#wmmap ideas

[hwang-lucas]

Random thought after work:

Digimon AU! WMMAP.

Crest of Courage bearer Cabel Ernst.

Crest of Knowledge bearer Lucas.

Crest of Love bearer Athanasia de Alger Obelia.

Crest of Sincerity bearer Jennette Magrita.

Etc.

[shxrry-blossom]

ALL THE PARTS OF THE NOVEL

Hi! Here are all the parts (with their respective chapters) of the novel according to Tapas. At the moment there are only 10 parts, so as the story progresses this post will be updated with the following parts.

PART 1 - Who Made Me a Princess . . . (Chapter 1)

PART 2 - Not All Princesses Live Happily Ever After . . . (Chapter 9)

PART 2.5 - Claude, The Father . . . (Chapter 14)

PART 3 - Who Are You? . . . (Chapter 14)

PART 4 - Even Cats Have Nine Lives. Why Do I Only Have One? . . . (Chapter 29)

PART 5 - The Male Lead of a Romance Novel Is Exceptional Indeed . . . (Chapter 34)

PART 6 - An Eventful Débutante Ball . . . (Chapter 43)

PART 6.5 - Differing Circumstances . . . (Chapter 60)

PART 7 - Is This, By Chance, A Green Light? . . . (Chapter 62)

PART 7.5 - Don't Mess With Lucas, The Lone Black Wolf . . . (chapter 70)

PART 8 - Breaking! The Magician of the Black Tower Has Appeared! . . . (Chapter 71)

PART 9 - Goodbye For Now . . . (Chapter 77)

PART 10 - Nightmare . . . (Chapter 80)

PART 10.5 - After The Party . . . (Chapter 90)

PART 11 - Bye, Dad . . . (Chapter 91)

PART 11.5 - That Father, Claude . . . (Chapter 92)

PART 12 - I Think I've Met The Novel's Second Male Lead . . . (Chapter 96)

PART 12.5 - Sleepless Nights . . . (Chapter 106)

PART 13 - Return . . . (Chapter 108)

LAST UPDATED —➤ [03/01/25]

[ultramarine-spirit]

This Alice in Wonderland standee set is so pretty...

[dyinggirldied]

What if the little girl Lee Jihye (or Athy's Korean past self) saw in passing was Jennette's reincarnation?

I mean, she has the same hairstyle, her hair color is same shade of brown and look at that little smile

[industria-adastra]

[WMMAP] - Magnum Opus: It's sad to be at the bottom of life, right? (4/5)

Prev - Next

Summary: It's amazing, really, how quickly love can turn to hate. Or maybe, it hadn't been love after all.

Note: Recently, I've gotten into Hazbin Hotel again. I ended up adding more stuff to the latter half of the original chapter 3 that I cut. I hope you like it, intended audience of maybe two people.

-------

There is a man who is always present in these events. A man who always hangs about on the fringes of the ever-increasingly elaborate parties in Jennette’s name, observing within the shadows. Athanasia finds him to look disturbingly similar to her father, even if she brushes off their similarities time and time again. And like her father, as she discovers in an accidental bump, he reeks of the magic that the Obelian royal family seems inexplicably chained to. 

She goes searching within the records, and already, his face appears only a generation away. Yet, Anastacius de Alger Obelia had been long dead, hadn’t he? But Athanasia has long learned to not believe in coincidence. Something strange is afoot. Will he become a test of what she’d do for her family?

At another ball, another celebration for Jennette, his dark gaze turns to her, and his eyes flash jewel blue, and, oh,  Athanasia understands now.

(She’s never tried spilling blood with her own hands)

Stiffening as he leisurely walks over, Athanasia’s mind rushes through potential actions she could take. On one hand, she could alert everyone within the vicinity, especially Lord Robaine, about her uncle truly living up to his name. On the other hand, remembering the bitter twist of his lips, staring at Father and her sister, Athanasia stalls.

(Perhaps it is a good idea, with the pressure of twisted magic she hadn’t truly noticed the strength of before. Something's wrong.)

Her vision blurs, watching him steadily walk over, the light clicks of his shoes like a war drum against her ears. His clothes don't seem to fit, a strange, ever-changing amalgamation of fluttering robes and crisp formal wear. His hair is neat and carefully tousled, and his hair is shaggy and unkempt.

(There is something deeply wrong about this man)

“It’s annoying, isn’t it, not being the golden child everyone loves?” It’s as if two people are asking this of her, with a strange mix of amusement, cold pity and understanding within his (their?) eyes. 

(Something about him is wrong, wrong, wrong)

Athanasia opts not to reply, shifting her gaze elsewhere. It’s a question loaded with enough weight to topple an empire. She’s quite sure that what that man means by ‘annoying’ is not as light as it sounds.

“I see,” his eyes move to catch her gaze. 

Before he moves to turn away, they give some last few parting words that render Athanasia stock stiff in her heels.

“I can’t wait to see what happens when you break alongside your ghoul of a mother, my dearest niece.” 

"Dearest descendant of mine."

The phrases overlap together, and before she can even blink, before she can let go of a tense breath, a body moves into her field of vision, blocking her view. Athanasia stumbles forward, hand outstretched to politely shift it away. But when it moves, they are already gone.

(It's as if they've vanished into thin air)

After that fateful encounter, Athanasia never sees him appear at another ball ever again. 

She wonders if she should have ever told her father about this meeting.

Then again, with his constant state of apathy and ennui during their regularly scheduled tea times with Jennette concerning anything relating to her, Athanasia wonders if it’ll simply pass through his ears like white noise.

-

Ever since the first one, the tea parties Jennette tries to host for the three of them are always painfully awkward. This one is no exception. Athanasia is eighteen now, and all that’s changed is Jennette’s choice of tea and snacks—this year is chamomile and imported sweets from Siodonna.

The overpowering taste of sugar accompanies the taste of rose. Paired with the chamomile, it verges on being too sweet. 

Without a need to contribute to the current conversation (consisting of Jennette rambling and her father barely even looking like he’s paying attention—he looks perpetually drowsy these days), Athanasia finds her attention turning to Bluey’s recovery. He keeps shedding feathers all over the place, and sometimes his muscles lock together involuntarily. Sustaining a life is harder than keeping it in stasis. She can’t push too much magic in, and neither can she give too little. Yet, there is no predefined value to sustain—there’s an unknown sequence yet to be found. She needs to find it soon.

“Just yesterday, I went to see Ijekiel—”

Clank. Athanasia’s teacup strikes its saucer perhaps a bit too harshly, rudely cutting off Jennette’s words. Because of that, she offers an awkward, sheepish smile to her audience of two. 

“My apologies for that, but I’ve suddenly realised that I have some rather urgent matters to resolve back in the Ruby Palace.” As she speaks, Athanasia moves out of her seat, ready to leave. “Please, have a wonderful rest of the day.”

(It isn’t as if they’d notice her anyway)

 “O-oh! Of course, we will! Right, Father?” At that, Claude only stares at her silently, yet all Athanasia can see from his eyes is apathy—a passive gaze with nothing attached. “I hope it’s nothing too serious…”

By then, Athanasia had already started to walk away.

(She wonders why she thought they’d call after her)

-

It all happens in a flash. Jennette, chatting with her amiably about the latest fashions and Ijekiel’s latest romantic gesture. And to clear her throat, she takes a sip of tea. But as she opens her mouth to speak again, her blue eyes widen, her mouth forms an “o” in surprise, and Jennette coughs up crimson blood before she collapses to the ground. The sound of breaking porcelain resounds as it crashes onto the ground.

Not even a second passes by and Athanasia has already rushed towards her, heart pounding in her ears. How will she explain this to her father? How had she been so lax in her vigilance? How had she been so blind as not to notice poison? Why Jennette? Why her? Her mana rushes out in an attempt to heal Jennette but she can’t properly do so if she has no idea what has been affected. What had Jennette ingested within the tea? Athanasia’s hands shake in terror as she scoops Jennette into her arms. 

“HELP!” She screams, heavy breaths coming out as tears start to flow. “HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! ANYBODY! THE FIRST PRINCESS HAS BEEN POISONED!” Fearfully, Athanasia's eyes dart around, catching the eyes of a nearby maid, whose mouth is wide open in shock.

"What are you doing?! Go! Go get help now!" Athanasia so rarely ever raised her voice, but right now, she’d scream herself hoarse, scream herself mute if it’d save Jennette. 

Luckily for the maid, she quickly runs off toward the royal doctors. But now, there is nothing to do but wait, nothing to do but watch as the blood trickles down from Jennette’s mouth. Sweat is already building on her skin, and all Athanasia can do is hold her close and make sure Jennette doesn’t unconsciously choke on her blood. Jennettee’s eyes are still open, but Athanasia thinks that she cannot bear to close them, even for Jennette’s later comfort. As her heart continues to race, Athanasia finds that the only thing she can do is silently lament to her mother, and pray in her heart that all will be alright.

There is blood on her clothes. 

-

When Jennette is taken away to be treated, Athanasia finally collapses from the stress of it all. Yet when she wakes up, she sees neither the old, yet comforting walls of her room. What she sees are the grey stone walls; what she smells is the rotten stink of excretion and urine; what she hears is the rhythmic clanking of metal armour and the scurrying of rats. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that she’s in the dungeons—as unfamiliar as it should be.

There is still blood on her clothes. There is still blood on her hands. It’s brown and crusted and stinks of iron and Athanasia thinks she hears a woman weeping. Her gaze darts around, trying to see if her mother is here. If she was, Athanasia could get an explanation. If she was, Athanasia could have some comfort in this sudden new insanity.

But her mother is not here, and Athanasia is alone. There’s not much else to do but sit and wait.

And just a few moments later, her answers come in the form of three individuals. Duke Alpheus, Countess Rosalia, and last of all shadowed by the badly lit rooms but still standing out so strongly—the Emperor, her father. The three of them stare down upon her dirtied form with closed expressions (and what she can always recognise as barely hidden disdain). 

Athanasia decides to focus on her father. Not that it was hard to. 

“Your Majesty?” 

No reply. 

Athanasia tries again. “Is Jennette alright? Is she safe now?”

Instead of her father’s even monotone, it’s Countess Rosalia’s sharp, nearly squawking, shrieking vocals which answer her. “Jennette is safe from you, Your Highness.” She spits those words out venomously, almost triumphantly. 

It doesn’t take a one-in-a-million genius to understand what has happened.

Still, Athanasia tries to keep her calm, “What do you mean, Countess? You, of all people, should know that false accusations towards royalty are tantamount to treason.” Better to be blunt and be done with it.

This time, it is the Duke who speaks, looking down upon her between narrowed eyes, “Your Highness, there is no need for any more pretence. It has been found that you were the one who poisoned Jennette.” Prim and proper in his shiny white clothes and his always meticulously coiffed hair; in the depths of her heart, Athanasia couldn’t understand how a man like Ijekiel could be his son.

“And what evidence do you have to prove your claims?” Athanasia has learnt to smile like how Raven bares his teeth; sharp and quick, a warning to go no further. If there is anything else she’s learnt from Ijekiel’s friendship, it is that a smile grants both mystery and versatility. “Proper procedure states that I have the right to be subject to a fair trial, and a right to know upon what grounds you base such accusations on.”

She watches the countess artfully swing her fan up into a waiting hand, only to snap it open with a violent elegance. “Your Highness, there is no need for such tedious procedures when your guilt is crystal clear for everyone to see.”

Like a part of a two-headed snake, the Duke adds his venomous spit to the mix, “Out of jealousy, you dared to poison your own sister for your own shortcomings.”

“This is more fact than fiction—countless witnesses can prove to you that I had no idea what would happen to Jennette.”

“And countless witnesses can also prove that you’ve always harboured such envious hatred for your own sister. How wicked you are, to take away her fiancé—to take away my son—and now to take away her life.”

Still, Athanasia continues to stay calm. Her father would surely intervene at some point, wouldn’t he? “You must be mistaken, Ijekiel and I are merely friends. He is my future brother-in-law, and it would make no sense to alienate myself from him. And I care dearly for Jennette. I would do no such thing when it would only bring her pain.”

“But your actions speak louder than your words, Your Highness. Such pretty lies may come easily to you, given your blood, but we both know that you purposefully seduced him. Just like that crass, low-class whore you were born from.” The woman sneers, edging threateningly closer.

Athanasia snaps. She rushes to the bars, slamming into them with a strength and speed all too abnormal for a girl her size and age. Taking advantage of their foolish arrogance, she takes the opportunity to grab at their disgustingly extravagant clothes, bringing them eye to eye, and knocking their heads painfully on the steel bars. 

(They tell her to not let go, to keep moving, to keep shaking. Until they are but bloodied flesh and broken bones and as filthy as their tongues are. Better off as fodder, better off to be used for something grander than they could ever be.)

“Keep my mother out of your mouth! How can you be so sure that such a miscarriage of justice will—!”

“Be silent.” Finally, he speaks. His mana collapses onto her like that of a dying star, forcing her to let go, forcing her back onto the ground. But while it is painful, it is more bearable than the knowledge that her father simply did not care.

Ignoring the bodies quickly scrambling behind his protection, the Emperor simply comments, “Have you finished your petty tantrum?”

For the first time in her life, she gawks at him, at his apathy and unchanged expression. From the look on his face, Athanasia knows that he will never change his mind. He will never change his mind for her because he does not care. 

She’s known this for so long, and yet, and yet it still hurts.

And just like that, her verdict—her guilt—is decided just like that. She has blood on her hands because it is the word of the Emperor—Sun of the Empire, a ruler before he is her father (as it should; as it shouldn’t be so). Athanasia bites down harshly on her lips, casting her gaze on the stone floors, and nary a sound is allowed to escape. She wants to rage, wants to scream, wants to reach beyond the steel bars and tear at the cloth near her father’s feet—to beg for an explanation, to defend herself, to harshly refute her claims.

Who had she loved dearly all this time? Who had she worked for to the bone to gain just the slightest bit of approval and notice? Who had she idolised as perfection even as it was so clear that he was nothing but a statue carved out of ice? Her father—

(The child will die. He will kill her, like he slaughtered them, watching them breathe their last. She is her child my child our only child. She must live.)

Her mother’s cold hands tether her to reality, and Athanasia does none of that. 

“Breathe,” Diana says, right on time, pressing atop her, enclosing Athanasia within her arms. “Not in front of the Duke and the Countess, Dear. Later, when it’s safer, Mama will be here. You know Mama will always be here for you.”

Right.

She has always had her mother. Always had Lily and Raven. And now she has Jennette and Ijekiel.

It is enough. (It must be; She wants a father.)

Athanasia forces herself to hold it in, to stare straight into her father’s eyes and say, “Your Majesty is as efficient as always. Will there be a further investigation into this incident? After all, Your Majesty, efficiency without accuracy is just another way to describe sloppy work.” She smiles, ignoring the subtle shock and outrage—the lovely confusion—on the Duke and Countess.

“...You are the primary suspect. It will be enough to make an example of you.” Always putting in the most minimal of effort when it came to her. 

“I see. Then may I know if you have settled on a date for the execution?” Even now, she couldn’t let herself look any less insanely perfect in front of him. Even now, she still loves him—but perhaps no longer like that of a follower and their god. After all, gods cannot be flawed.

Unreadable as always, her father so graciously lets her know when she’ll die by his hand. “The dawn of the 8th day.” Cold, clipped—he doesn’t even seem to register that it’ll be her birthday. By the sun, moon, and stars—what a joke. This is the most attention he’s ever truly given to her.

After that, he’s already turning his back on her, moving towards the exit. The Duke and the Countess cast her cold, calculating looks before they scurry after him (like the rats they were).

When they finally leave, out of sight, out of mind, Athanasia finally allows herself to collapse into her mother’s ready arms. She shakes, she sobs, and she cries—but Athanasia still does not let a single sound escape. How unfair it is, to mourn something she never had from the start.

There is blood on her hands, but it is because of someone else.

(Athanasia doesn’t want to die.

“You won’t,” her mother promises with a whisper. “We’ll make sure of it.”)

-

“How far will you go for Diana’s—my child?”

“Anything for Athanasia,” the nanny’s sea blue eyes look straight ahead, resolute. 

“Even your life?”

“If it must be so.”

-

On the second day of her imprisonment, Raven brings him a thick, tattered book. It is hard to hide large secrets, but having grown up as an Alpheus, hiding them is but second nature to him. 

Drunk off his victory, his father grows sloppy—perhaps even mad, judging from the strange one-man dialogue he occasionally hears coming from his office. (Before…everything, they had conversed about noise-cancelling magic before.) His father’s lack of care is a boon when Ijekiel knows his actions will tear into the tapestry of success his father had so carefully woven.

He remembers being told that to love is to wish for someone’s success and happiness—to do all you could to ensure their dreams would come true.

Ijekiel thinks that to love is also to do all you can to stop someone from going past that line in the sand, the precarious precipice of no return.

Then again, he muses on the seventh night, sorting through all the information about guard rotations, patrol routes, floor plans and the like—it’s not even the most damning action of his right now. Ijekiel raises a hand to press lightly against his sternum, feeling the heavy weight of the key, the rough texture of the iron, even though it’s buried underneath all the layers of his clothing.

A haunting birdsong trickles in the open window, and Ijekiel stops to turn and gaze at the moonlight.

He thinks that, perhaps, also, to love is to be willfully ignorant.

-

Ever since her verdict had been so kindly handed down to her by her father, Athanasia’s days are now spent in the dungeon, rather than in the comfort of the library or her room. There are no books to read, so she spends time talking to her mother, practising the spells stitched into her memories. However, without Raven, they’re weaker, barely sparks yet still clearly noticeable. Strangely, no guard ever seems to be able to perceive any such practice; eyes glazed over every time. Nor are there shackles on her limbs, binding her down like an animal. She won’t question it, instead preparing for a hypothetical scenario in which she’s free.

(Mother had promised her.)

She’s sure that the guards all think she’s mad from shock. They look at her with disgusted pity and gossip about her as if she can’t hear at all. But their loose tongues help her hold onto the outside world.

Jennette is in a coma. For all their talk of family, she surmises that the most precious child of both the Countess and the Duke is power. Her father spends most of his time working. Athanasia supposes that there’s much to do when you’re executing a direct member of the royal family. Morbidly, she wonders if the Black Tower magicians would want her body for their research. Lily is that “crazy palace maid” who begs to be heard every day (no news on how her father reacted to it—but such a case is one where Athanasia sincerely prays that her father’s apathy will outweigh any annoyance, that Lily’s noble family will take her out of harm’s way before the worst can come to pass). 

Raven and Bluey are both missing (something’s coming). And Ijekiel… Last she heard, he’d been the picture-perfect fiancé, periodically visiting Jennette like clockwork every day.

At the same time, Athanasia gets a single stem of flowers each day. She wonders if Duke Alpheus knows about them.

Goldenrod, purple heliotrope, blue verbena, pink gladiolus, blue periwinkle, an iris suspiciously dusted with fur and downy feathers.

When will it be the hour of their flight?

“Wait and see, it’ll be like a fairytale,” her mother says, dancing all the while. “In the meantime, show me how you weave your magic again, Athy.”

-

It is cold within the dungeons. Athanasia will surely die tomorrow if nothing short of a miracle occurs. And yet, there is no worry in either her heart or her soul. Her mother had promised her, and to love, for Athanasia, was to devote and believe—to have utmost faith.

(She wonders what her father’s idea of love is—indulgence? A passive acceptance not too far from apathy? At least she knows that her mother’s love is undying, from beyond the grave. Lily’s love is steadfast and loyal, always trying to make the best of things. Ijekiel’s is inherent in every action, every move. Jennette’s is puppy-like, endearing.)

Athanasia hums as she finishes the final touches on her flowery bracelet, sliding it over her wrist with a sense of pride. The flowers are ill-suited to be bound this way, but such perversions of reality and logic are what magic is for. From behind, her mother gently combs out the knots in her hair with deft fingers, plaiting and pinning until all of Athanasia’s golden hair is safely pinned up.

“The midnight hour comes soon, Dear—Eumiellia’s always said that it’s the perfect hour for some…mischief.” Her mother says in a sing-song tone, drawing her up on her feet and guiding her to watch the way the light on the dungeon corridors starts to change and grow. In the depths of the Empire’s bowels, the echo of the nearing footsteps rings louder and louder in her mind.

Someone is coming.

“Is it time to go now?” Athanasia asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I already said it’s the perfect hour, Athy.” So they wait. It doesn’t take long for Athanasia to realise that alongside the light footsteps, another pair of feet pad forth as well. Excitement bubbles in her chest—she’s heard those footsteps before.

Athanasia sees Bluey first, the stitched bluebird squeezing between the bars to nuzzle into her awaiting hands, before leaping into flight once more.

Raven is next, her book grasped firmly in her mouth. Already, Athanasia can feel the electric rush of mana, from a steady trickle to rushing rapids. Were it not for the anti-teleportation wards, she probably could be free already. 

“I hope you don’t mind the lack of white horses, Your Highness.”

All of a sudden, she feels lightheaded, warm. “Ijekiel?” She breathes out, staring disbelievingly at his hooded figure, the glint of his golden eyes. He smiles back at her, taking out a key from underneath his collar. 

“The one and only, Athanasia.” Her door unlocks, and he reaches out to tug her forward into a tight hug, holding her so tightly and so closely that Athanasia can feel the skin of his neck, and smell the scent of his skin. “Did you like my message? I learnt it from the book about Obelia’s flower language we read together every February.”

“I didn’t expect—”

“That I’d be doing this in person? I don’t trust anyone else with your safety. After all, you’re my…friend.”

Athanasia finally hugs back, squeezing her arms around Ijekiel tightly. Her eyes squeeze shut with unshed tears. “I’m glad you’re my friend too. But what I meant was that I didn’t expect you to mean you were going to conduct a jailbreak.”

“Well, a nobleman should always have many skills.”

“Jennette is lucky to have you.” She feels Ijekiel tense momentarily in her arms, The break in conversation appears to drag on, long and uncomfortable, before she hears him let out a sigh.

“She’s lucky to have you as well,” he says in return, before seemingly tacking on as an afterthought, “as a sister.” At those words, he releases her from his grasp, pulling away, only to come close once more to wrap a dark cloak around her shoulders. His hands rest on her shoulders, and Athanasia isn’t sure if he realises how tightly he’s gripping her.

“We should get going now. The guards won’t stay out for long.”

“Are you coming with me?” They both know it’s a stupid question; both know what the answer will be; both know that she will never truly mean it. 

Ijekiel doesn’t reply, but his wistful gaze is enough. 

Athanasia smiles, and it is small, almost sad, as she makes a request of him, “Take care of her for me, and for her own sake, alright?” Gripping the front of the cloak, she looks off into the dark distance, the unknown of her impending freedom. “Politics was never her strong suit.”

“Of course, as Her Highness asks.” Ijekiel chokes out the words, and he lets go of her shoulders, turning away and towards the dungeon’s exit. “I’ll escort you to that place—as long as you can get out of here, you’ll be able to leave the palace, right?”

“Yes.”

And so out they go, past the numerous cells and past the unconscious guards, from the darkness, to the moonlight. The night air tastes of freedom; walking on the stone paths, past the patrolling guards, feels like a kind of liberation. Her magic wraps around them like a shield as they make their way to the place where they’d both realised they’d fallen in love with the sun. 

As they stand below the tree, Athanasia finds herself reluctant to truly say goodbye to him. 

So she doesn’t.

“Tell Lily I said goodbye, please?” The magic swirls around her feet, building, building to a crescendo, changing the colour of her hair, the colour of her eyes—held high in the air by a single thread of hesitation. 

Ijekiel cannot tear his eyes away from her. It’s only through sheer strength of will that he holds back from reaching out once more. “If it’s you, there’s no need to ask.” 

Athanasia smiles, bright and true, and she turns away. “I’m glad I met you, Ijekiel.” Her magic swallows her up, leaving not a trace, not even a spark.

It’s as if she were never there in the first place.

He speaks to the empty air, hand outstretched. “I’m glad I met you too, Athy.”

-

Athanasia jumps from inn to inn, hiding in plain sight, making sure to cycle through a number of features wherever she goes, obfuscating the Imperial guards’ search for her. Above all, she likes it best when her eyes are either pink or blue; when her hair is blonde or brown. Through it all, her heart crashes about in her chest, thrashing about in her ribcage even as she refuses to think about how she’s being hunted down like a criminal by her own father. Money (golden and shining and reliable in a way her father never truly was) is never tight due to her magic. Still, Athanasia is starved of genuine interaction with anyone but her mother. Yet it’s all too risky even to fathom making an acquaintance when she knows they’ll all bind her in chains if they ever know who she is.

Her mother helps as best as she can, whispering in her ear about the innkeeper was starting to become suspicious, or what rumours were being circulated here and there—helping her avoid areas where people are most keen to turn in the abominable villainess who’d harmed their beloved Princess (never her, never Athanasia, it was always, always Jennette who’d be so loved and accepted by all). Athanasia is oh-so careful, living as if she were dead, waiting, waiting, waiting as she always did.

Until she sees the body strung from a rope in the town square.

Horrifically injured, it is covered in a damaged maid’s dress, and matted brown hair covers its eyes. But Athanasia recognises the bend of those limp hands, the careful embroidery lining the apron and the skirt, the unseen tie so horribly torn and broken like her heart. Her breath feels uneven, all too loud for her ears in an environment that seems to press down on her. Mother’s ghostly arms pull at her as gently firm as can be, but Athanasia cannot bring herself to move. There is a scream stuck in her throat, and it claws with an animalistic ferocity to be let out. 

Faintly, she thinks that Ijekiel would’ve labelled this as the protagonist’s tipping point.

-

Lily is dead.

Mama confirms it too, with all the coldness and stiffness of flash-frozen water, the absence of spirit, her soul.

Not even days after she’s started running away, does she see the still corpse swaying in the air in front of her eyes. It’s already started the process of decay, the white pallor that marks her as gone having already overtaken her skin. Not to mention the unmistakable hole in her chest, the browning stains of blood on her always impeccably clean uniform, the doll-like stiffness of her body, and Lily cannot be dead because her Father hates her so but he is not a madman bereft of morals (as long as it does not involve her) he is a cold but stiff, still just ruler (as long as it does not involve her) because because because—

It had been fine as long as it was only her who bore the weight of such cruel apathy. 

Claude de Alger Obelia, emperor of Obelia, tyrant of Obelia has, had, killed Lily.

Her mama lays her hands upon her shoulders, ice-cold and sub-zero degrees burning Athanasia’s skin like a hot iron brand. Memories gleaned rush into her mind 

And he would pay.

He would pay for it. He had to pay for it. There were consequences to every action, everything you took from the world. Whether it was forcing the creation of your imagination into life, speeding up natural processes of growth, or ripping away a life unfinished. There was always, always, a price to pay. Equivalent exchange. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A life for a life.

And Athanasia would become his debt dealer. His Thanatos, pounding, clawing at his door. 

She could fix this. Athanasia was a fool and a horribly, terribly blind idiot with a brain rotted with desire but she could fix this because if her Mama could come back to her so could Lily, and then she could apologise for being such a stupid stupid child. Everything would be back to normal. Back to the imperfect (no, they were perfect and unblemished) days of simply lazing around as a true family.

Lily wasn’t gone yet.

And Athanasia would make sure that she stayed, for good. Forever.

All she needs to do is prepare the stage, erase a few eyesores and tidy up this mess.

(The light of the torches cast long shadows as she took one step and another forward)

For that, her first order of business is to take back Lily’s body.

-

Early morning comes with the herald of the confusion of the masses.

(Poor, ignorant souls who have yet to realise what will be wrought upon their world)

The body of the example, the unremarkable maid of an unloved princess no longer hung from the noose. Only a snapped rope, roughly cut off from the rest of it, lay hanging from the wood.

Someone had taken the body, but who? Who would dare defy the order of the Sun of Obelia, Emperor Claude de Alger Obelia?

And within the shadows, a girl began crafting. Smoothing over blemishes, re-building foundations, and making once wrongs become rights. She fixes and repairs and improves because it is all for Lily’s sake. Lily must not come back in pain. She must come back to a body that knows no pain and will never know pain ever again.

But because it must be perfect (it must be, it had to be because she had to make up for it somehow and she knows it’s not enough but—), because she will accept no flaw, Athanasia needs practice. More practice than little animals and plants in various states of decay. Better practice than that. She needs people. 

(People who will surely, surely join her, who will always live up to her expectations. Because they will be reborn and reshaped to fit them.)

Athanasia always works hard for those she loves. Will always work hard for them and those she has yet to love. Because she is a starving child, and she will devour everything even if she’s full. So in return, she’ll do anything.

She gently thumbs the closed eyelids of a most remarkable maid, knowing that beyond them are dull blue eyes. It isn’t right for them to be such a colour. Her hand goes to her face to trace soft lines just below her jewel-blue eyes. That colour is a physical connection of “family”, an invisible thread tying them together. 

He didn’t deserve to have such a colour. Its beauty—wasted on him.

It’s a colour that Lily deserves so much more than him.

And Athanasia knows she can fix it. 

She has to.

[sharper-than-a-serpents-tooth]

the calamity of Obelia lily white Jennette with angelic blonde hair and a smile beaming like the sun vs savior of the nation dark skinned Athy with wild raven black hair and a gloomy disposition

[lucasdeocampo]

I like to think that when aethernitas reincarnated, Lucas greeted him first, just like what lucas promised him in the past. Aethy worked to be accepted as a court mage in the palace, and Lucas knew it was him when he saw the application. I like to think that both of them became friends after Lucas decided to take aethy under his wings and taught him things (which aethy regretted cuz lucas sucks at teaching lol but he survived). When athy found out that aethy is back, she was a bit suspicious at first but lets it go when he saw lucas having fun. So then athy and aethy became friends too

[myearts-uwu]

So… I plan on making themed acrylic charms of the WMMAP men (excluding Lucas and Kiel) as well as a random charm design of Myra (maybe make it Myrana) for my own self-indulgent needs once I’m free from current assignments so…

Any ideas of what theme I should follow?

Just wanna say that even if there is a majority vote, there’s a possibility that I might not do it since these are merely just vague ideas I have! However, feel free to offer some ideas or if you like to expand more on the listed themes!

[bvnga-aprikot]

OKAY OKAY i’ve started reading the hunger games and i cannot for the life of me get the thought of a WMMAP hunger games au out of my head, but with Lucas being Katniss and Athanasia having parallels to Peeta. I don’t know why but it just makes sense in my head? Both Athy and Peeta charmed their way into being seen in more favorable light for a better chance at survival, meanwhile though i think they are super different as characters i think Lucas being in a position similar to Katniss could also be interesting to explore. Not to mention the fact that Athy and Peeta are both blonde with blue eyes while Lucas and Katniss have darker hair which is seen as a sign of being from the impoverished part of District 12.

And it gets so much more depressing exploring the potential dynamic between these two, the thought of them finding love and support within each other in a world that seeks to tear people like them to shreds all because of the circumstances they were born in makes me remember some rare moments in the manhwa where i was touched by Athy and Lucas’s relationship…

[chaedomi]

𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 ✦ wmmap

fem!child!reader x athanasia + claude de alger obelia (platonic!yan), violence, death, suicide, unhealthy relationships; to them you were a jewel, precious and highly valuable. they, in turn, will express their strong emotions toward you, even if it means resorting to… more hostile methods. ꨄ — masterlist

IN THE novel, Lovely Princess, the story went like this. True to its title, the book contained Lovely Princesses. There was The First Princess, akin to the moon, who held a gloomy and foggy disposition. Then came The Second Princess, resembling the sun, bright and cheery. And finally, The Third Princess, similar to the stars, was reserved but gentle and a source of comfort.

You were… The First Princess’s younger half-sister. Although your mother was unknown (you were found inside a basket in the gardens crying) those jeweled eyes and your uncanny appearance close to The Emperor were solid proof that you were in fact of royal blood. It was… certainly strange to learn that the book entailed you as an 'unimportant' character. While The Second Princess was adored by the whole continent, the love the people harbored for you, The Third Princess, could put The Second Princess to shame. They treated you as though you were some supreme gift bestowed from the heavens, to be treasured and pampered. And among those who glorified you… was your father, The Cold-Hearted Emperor. You were like The Protagonist more than The Second Princess could ever be.

You were also… the best sister anyone could ask for to The First Princess. Because The First Princess was deprived of affection in her life, she mostly relied on you to fill the gaps in her heart. And you endearingly did so, trying your best to shine a light inside her darkness. It soon became that you both were inseparable, attached by the hip.

…So, obviously, you will spiral down into despair over The First Princess's death. You knew The First Princess was innocent of The Second Princess's poisoning. She was simply too sweet to commit a vile act, especially when she too took a liking to The Second Princess. But, alas, your reasoning went through one ear and out the other, and without proper evidence, your father executed The First Princess.

However, just as The Emperor's wrath was not to be underestimated, so was the extent of your grief as you promptly took away your life hours after The First Princess's execution. And that was the sad ending of your story, The Third Princess.

HOW WAS THAT ANY FAIR??? The confusion of the roles and the cheesy plotline were already bad enough on their own, but your unnecessary death pretty much destroyed the chances of her leaving a positive review. Was it done to reestablish the fact you were an unimportant character, or to remind everyone that The Second Princess is the original best girl in the story…? No amount of copious explanations can ever make ATHANASIA understand the validation for your death.

What she can come to understand however is that you, out of all people, did NOT deserve to die. You had all the rights to receive a happy ending just like The Second Princess… and that is what she aspired to make a reality as she was tossed into the fantasy world of the novel. It was obvious that it all went to hell when The First Princess was executed at the hands of The Emperor. So, in order to avoid your death, she will have to avoid hers first.

A genius plan, she dubbed it, stealing various riches from the Ruby Palace to live the rest of her life on as she escapes. She also thought of the brilliant idea of taking you along with her, after all, being inside the palace is kind of… the reason for your death, was it not!? Why not avoid the source altogether!? Or… that is what was supposed to happen before she accidentally stumbled across The Emperor four years early. Now, she will have to scrap that genius plan. Damn…

On a bright note, as time passed, using an alternative plan, Athanasia eventually evaded all chances of earning death at the hands of her father. This means that you too won’t have a pitiful ending as you originally did! Yay!

You truly didn’t deserve to die, and Athanasia will keep on saying it as much as needed. The years she spent beside you as your sister, further strengthened her motivation to keep you alive. She also understood why The First Princess had a strong attachment toward you. Innocent, Pure, Patient, Merciful, and Kind… who wouldn’t swoon over a person with such admirable traits? What struck her heart the way it did, was your affection. In her previous life, Athanasia… didn’t have people around her to provide her with love.

So, it surprised her a lot when it happened. Sure, she had love from her Nanny and the rest of the maids, but yours had her heart pumping, energy rushing through her veins. It was warm… a feeling she wanted to cling to for an eternity. Was it silly that she felt envious of a fictional character? To think that The First Princess was subjected to this kind of treatment from you… How did it feel to live her dream? Not that it matters anymore. Now, she can have you to all herself! You wouldn’t mind if she got a little… greedy, right? Of course, you won’t! After all, if you learned of her tremendous effort to keep you safe, why wouldn’t you reward her with more of your presence? What she does is in your favor. So, don’t get too upset if what she does seems a bit extreme, alright? It’s all for your benefit.

Betrayal can hurt. But, betrayal stings when it comes from the person you trusted and loved the most. You didn’t understand why it had upset her more than it upsetted you. More so, if she was so against the idea, why hadn’t she said so first? She was supportive about it too, choosing to help pick out a perfect disguise for your outing in the town. So why was it that on the day you were about to leave, lo and behold, there was your father by your doorway, inclusive of his knight… and your sister beside him, smiling triumphantly? Maybe if you had paid attention to how the shine left your sister’s eyes as you told her of your plan, you could have avoided such a dreadful punishment.

What bugged you the most was how Athanasia carried out her day normally, and acted sweetly to you, as if she didn’t partially contribute to the punishment of breaking your legs. Today was no different, as she sat on the chair beside your bed rambling on about her day. “You know, that’s the most I’ve seen Daddy upset.” She laughed, tracing her finger down your legs. “Usually, he would never dream of even hurting a strand of your hair. What you’ve done was really bad…”

She smiled at you, her jeweled eyes looking all the more terrifying under the dark lighting in your room. “I don’t understand. I should feel despaired seeing my sister in so much pain. Why does it bring me so much relief?” She sighed, holding one of your hands in hers. “...You scared me terribly with what you told me earlier. My mind couldn’t stop focusing on the many possibilities that would arise with you out there. Even worse, what if they learned of your true identity, and an enemy nearby attacks you?”

“I agreed with your plan, solely to avoid trouble. If I said no, you would have avoided me, right? I… don’t ever want to see you in danger, or place you in it, knowing I could have done something to prevent it. Not like anything like that will happen anytime soon!” She gently poked your injured legs. “I will help ensure that too.” You didn’t realize that the tears building in your eyes began to fall, your sister’s fingers quickly working to wipe them away.

In the novel, CLAUDE naturally favored you more than The First Princess. Upon your first encounter during the festival on The First Princess’s ninth birthday, with an outstretched hand, he escorted you back to the party, leaving your older sister in the dust. You lived a rather lavish life after that, him spoiling you with exquisite goods. So, it’s not like you had to form some extreme plan like Athanasia to protect yourself from the dangers that lurked inside the palace. Everyone here adored you…

Yet, not only did Athanasia’s interference with the plotline create many changes for her, but it also resulted in triggering unsettling events for you. Now that The Cold-Hearted Emperor has learned to display affection for the firstborn he originally detested, where would that place you, the daughter he always loved?

…His methods were very much frightening, even traumatizing, you may add. The numerous times you witnessed something gruesome to the eye, for the littlest offenses toward you. He would imprison, he would murder, he would execute, all in your name. His presence too, was very much suffocating, more than Athanasia, and that spoke volumes.

You hated how they both attached themselves to you, but, if you had to choose, you would pick Athanasia in a heartbeat. For the cold jeweled eyes that scrutinized every movement you made were too much for your poor heart to endure. It was as though he was waiting, waiting for your slip-up, to gain a perfect reason to permanently confine you behind the walls of your bedroom. And you fear… that the day you kissed your freedom goodbye was approaching quicker than you initially anticipated.

“What will it take for you to treat me as normally as the rest?” the (h.c) haired girl wept, clutching on tightly her father’s robes. “Shall I become like my sister, Athanasia? If I do… will I become like a free bird, and be granted more privileges?” grief-stricken jeweled eyes peered up at her father. “Will you finally release me from the shackles you trapped me in?”

“Do what you want,” her father smirked. but, as quickly as her hope came so was it shattered. the piercing concept. his voice in her ears was the cruelest of them all. “Such a thing won’t happen till the day I perish.” what a terrible vow. she knew he would do anything in his power to maintain his promise. and so, the deepest of despair like never before flooded her eyes. what have you done to receive this…?

you were very precious. nothing, not even the rarest pieces in the world could be compared to you; you were the highest value among them all. for all, it was a high requirement to treat you with the utmost importance and respect. yes, to them, to everyone, you were, the jewel of obelia.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[shxrry-blossom]

Athy in this kind of color 😊

[ultramarine-spirit]

...

[starboyjun]

batfam as types of isekai romance male leads

in this post: bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, cassandra cain, stephanie brown, and damian wayne

bruce wayne as rudiger winterwald (i will change the genre)

bruce is definitely the cold and "i make misunderstandings for a job" type of male lead. he's the one people in the comments bash or defend for their life. bruce in his past life is the one that the female lead thinks hates them so they die thinking that he won't care but plot twist: he does care... a lot. he's the one to destroy the entire world after their death (regis floyen core) and he's the one who turned back time for her.

dick grayson as isidor visconti (isn't being a wicked woman much better?)

dick grayson is the childhood lover, the one you don't think would be interested in you because of his bright personality. you think he's doing all these things out of pure kindness until after 100+ chapters he likes you. dick grayson is the one to stick by your side and in both lives, was devoted to you.

jason todd as izek van omerta (how to get my husband on my side)

jason todd is the one who unintentionally is cold to you (another idea is he's your killer in your first life) and probably causes your death... unintentionally... maybe. he's the slow burn type of romance where you fix past misunderstandings that have been building up for the past years you've known each other/been together. after a lot of years you've spent together, he's the greenest green flag you've ever met.

tim drake as schdermel raft (my dear aster)

tim drake is the male lead who takes a while to own the reader's hearts lowkey. timmy is a duke that rose to power in the female lead's previous life and is the one that could help her/protect her from her family/problems. timmy is such a sweetheart and i think it'll take a while before romance starts to come in the story (and has reader's asking novel readers who's the male lead).

cassandra cain as dorothea millanair (the tyrant wants to be good)

cassandra cain is the ultimate "i didn't want to be this, my surroundings made me be this." cassandra had a hard childhood because of her father and her "home" similar to many manhwa female leads. cassandra is the type to regret her past life and change for the better. she's not a brainless female lead, she knows a lot of things and will want to change (similar to dorothea).

stephanie brown as athanasia de alger obelia (wmmap)

stephanie is a female lead who is kinda stupid ("why did the plot change" type things) but overall is a strong female lead. she's one to go down in history (like athy). she's one who doesn't need a male lead to back her up and overall chases the plot to chang people's lives. steph is a happy girl and deserves a happy ending.

damian wayne as maximilian kasin ashet (father i dont want to get married)

damian is the one who (unintentionally/intentionally) killed you in your past life. damain grew up as a stuck up brat kid, though he is less of a brat, he's a trained killer for gods sake. damian is one who isn't familiar with love and being gentle. he probably grew up on the battlefield and is labelled "mad dog" or "cold blooded killer" or something along those lines. once you show damian you're not like the other girls afraid of him, he starts to fall... hard.

bonus: alfred pennyworth

the reliable butler of the family who's been serving the family for ages. he's the first one who trusts you and gets to know you on a personal level. he's always there to talk to the waynes and convince them you're a good person.

idk what to do next so lmk lol

[sharper-than-a-serpents-tooth]

Jennette is smart! There's the popular belief in certain wmmap circles that Jennette would make an incompetent ruler, because she is not smart, when there is no evidence in the manhwa that supports this idea. On the contrary the one time Jennette has to stand in for Ijekiel she actually finished her work ahead of time and got bored. Jennette's ability to keep up with Ijekiel's work says alot about her education and intellect. She may not be a child prodigy like Athy, but she is certainly not stupid either.

If she were to become a terrible ruler it would be because she is too trusting and lacks interest. It has nothing to do with her IQ. Roger himself describes her as a curious and intelligent child. She had troubles with Arlantan at first but to be fair the language is incredibly hard and the irregular i-verbs are famous for their difficulty. Even child prodigy Athy who had lived 2 lives and had been taught it before was so impressed by Ijekiel's language skills it left her speechless for a moment. Jennette mastering the beginners level of Arlantan in a few months/a year so that she could be taught advanced Arlantian at the age of 5-7 years is proof of that.

[alicehattera03]

I absolutely adore the way you write Athy as this Saint/goddess/holy figure in a lot of your WMMAP stories. She deserves all the love and devotion, and it just works really well for her character.

But it got me thinking about VADD and Penelope since (novel spoiler!):

She’s descended from the Ancient Mages that helped found the Empire with the Golden Dragon (Callisto’s ancestor). Now I’m wondering if the Ancient Mages were ever regarded as holy figures before Laila cursed them to be exiled and persecuted. Penelope being regarded as a literal saint because of her lineage would be a really interesting idea to write, especially with most of the nobility hating and reviling her because she’s a commoner only to do a 180 and worship her. Could you perhaps write some headcanons or a drabble for this? Or even a moodboard because with Penelope’s love of fashion she would absolutely look the part. Please? Have a good day!

Penelope has always felt the twinge of not-belonging within her family but little did she know it was truly because she did not belong with those who were beneath her. She who was part of the ancient line of mages who had founded the Empire- was a descendant of those who laid the bricks of what would become the greatest the world has ever seen. Gold jewelry sparkled at her neck and wrists, her white robes swishing at her ankles, her bright magenta hair in ever so soft waves- Penelope was a vision for all to see, but not one they could ever dare to touch.

Anonnnnn thank you so much for loving the way I write Athy QAQ I just did feel that she deserved everything I could possibly give her in the best way possible and if that was through worship, so be it lolol and it turned out to be the great option for me for writing wmmap ehehe and ahhhhhh novel spoiler for Penelope but that did make me intrigued enough, so I hope you enjoyed the moodboard + the little thing I wrote, I may come back to this in the future to write more for the idea too!! <333

[cheezeybread]

Hello, I'm new to the blog and may I make a few requests? It's okay if you don't want to do all of them or even none of them. I just hope they comply with the request rules.

My first suggestion is a Twisted Wonderland x LP! Athanasia! Reader. The reader is EXTREMELY beautiful since she takes after her mother, Diana, and has her father's beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly jewel eyes. However, she was executed unjustly by said father due to being framed for poisoning her "lovely" older sister Jeanette whom she was always in the shadow of.

My second suggestion is a Twisted Wonderland x WMMAP! Athanasia! Reader. Again, the reader is gorgeous and has jeweled eyes, but this time, she is adored by all, including her father, who is SUPER protective of her.

My third suggestion in a Yandere! Diasomnia x Reader who wears iron to avoid them. The reader knows they're a psycho yandere and wears iron to protect themselves.

Again, it's okay if you don't want to do all or any of them, I just hope I've complied with the rules, I've followed good requesting etiquette, and that I haven't been a bother. Have a great day!

You haven't been a bother at all! I appreciate your effort into looking at the rules and everything! ^^

I saw the first idea and IMMEDIATELY thought of the reader being a mysterious ghost that haunts NRC, so I took it and ran with it, I'm sorry if that's not what you were looking for! But the Yandere Diasomnia is something that I'm definitely gonna have to write once I finish their book, eheheh~

Tws// Mentions of death (murder, specifically), spooky ghosts, too oooh

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There were tales of ghosts and ghouls, all being passed down to the freshmen late at night in their dorms. Tales that they eventually grew out of, but for their first year, it was terrifying.

There were evidence of ghosts all around school, of course. Some of the staff were deceased, and there were even ghosts infesting the old Ramshackle of a building just on campus. But those ghosts were all good and well, and didn't bother anybody who didn't bother them. These tales were more...horrifying ones. Ghosts that would stick around for centuries after their death for revenge. And once they got revenge on their killer, they'd still lash out in rage at anybody who happened to pass by...ghosts with no eyes, ghosts who could only scream...ghosts that could and would kill.

But the story that everyone collectively feared and loved the most was that of the Jeweled Lady.

Born to a wealthy family, Jeweled Lady (often called "Jewel" by those telling the story) was exceptionally beautiful. Her mother's heavenly looks, and her father's ethereal eyes combining to create a woman who had been receiving offers of marriage from a young age. As kind as she was lovely, Jewel was beloved by the entire kingdom she lived in...but one day her sister, Jeanette, died.

Jeanette was no one of note. She was average-looking, had nothing of interest to say, and did nothing to make people view her in the same lovely light that they did her younger sister. Yet despite all of this, Jeanette was her father's favorite daughter. So once she died, the father claimed that Jewel had poisoned her, and forced a court to execute her.

It was a terrible thing, and soon after her execution, the kingdom fell into a deep, dark depression without her light. Her father and most mysteriously vanished one day, either running away to a new land, or murdered by vengeful folks.

As the story goes, Jewel haunts NRC because the students remind her of better times, times when she had so much to look forward to in life. The students give her hope, it was said, and she hoped that one day she might receive justice for her terrible demise. It was said that one could stumble upon Jewel's ghost early into the morning, just before the sun rose. She liked to hang around the courtyard the most, under blooming trees. But, of course, one could also find her in the halls or the library, longingly looking at all of the stories she couldn't read.

It wasn't uncommon for students to go out and hunt for her, especially the freshmen (despite claiming they didn't believe in fairy-tales, a good many of them fell in love with the mere idea of her). Those who claimed to see her remarked on how lovely her eyes truly were....like jewels sparkling in the moonlight. Which is why, most likely, she was nicknamed "Jewel". Her true name might never be known, lost to the passage of time....

The Beloved Ghost of NRC

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───