’s Sansa, you’ve met her before, even if you don’t remember, it was pretty chaotic at the time. The thing is, we want to spend some time without loud noises and people. Do you think we might snuggle up to you to keep warm?”

When Sansa heard Tyrion ask the dragon if it would be good if they were to snuggle up against it, she wondered if he had gone mad. There was no way in the seven hells that she’d snuggle up against a dragon! There was just no way, until:

“Come Sansa, what are you waiting for, Viserion gave his consent.” Said Tyrion as he walked up to her, grabbing her hand gently.

“For us to snuggle up to him?” She asked him, looking at him as if he had grown an extra head or two.

“Don’t worry, he likes snuggling up.” Assured Tyrion as they both sat down and yes, as he had said, Viserion moved himself almost curling around them, and due to this they both ended up snuggled against the dragon. Of course Tyrion would bond with the one dragon in the history of the world that likes snuggling! “I’ve heard from a bird that Arya and a centrain Storm Lord shall be marrying soon, tell me how did that happen?” He asked, relaxed against the beast while he looked at the stars.

“I can’t say that I’m completely sure, the only thing I’m certain of is that Lord probably did beg a lot and got rejected many times.” Answered Sansa giggling as she too started to relax against the massive creature. It was warm and even with its hard scales she somehow felt comfortable.

“And tell me, how is the North?” He asked while he started climbing his dragon as if it were a tree not that Viserion seemed to mind and if he did would she know?

“What are you doing?” She asked him wondering why he would climb Viserion while they spoke.

“I’m getting some good dornish wine from Viserion’s stash: we’ll need it.” Explained Tyrion with a smile in his voice and the dragon made some grumbling noises. “Don’t worry boy, she knows I’m joking about who the stash belongs to. After all it's me that drinks and knows things!”

“Won’t the wine be too warm? And how come you stash wine in his saddle?” Sansa asked, feeling bewildered.

“I designed his saddle and I stash much more than just wine with him… and don’t worry I’ve learned how to stash the wine! There were some failed experiments not worth telling you about. Now tell me about the North while I find my way back to the floor.” He said as he started making his way down, she just accepted it and started telling him about the North.

“Getting more populated by the day: many wildlings are deciding that this side of the wall is the place to be.” Sansa mumbled as she accepted the wineskin offered to her.

“They aren’t giving you much trouble, are they?” He asked her while she took a sip and had to hide a grimace. She took a big sip and this wine was stronger than what she usually drank.

“No, they aren’t… of course there are some things where we differ, but in the end we all are Northerners…. and who am I kidding: why didn't anyone tell me that being the head of the ruling house was so difficult? I have to clean the mess made by the vassals and fix their petty disputes: and let me tell you they are petty!” She complained for the first time since she became the Lady of Winterfell causing him to laugh and almost choke on his wine.

“If you had been more attentive to my ramblings during our short marriage you would have known that you would be surrounded by fools that would make a mess for you to clean up.” He answered her, understanding her plight. “But you at least have Bran to help you?” He tried to cheer her up.

“Don’t get me started on Bran.” Mumbled Sansa wondering what kind of mess would await her once she returned from Kings Landing.

“Hey! I like Bran!” Exclaimed Tyrion in mock offense after which he gave her a smile.

“I’m not even going to start that conversation so…  Tell me about how you realized who you were? And how is life as the crown Prince?” She asked her friend. Sure, in the ravens he sent her he would sometimes tell her some of the things he did, but it always felt as if there was more.

“Well you know that after the disaster where I was accused of regicide, which I didn’t do - if it were me, he wouldn’t have gotten to be a king - I had this wonderful trip to Essos, I saw all the places to visit and then I came across Daenerys’s dragons chained to the walls in some enclosed place: let me tell you those are terrible living conditions for dragons, but anyway they didn’t eat me as a snack, instead they adopted me and brought me to their mother. That’s when I saw Varys, and as everyone present was trying to comprehend the dragons’ possessive and protective behavior around me, the cunt told something that I felt I really had the right to know sooner: Aerys II had lusted after my mother for years and when there started to be rumors of a possible assault, she left court never to be seen again! Eight months later yours truly was born: so I got trial by fire from Dany before she decided that, yeah, I was her brother, so she adopted me then and there. I even got Viserion out of all that shit.” Sansa sensed that she was given a heavily edited version of the events, but decided to not push for more details, the rumors said that he spend sometime in Essos as a slave. 

“And my life as a crown prince sucks: I’d rather be a Hand, even if I still have a seat on the small council it’s not like I can do much because Jon and Dany prefer me not interfering with it too much and I’m only allowed to help once everything is about to go up in flames.” Grumbled the Prince with a cute pout not that anyone would even know. “Aside from basically running the West, my job is to stand still and look pretty while everyone and their grandmother tries to seduce me to get the crown on my head or my money or both…” Tyrion signed dramatically even if Sansa felt that he really felt that way, if only he knew. “You know my life would be much easier if only your brother took a mistress to sire him a bastard!” At this Sansa laughed knowing that it was the truth. 

“No really, for the Westerlands I can appoint my cousin Joy as the heir and strong arm her future husband into taking the Lannister name and in becoming Lord consort!” He exclaimed in indignation at her laughs.

“How did that even happen?” She asked once she could breathe again.

“How did what happen?” Tyrion asked, confused.

“You as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands?” She asked, wondering about that: Jamie was still alive so how?

“Didn’t I tell you about that?”

“I don’t think so, you only wrote, and I shall quote, a cunt of a golden lion dumping everything  on me calling it a show of support and love before running to the other side of the continent. And that is all you ever wrote about that.” She told him.

“Well that is exactly what happened! That was Jamie’s way of showing support and telling me he loved me and of course we are still brothers! And it was not as if there was anyone still alive that would have a claim before me at it, with the exception of him, of course. He just dumped the West on me before heading to Tarth to marry Brienne, he didn’t even think about Joy or anything.” The Prince explained in a suffering voice.

“Wow, that was a dirty trick he pulled on you.” Sansa conceded.

“Thank you!”

“No, thank you for sharing all that with me.” Replied the redhead yawning.

“Sansa?”

“Hmmm?”

“I know this may be foolish, as you already rejected me once, but marry me?”

“What!?”

“I know I’m a fool, but share the rest of your life with me please?”

“You know what, yes, I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.” She said with a smile before planting a chaste kiss on his lips to silence him.

I put Chapter 1 because I don't know if I ever might try to continue it.