#I wonder if Cor has the same problem that I do

[jaeyuniversal]

you broke me first - l.hs

pairing: virgin!lee heeseung x experienced fem!reader

synopsis: you and heeseung are the school’s golden pair — popular, admired, and constantly shipped. the only problem? you can’t stand him. from competing on exams to gym class, you’re always neck and neck, and no one gets under your skin like he does. but while you see a rival, he sees the love of his life. when you overhear a hushed conversation that breaks you, will heeseung be able to win you back?

featuring: all of enha, winter from aespa, yuqi from (g)i-dle, and keeho from p1h

genre: angst... slow burn, some fluff, kissing, skinship, SMUTTTT, college au, first love trope?? sorta? one sided enemies to lovers

warnings: smut so mdni (18+), alcohol consumption, vandalizing property, Sexual Tension, everyone is around the same age (21-23), lowercase intended <3

playlist: you broke me first by tate mcrae & what was i made for — billie eilish

(smut warnings under cut!)

wc: 13.271k

a/n: first fic is here! plsplspls leave feedback as anything helps!! was listening to you broke me first and got inspo for a kinda angsty fic pls bare with me :3 anyways! enjoy the read <3<3

smut content: mention of toys (but no use), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex (not for you), dry humping, switch! hee and reader, riding, mating press, too much kissing, masturbation (m.), breeding kink, slight dacryphilia, oral (m. & f.), deepthroating, belly bulge, creampie, size kinkish, big dick! hee, not much aftercare but it's like fluffy, y/n has a “reputation” that she gets around, VIRGIN HEESEUNG (but no one knows…) i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything ◡̈

not proofread!

lee. fucking. heeseung. you hate him. you can't stand him. he always knows what to say just to piss you off. you might be wondering, "why don't you just try to avoid him?" the issue is... you do. you try with ALL your power but to no avail, he's in the same friend group as you.

your friends, knowing you hate him, decided to combine friend groups to see if you and him could mend things. spoiler alert: it failed miserably.

you felt safe in your small circle with keeho (the man you deemed to be your biological older brother — you aren't related), yuqi (your junior high best friend), and winter (your literal wife).

you guys were well known around the entire city of seoul for being the "it group" — always partying, hooking up, and somehow still acing every class (while nursing massive hangovers).

however, heeseung's friend group consisted of the golden boys in decelis university: park jongseong (known as jay, he hates his given name), sim jaeyun (known as the australian transfer student, jake), park sunghoon (the insanely hot figure skater), kim sunoo (the bubbliest person you've ever met), yang jungwon (the boy with feline features, however you've made a special note to never piss him off cause he has a black belt), and nishimura riki (known as ni-ki because he wanted to be different).

you loved riki. he was like your younger brother — chaotic, blunt, and always three steps ahead of everyone. you’d even joked once that if you had to suffer heeseung’s presence, at least you got riki out of it.

unfortunately, riki had the worst habit of instigating chaos.

“truth or dare?” he asked one friday night, grinning like he already had your life planned out. everyone was crammed into jay’s ridiculously large basement, music low, snacks half eaten, and bodies sprawled on beanbags and plush carpet.

you should’ve said “truth.” you knew you should’ve. but you weren’t a coward.

“dare,” you answered, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

the group erupted in ooooh's in perfect synchronicity.

riki’s grin only widened. “i dare you to sit on heeseung’s lap for five minutes.”

you almost lunged across the room.

“riki,” you hissed, “you are so dead.”

he just wiggled his brows suggestively. “i’m a baby. you wouldn’t hurt me.”

the worst part? he was right.

you looked over at heeseung, who was watching you like a cat watching a cornered mouse — lazy smirk, fingers casually drumming against his knee. “scared, sweetheart?”

“i’ll kill you in your sleep,” you said sweetly as you stalked over and dropped yourself into his lap like he was made of cardboard and air.

he oofed, not because you were heavy, but because he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.

“wow,” he murmured, lips near your ear. “you smell like citrus and bad decisions.”

you resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

five minutes. you just had to survive five minutes.

but then his hands casually settled on your waist, and you felt it — the spark. the electric, traitorous, goddamn spark that told you this was a very, very bad idea.

because maybe, just maybe, your hatred wasn’t as pure as you thought- no. what are you thinking??? you immediately shook the feeling that was buzzing inside you and blamed it on the alcohol swimming in your blood.

you definitely. hated heeseung. yup, yeah, you really did.

heeseung on the other hand? he was just praying to every god he could think of that you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were getting.

because he was panicking. full blown, internal screaming, oh-no-she’s-sitting-on-me-and-she’s-warm kind of panicking. he hadn't expected you to actually follow through on your usual threats, much less practically straddle him in front of your mutual friends.

but now? now he was just trying to not pass out from the sheer force of your perfume and presence and the weight of years of unresolved tension that sat heavier than you ever could.

"you're sweating," you said flatly, side eyeing him with that expression that usually meant murder or mockery — or both. "you good?"

"totally," he croaked. "i always nearly die when beautiful people threaten me. it's, like, my thing."

you blinked once. twice.

"did you just call me beautiful?"

"i said what i said," he muttered, then immediately regretted everything.

your brows lifted in slow, dangerous amusement. "you feeling okay, heeseung? you hitting on me while i’m threatening you?”

“wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, almost too quiet for you to hear.

and there it was again. the spark. like a lighter flicked too close to your frayed nerves.

you looked away, choosing to focus on literally anything else, but his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you, almost daring you to acknowledge it.

“how much longer do i have to sit on this assholes lap?” you questioned under your breath, reminding yourself, reminding him, that this was temporary.

"4 minutes!" jake sang back as his accented voice rang in your ears. fuck, it's only been one minute? you thought to yourself... until he spoke.

“i could ruin us in three,” he whispered, warm breath tickling your ear. he was so close you could practically feel his labored breathing against your back. you craned your neck to the side so you could look him in the eyes, "what did you just say???" heeseung was at a loss for words — his brain only drawing blanks.

did he say what he thought he said in his head out loud? impossible. he's hidden it so well, no one in your guys' shared friend group had even suspected his overbearing attraction towards you.

so heeseung did the only thing he could think of. he gulped.

just as your gaze dropped to his adams apple, sunghoon cleared his throat, reducing the fiery tension between you two to reduce to a simmer. "time's up" he stated. and just like that, the warmth you once shared was gone.

as the game progressed, the most interesting things to occur were jake kissing sunghoon on the cheek, riki vandalizing an old alley way that never saw the sun, and winter lady-and-the-tramping a twizzler with keeho.

you and heeseung never dared to even spare a glance in each other's direction for the rest of the night.

───

you laid awake, staring at the ceiling in jay's basement while trying to get comfy on the leather couch that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. you couldn't sleep. and the reason? none other than your self-proclaimed arch nemesis: lee heeseung.

your friend groups slept on different floors to prevent you and heeseung arguing and waking up the entire house. you slowly got up, attempting and (barely) succeeding to not step on a sleeping figure sprawled on the floor.

as you walk up the stairs from the basement, you hear two people whisper shouting at each other.

you glance at the time displayed on your phone.

a measly 3:16 am stared brightly at you. who's awake at this hour?? as you step closer to the hushed voices, you think you can make out the unmistakeable deepness of riki's voice and heeseung's annoying(ly hot) whispers, tinged with sleep.

"why the fuck would you dare HER of all people to sit on MY lap????" heeseung shouts quietly, clearly frustrated. riki bursts into a fit of giggles. "dude, don't tell me you feel something for her, don't you guys like hate each other?" he says between snide little chuckles.

heeseung freezes. there's no way riki really caught on to what he was supposed to never let slip through the cracks... right?! so he musters up all the dignity he has left and defensively grunts a series of defenses "nowhywouldieverseeherlikethatsheisn'tmytypeandithinkshe'sgross"

riki blankly stares back at heeseung's panicking eyes, "okayyy," he drags the word out, "you don't need to put her down like that, she's like my older sister, dude" riki spits back.

your lips twitch in a small smile, just for a second. just long enough for riki to catch your eyes peeking behind the corner. he nods once, subtle and solid. always in your corner.

but the comfort dies as soon as heeseung opens his mouth.

"i could never love someone like her."

and the world stops.

he says it so casually. almost like it’s a joke. like it's just another throwaway comment tossed between drinks and half-meant insults. but it lands with the weight of something cruelly true — or at least, something you believe he means.

you feel the breath hitch in your throat. just once.

riki's gaze is drawn to your frozen frame. and that's when everything freezes. heeseung whips around to see you standing there. eyes blown and glossy.

riki shifts, but he doesn’t move to try and console you — he knows better. knows this is something that'll bruise. something you need time to process, alone.

you bite back tears. “right,” you say, quietly. “of course.”

heeseung’s expression flickers — confusion, regret, something else — but you’ve already masked the pain. emotion draining from your face like you’ve trained for it. like it’s a sport. like if you stop moving, the hurt will catch up.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says, a little too late, a little too soft.

you readjust your posture, fixing your shirt.

“you meant it exactly like that,” you reply, and it’s not even bitter. it’s worse. numb.

riki’s there before heeseung can say anything else. standing between you like a wall. like a shield.

“walk away,” he tells you gently, and you do.

because if you stay, you might ask him why not. and you’re not sure your heart could take the answer.

riki turns back to heeseung, flames he's never seen before burning in the younger boys irises that are normally filled with mischief and teasing glints. but all of a sudden none of that is there anymore. it's pure, unfiltered anger. raw emotion.

heeseung wants him to yell at him. say something, anything. but nothing comes. riki just walks upstairs like he doesn't even know who heeseung is anymore.

and maybe he doesn't.

───

the next morning, when heeseung wakes up, it's almost peaceful. until rain begins to tip tap on the roof and everything comes crashing down. his chest is tight and immediately swells with regret. so much he thinks it'll spill out of him just like the rain outside.

he needs to talk to you. make sure you're okay. but he knows he's the last person you want to see right now. still, he has to try

as he descends down the stairs, he doesn't smell the usual feast jay would prepare them: eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and cereal for jake since he claims, "it doesn't hurt his tummy," (his words).

he actually doesn't see jake. nor sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, jay, winter, yuqi, or keeho.

after last nights events, he expected not to see riki as he was probably with you.

how did he go from having the girl of his dreams sitting on his lap, to making her hate him even more?

it's simple, really: he fucked up.

he moves through the house like a ghost — rooms too quiet, air too still. no laughter, no music playing off someone’s phone. just him and the rain.

the basement still has the blanket you’d curled up with last night. your mug — half full. he picks it up, and it’s cold. like him.

he tries to call riki. no answer.

he tries to call you.

it goes straight to voicemail.

he types out a text. deletes it. tries again.

“i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n”

he stares at it. sends it.

and immediately regrets it. because what if you never answer?

as he packs up all his belongings, ready for the uncomfortable drive home, someone enters the house.

heeseung's heart rate picks up. what if it's you? he bolts down the stairs and is ultimately disappointed when he's met with a very disapproving jay.

they stand across from one another, staring into each others eyes.

heeseung's the first to break. he collapses on the bar stool at the counter and drops his head into his hands like it weighs a ton.

jay just sighs and sits down next to his friend.

"is she okay?" heeseung mumbles, his face buried in his hands.

jay’s jaw tightens. "why do you care?" he snaps. "you sure as hell didn’t last night when you said you could never love someone like her."

the words hit hard — harder than jay intended — and heeseung shatters.

the sobs break out of him like a dam giving way, loud and raw. tears stream down his face, and the sound of it makes jay flinch, caught off guard by how real the pain is. how broken heeseung suddenly looks.

still, jay moves without thinking, reaching out and rubbing slow circles on his friend’s back. it doesn’t fix anything, but it softens the edges of the moment.

they sit there in silence, the storm outside echoing the one inside, as heeseung cries himself hoarse.

by the time he’s able to breathe steadily again, nearly an hour has passed. his eyes are red, his voice barely there. he lifts his head and meets jay’s gaze; tired looking into just as tired.

neither of them says much. there’s no need.

finally, jay sighs and stands. “go grab your stuff,” he says quietly. “you’re in no shape to drive. i’ll take you home.”

heeseung doesn’t argue.

because for once, he knows jay’s right.

───

your phone dings.

dni: i didn't mean what i said. i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n

you stare at your phone. gaze void of emotion. you've cried out everything you could muster.

you don't even know why heeseung's words echo in your head.

were you really that intolerable to be around? surely you weren't. all of heeseung's friends enjoyed hanging out with you and same with your little group.

so why did hearing your supposed enemy say he could never love someone like you hurt so bad?

you suppose you need to distract yourself from thinking that heeseung's words have any sort of impact on you. and that's when your door swings open. riki, yuqi, winter, keeho, sunghoon, jake, sunoo, and jungwon walk into your apartment with food, video games, board games, coloring books, skincare — everything you needed at the moment.

a break.

a break from your spiraling thoughts and endless questions you didn't want answered.

there's a knock at the door, jay comes in after he dropped heeseung off, with a freshly made cake, red velvet. your favorite.

you don’t move at first.

the warmth of your friends floods the apartment — laughter, chatter, the familiar rustle of takeout bags and the buzz of game controllers syncing. but it feels distant, like you’re underwater, watching from behind a thick pane of glass.

yuqi wraps her arms around you from behind, cheek resting on your shoulder. “we got your favorite pork buns,” she says softly.

you nod. you don’t trust your voice.

riki’s the one who notices your phone still clutched in your hand. screen glowing. that message. his message.

he doesn’t say anything, but he takes the phone from you gently, pressing the lock button, letting the screen fade to black. and you’re grateful. because if you kept staring at it, you might’ve started crying again, and you didn’t think you had anything left in you.

“movie?” sunghoon offers, holding up a stack of dvd's none of you ever returned to the library.

“coloring?” sunoo chirps, already spreading out gel pens across your coffee table.

“face masks?” winter insists, already tearing them open.

you let them distract you. you let them love you in the only way they know how — loudly, messily, unconditionally.

there’s a moment, in the middle of the chaos, when keeho makes a stupid joke and jungwon snorts soda out of his nose, that you laugh. actually laugh.

and then it hits you like whiplash — how easily heeseung could’ve been here. how almost close you came to letting yourself believe there was something soft behind his smirks and eye rolls. how you’d dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, the tension between you wasn’t just one-sided delusion.

but then he said it. “i could never love someone like her.”

and even with the people you love surrounding you, something in your chest hurts. like a bruise that won’t stop blooming.

later, after everyone’s settled into pillows and half-finished coloring pages, riki sits beside you. he doesn’t speak for a long time.

then, quietly, “you don’t have to pretend around me.”

and that’s when your lip trembles. just slightly.

“i don’t know why it hurts this much,” you whisper. “i knew he hated me. i knew. so why do i feel so broken?"

“he didn’t have to say it like that,” riki replies, voice firm. “he didn’t have to break something just because he couldn’t admit he wanted to hold it.”

you nod, finally letting a single tear trail down your cheek. riki wipes it away before it can fall too far.

he squeezes your hand.

“he messed up,” he says. “that’s on him. not you.”

you hold onto that — his words, their presence, the comfort of being chosen and cared for.

and for the first time since last night, you breathe. not easily. not painlessly. but it’s a start.

───

heeseung didn't know how hard it would be to try and get any information about you.

how you were doing, if you were okay. anything

your mutual friends? after hearing how massive he fucked up, they sided with you.

sure, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon would text him and hang out with him occasionally, but they wouldn't utter a word about you. most of the time heeseung saw them, it would be for awkward movie nights or when they would game together when none of them could sleep.

when he was alone, his mind ached, his chest twisted in pain, but mostly... his body ached.

he tried to stop it, he knew it was wrong.

but when you sat on his lap, something in him shifted.

sure he knew you were pretty (breathtakingly stunning), but he never imagined something he thought about constantly would ever become reality.

he thought back to those 5 minutes. the tension. surely it couldn't have just been made up in his head, right?

the way your entire body tensed when his hands rested on your hips. normally he wouldn't have touched you, but you were shifting and he needed to stop his growing problem before you noticed.

and thankfully it worked.

however, he was already hard as a brick.

his breath hitched as he remembered the look in your eyes — uncertain, but not scared. curious, maybe? or was he projecting again?

he swallowed hard, his hands now clenched at his sides like if he let them loose, they’d betray him again.

five minutes. that’s all it was. but it looped in his head like a damn broken record.

you hadn’t said a word. but your thighs had tensed. and when he shifted, trying to regain his composure, you hadn't moved away — not immediately, anyway.

maybe it meant nothing. maybe you hadn’t even noticed the way his breath had gone shallow or the way he was holding back like his life depended on it.

but god, his body remembered.

he shifted in his bed now, alone, frustrated, angry at himself. this wasn’t who he was supposed to be. he wasn’t supposed to want this — to want you — not like this. not in silence, not in secrecy, not in pain.

but the damage was already done.

and the worst part?

he wasn’t sure he even wanted to stop anymore.

as he stared at his chase atlantic posters, he thought to himself. any guy would get hard when a pretty girl sits on his lap, right? surely it isn't just because he's a pathetic virgin who's had to lie to his entire friend group about how he "gets around."

soon enough, his thoughts were interrupted by the rapidly increasing ache between his legs.

his hands trembled slightly as they hovered over the tent in his shorts. his breathing was shallow, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as if he were caught in some fever dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

he hated how much he needed this.

how much he needed you.

with a low, strangled groan, he finally gave in, palming himself over the thin fabric. the relief was immediate, but it wasn’t enough — it never was. not when the ache ran deeper than just skin. not when every nerve in his body was screaming for more.

he slipped his hand beneath his waistband, hissing through clenched teeth as his fingers wrapped around his thick length, already twitching with need. he was so hard it hurt, painfully stiff and dripping at the tip, slicking his palm almost instantly.

your name burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

he couldn’t say it. shouldn’t say it.

but in his head, it echoed over and over again. your laugh. your voice. the way you looked at him — or didn’t. the way you moved. god, he remembered everything. he was haunted by it.

he shut his eyes tight and let his hand move — slow at first, starting at his base and dragging his fingers up each vein decorating the sides. his patience wore out quicker than he'd ever admit, starting to move up his length, then down with just enough pressure to make his thighs twitch. he bit his lip, hard, trying to hold in the sounds. but as the memory of you shifting in his lap played behind his eyelids like a cruel fantasy, a soft whimper escaped.

he was losing it.

desperation clawed at him with every stroke, every flex of his hand. his hips lifted off the mattress as his muscles tensed. he imagined your fingers replacing his, your body hovering over his, your breath against his neck.

“please,” he gasped into the dark — not even sure what he was begging for. forgiveness? permission? you?

he pumped harder now, faster, chasing that high like it would save him. his other hand gripped the sheets, knuckles white. he was right on the edge, falling apart with nothing but the echo of your presence and the throb of need coiled deep in his belly.

“i need — fuck, i need you,” he moaned, broken and breathless. his body was hot, slick with sweat, twitching under his own touch.

he could feel it. the band threatening to snap at any moment.

he swirled his fingers around his tip, hitting that spot that made his vision go white. he was close.

all it took to unravel him was an image of you, mouth replacing his hand. trying to fit as much of him into your mouth while he just laid there and took it.

eventually the thought was too much, his seed spilled over his stomach in thick, messy ropes, his fist slowing only when the aftershocks wracked his frame like a wave of guilt and pleasure colliding all at once.

he laid there for a moment, chest heaving, skin flushed and sticky.

and then it hit him.

he still wasn’t satisfied.

because it wasn’t your touch. it wasn’t your voice, your kiss, your heat. it was just his hand and a fantasy he couldn't let go of.

and no matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times he used the memory of you…

it was never going to be enough.

───

you’ve held it together for as long as you could — smiled through movie nights, laughed at keeho’s stupid impressions, even ate something other than ramen yesterday. but it’s all surface level. the moment you're alone again, the cracks split wide open.

there you are, sitting on your couch, drowning in your thoughts. 

the faint glow of the streetlamp filters through the windows, further highlighting the text message staring back at you

“i didn’t mean it.” 

it replays in your head over and over like a broken record until your vision starts to blur. tears flood your waterline but you make no effort to stop them. 

you don’t sob. you just sit there, hurting so quietly it’s almost peaceful.

until it isn’t. 

your lip trembles slightly, then it all comes pouring out. 

“why? why did you say that? what the fuck. did i do to deserve those words?” 

riki hears your quiet words from the bathroom. he comes rushing out, empathy and sadness twirling in his eyes. 

“hey, hey, hey, talk to me y/n. yell at me if you need to, yeah?” he says. voice barely above a whisper. all you can choke out is a tiny “no, none of this is your fault.” 

riki sits next to you, holding you, trying to piece you back together as if he were the one who broke you.

disrupting the mellow silence lingering in your apartment, there’s a knock at the door.

not wanting the worst case scenario, you answering the door to heeseung, riki gets up and makes his way to where the sound came from. 

to both of your dismay, a tired heeseung stands in the doorway. 

his hair is messy, dark bags under his usually teasing eyes, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

he freezes when he sees you. your puffy eyes, shaking hands, the way you curl in on yourself like you’re trying to disappear. 

riki steps in front of you, but you give him the signal to back down. you and heeseung can handle this alone. what’s another argument anyways? 

as riki walks away, heeseung starts slowly “yn…” 

you look at him. and no matter how hard you could have tried, nothing could have stopped you from snapping at him.

“why are you here?”  “i had to see you. i had to say–”  “you already said enough, heeseung.” 

god. the way you say his name. all he’s thought about since you last saw each other was you saying his name. and now, he doesn’t wanna hear it ever again. 

he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

“do you know what it felt like to hear you say i wasn’t lovable? that someone like me could never be enough for you?” 

as if you could read his mind, you shake your head, dismissing whatever he was about to spit out. 

with every last ounce of energy you can gather, you scream. “you don’t get to feel sorry now. you made your choice the other night. i knew we had a mutual hatred, or at least some twisted distaste, but i never even thought about saying something like that to you.”

he doesn’t respond right away. just stands there, frozen. then you hear it. soft sniffles. ragged breathing. sobs.

he breaks.

because this is the first time he gets it. really, truly understands what he did. what he said. what it cost you.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice cracked and barely audible. “truly. what i said last week… i didn’t mean it. even thinking it broke me.”

you stare at him for a long, quiet second. and then you say it — flat, but shaking.

“you broke me first, heeseung.”

his breath catches. your words land like a punch to the gut, because they’re the truth. maybe the first truth spoken between you in a long time.

heeseung, who’s always so calm. so composed. the one who rolls his eyes at everything and makes everything feel like a joke. he’s crumbling in front of you now. not fighting. not defending. just falling apart.

and then it hits you. maybe he’s always been like this.

watching you. listening. never the first to strike, only ever the one to react. maybe he was never the villain in this story.

your breath hitches. maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you don’t know why the realization crashes down now. maybe it’s the sound of his sobs. maybe it’s the way the silence has more weight than anything he’s ever said. but something inside you shifts.

and for the first time, you see him — not as the enemy. but as the boy who let you hate him, because he didn’t know how to ask for anything else.

you replay every argument like a tape stuck on rewind. you were always the one who started it.

the snide comments. the sideways glances. the venom you dressed up as jokes.

heeseung never really fought back. he always matched your energy, sure, but he never escalated it. never crossed a line. not until that night.

your chest tightens. you realize you don’t even remember what the first fight was about. some hallway bump? a misunderstood glance? maybe it was never about anything. maybe it was just you, projecting every piece of your brokenness onto the only person who saw through it and stayed.

god, had he always stayed?

you remember in elementary school, how he used to bring you extra snacks when you forgot lunch. how he gave you his hoodie that one time you were shivering during morning assembly, even after you’d spent the entire week roasting him in front of your friends.

you remember the way his gaze always lingered—not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was always checking. watching over you without saying a word.

and now here he is. slumped into his knees. back pressed against the wall, crying over you.

you were so busy building walls with your bitterness that you didn’t notice it was slowly breaking him. 

the quiet way he tried to reach over them.

you sink to the floor across from him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the weight of everything between you.

for a long moment, you don’t speak. neither does he. you just breathe in the silence together — like it’s the only language you both understand.

“i didn’t know how to stop hating you,” you whisper, voice catching. “because if i stopped… i think i would’ve started needing you.”

heeseung lifts his head. eyes red, lashes wet.

“i already did,” he says. “i never stopped.”

your heart fractures in a way that doesn’t feel sharp, just tired. heavy.

“i don’t know what to do with that,” you admit.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “not tonight.”

you nod. once. then you help him get up. both your legs feel numb, but you walk him towards the door. your hand rests on the handle, taking a second to look up at him. really look at him, and you’re tempted to say something. 

but instead, you give him the quietest thing you can offer: a small, broken sort of smile. not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.

then, he steps out into the night. and just like that, the quietness of everything settling in takes over. no more lies. just the truth.

as you’re deep in thought, riki walks in with two mugs of hot chocolate — extra marshmallows, your favorite. 

-ˏˋ⋆ 3 years ago ⋆ˊˎ-  

it’s a chilly summer night. you and riki are sprawled out on the roof of his parents' house, the shingles warm beneath your backs from the day’s lingering sun. crickets hum below. the stars blink overhead, careless and constant.

you shift slightly, seeking warmth, and without a word, riki lifts his arm. you curl into the space beside him, head on his shoulder, fingers tucked into the sleeve of his hoodie. his arm settles around you like it belongs there.

“do you think we’ll ever feel like this again?” you murmur. “peaceful. like nothing’s wrong.”

he hums low in his chest. “you mean without chaos or boys who don’t deserve you?”

you let out a breath, half a laugh. “exactly.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels thick with unspoken things.

riki’s voice is soft when he finally speaks. “i think… the people who make you feel heavy, like you're constantly questioning yourself, that’s not love, y/n. that’s something else.”

you turn your face slightly to look up at him. he’s gazing at the stars like he’s afraid of admitting he craves the one thing he’s always sworn to never care about. 

“love should never hurt,” he says, quieter this time. “not the kind that stays.”

you don’t say anything right away. you’re too busy memorizing the way the night folds around his words. the way he’s always been a comfort for you, the one to pick you up when you’re falling. 

and in that moment, you believe him. you really do.

you nod once. “then i hope… when it’s my turn, it feels like this. safe.”

riki swallows. “me too.”

-ˏˋ⋆ present time ⋆ˊˎ- 

and now, back in your bedroom, the silence left in heeseung’s absence is deafening.

your gaze flicks toward the window, rain still threading down the glass like tear tracks. your mind lingers on that rooftop — the stars, the safety, the version of you who still believed in soft things.

before all the hook-ups, parties, and one-sided confessions. 

you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and whisper. either to riki or yourself, you don’t know.

“you said love should never hurt. i think heeseung missed that memo.”

and god, how you wish you could go back to that night — before the spiral, before the ache.

before the boy who made you feel like an afterthought.

before you let yourself fall over someone you thought you didn’t care about. 

riki leaves after making sure you’re alright, mumbling something about dance practice. 

and again, it’s just you. in the quiet. 

then, almost without thinking, you rip a blank piece of paper out of your journal.

you don’t plan it. it’s just instinct — fingers gripping your pen, waiting for permission your heart hasn’t quite given. but then you start writing.

dear heeseung,

i hated you before i knew how badly i could want you. maybe that’s where it all went wrong. because at some point, i stopped seeing you as the boy who annoyed me and started seeing you as someone i wanted to understand. as someone i wanted to look at me and see me. and for a while, i thought maybe you did. i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. i thought i was stupid for hating you. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole. because even when i told myself i hated you, there was always that small, traitorous part of me that wondered: what if he doesn’t hate me back? what if it’s more? but it wasn’t. and now i can’t unhear it. you probably didn’t even mean it — not in the way it came out. maybe it was fear, or pressure, or ego. but it doesn’t matter, does it? words don’t get erased just because we didn’t mean them. they echo. and yours… yours are still echoing inside me like a song i can’t shut off. i don’t think i’m mad at you anymore. i think i’m mad at myself. for letting you get close. for not guarding the parts of me i only let out in small doses. for thinking i was different to you. i wish you hadn’t said it. but mostly, i wish it hadn’t mattered so much to me that you did. – y/n

you take out an envelope, neatly fold the paper and stuff it inside, writing a neat ‘heeseung’ on the front of it. 

some truths aren’t meant to be sent. some confessions are only meant for the rain to witness.

and tonight, that’s enough.

───

the second the door shuts behind him, the silence hits like a punch to the ribs.

heeseung stands there for a second too long, staring at the wood grain of your door like it might open again. like maybe you’ll come running after him. like maybe that small, broken smile you gave him wasn’t the end.

but it doesn’t open.

and it was the end.

he starts walking. he doesn’t even remember moving his feet, just that suddenly he’s outside, and the rain greets him like an old friend. cold, sharp, unforgiving. it soaks through his hoodie in seconds, but he doesn’t flinch.

he deserves it. every drop. every chill. every echo of your voice in his head.

“not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.”

god, what did he do?

how did he take someone who was literally sitting in his lap, trusting him with the fragile thread of something real — and turn that into this? this mess of silence and space and words he can’t take back?

“i could never love someone like her.”

he had said it so carelessly. so cruelly. trying to deflect the attention off himself in front of your friends, like a coward. like a boy who still thinks protecting his ego is worth more than protecting a heart.

especially your heart.

he wipes his face with the back of his hand, unsure if it’s tears or rain. it’s probably both.

he thinks back to your eyes right before he left. the way you looked at him like he was someone you used to know. like whatever thread was between you had finally snapped.

and the worst part?

he couldn’t even beg you to stay.

because he knows — he knows — he doesn’t deserve it.

he walks home in silence, the city around him buzzing and breathing like it doesn’t care at all about the wreckage inside his chest. his phone buzzes a few times in his pocket, probably jay or jungwon checking if he made it back safely.

but none of it matters.

because there’s only one person he wants to hear from.

and you’ve already said everything you needed to say. in the way you didn’t ask him to stay. in the way you didn’t cry. in the way you simply closed the door.

so when heeseung finally steps into his apartment, soaked to the bone, trembling from more than just the cold, he collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and whispers:

“i didn’t mean it. i swear i didn’t mean it.”

but there’s no one left to listen.

not tonight.

───

heeseung isn’t the center of your world anymore.

not in the way he used to be.

in the weeks that follow, your friends become your anchor. riki never leaves your side. winter brings over matcha lattes and blankets. sunoo paints your nails while jake tells bad jokes. you laugh again. slowly, but surely.

you start writing more letters.

some are angry. some are soft. some are nothing more than wordless scratches of ink on paper.

but one night, you write a letter that feels different.

you don’t even realize what you’re saying until it’s already down:

i wanted you. for a long time. maybe even when i said i hated you. maybe that was the only way i knew how to say it without crumbling. i masked want with rage. affection with sarcasm. love with loathing. you made it easier to run. but i wanted to stay. god, i wanted to stay.

you fold that letter gently. tuck it into your drawer. it doesn’t matter if he reads it. not now.

because healing isn’t about him.

it’s about you.

and you’re getting there.

lately, the weekends have felt lighter. your apartment has become a familiar gathering place again, only now, it’s just the people who stayed. who showed up. who chose you. heeseung hasn’t come around in weeks, and no one really talks about it. not in a cruel way, just in the quiet, understanding way that friendships shift when someone slips out of the picture.

you used to dread saturday nights, used to flinch every time the group chat lit up with plans. used to wonder if he’d show up, if you’d have to spend the night pretending not to notice the weight of his silence, the way your laughter dulled around him. but somewhere along the way, those nights started to feel easier. not because you stopped missing him — but because you started remembering how to miss him without hurting yourself in the process.

your living room is alive with warmth and laughter. the scent of popcorn and mango smoothies drifts through the air. blankets are piled high on the couch, soft pillows strewn across the floor where riki is dramatically throwing himself down after losing yet another round of mario kart to sunghoon, who’s grinning like he just won the olympics.

“cheater,” riki groans, pointing an accusing finger without lifting his head.

“just admit i’m better,” sunghoon replies smugly, stretching his legs across the coffee table like he owns the place.

in the corner, winter and yuqi are dancing barefoot to a chaotic mix of early 2000s pop and indie throwbacks — somehow still synced up to choreography you’d all made up back in sophomore year. their laughter is contagious, unfiltered and bright, and it tugs a smile onto your face before you even realize it.

keeho is halfway through teaching jungwon and sunoo a tiktok dance in the kitchen doorway, voice loud and arms flailing with exaggerated energy. they’re laughing too hard to get the moves right, collapsing into each other every time they mess up. jake, unfazed by the chaos, is blending something suspiciously green in the kitchen, wearing a headband that reads “chef vibes only.”

you’re curled up on the loveseat, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a half-finished smoothie in your hands. and for once, you’re not scanning the room for him. you’re not wondering what he’d say or how he’d look at you or if tonight would be the night he pulled you aside and finally said something real.

you’re just… here. and it’s enough.

someone throws a pillow at your head, probably riki, based on the cackling, and you lunge to retaliate, laughing as the pillow war erupts across the living room. it’s messy, loud, ridiculous. and it’s yours. this little world you’re rebuilding, one laugh, one night, one breath at a time.

there’s still a part of you that misses him. maybe there always will be. but tonight, that part is small. quiet.

outnumbered by joy.

meanwhile, heeseung is alone in his apartment.

the place is dim. quiet. it hasn’t felt like home in a long time. he's been staring at his phone for an hour now, hoping for a text that doesn’t come.

he thinks about the group chat. the silence from everyone. he thinks about the night he ruined everything. and how, somehow, he still wants to fix it.

he knows an apology isn’t enough. not this time.

he needs to show you, all of you, that he’s not the same guy who let his fear speak louder than his heart.

he just doesn’t know how yet.

but he will. he has to.

because he doesn’t just want forgiveness.

he wants to deserve it.

───

somewhere in the chaos, one of your unsent letters goes missing.

riki finds it by accident. tucked under a cushion, edges worn. he doesn't mean to read it, but your handwriting draws him in, and before he knows it, he's holding your heartbreak in his hands.

he doesn't say a word. just slips it into his pocket and walks away.

a day later, heeseung finds the letter folded on the seat of his car.

he doesn’t recognize the paper at first. but the second he sees your handwriting, his heart drops.

his hands shake as he unfolds it. the silence around him is so loud, he can hear his pulse in his ears.

and then he reads it.

every word. every line. every raw, aching truth you never meant for him to see.

i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole.

heeseung sits there, completely still. letter trembling in his grip.

"fuck," he whispers. "fuck."

he shows up to the next group hangout like his life depends on it.

he doesn’t talk to anyone. not really. not until you walk in.

you freeze when you see him. part of you wants to turn around and leave.

but he doesn’t let you.

he stands. crosses the room.

"can we talk?" he asks, voice low, not demanding, but pleading.

you don’t say anything.

"please. just five minutes. if you still hate me after, i’ll leave you alone. forever."

there’s a long pause.

you nod.

he takes you outside, away from the noise, into the quiet night.

"i read it," he says.

you blink. "read what?"

he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

your stomach drops.

"i wasn’t supposed to see it, i know. but... i’m glad i did."

"heeseung—"

"no. let me say this. please."

his eyes are desperate. glassy. his words shaky.

"i lied. that night. i said that because i was scared. because i felt too much, too fast, and didn’t know what to do with it. i thought if i pushed you away, i could kill whatever it was before it killed me."

he takes a step closer.

"but you weren’t just someone i hated. not really. you were someone i couldn’t stop thinking about. you were the highlight of every party, every night, every moment. i was an idiot. but i never stopped wanting you."

your throat is tight.

"you broke me," you whisper.

he nods.

"i know. and i’ll spend every second proving to you that i’m sorry. not with words — with time. with actions. with everything you’ll let me give."

there’s silence.

then you take a breath.

"you’ve got a lot to prove, lee heeseung."

he gives the smallest, hopeful smile.

"then let me start now."

and he does.

not with fireworks. not with promises he can’t keep. but with the small things. the consistent things.

the next morning, there’s a text from him. simple. 

“did you sleep okay?”

you stare at it for a while before replying. 

“yeah. you?” 

“not really. kept thinking about you.”

you don’t answer that. but your heart stirs anyway.

a few days later, he’s waiting outside your class with a drink in his hand, the one he used to make fun of you for ordering (“that’s basically sugar and foam, y/n”), but now buys without hesitation. he doesn’t try to walk you home. doesn’t push. just hands you the drink, offers a soft “you looked tired,” and walks away before you can respond.

he lets you come to him.

at the next hangout, he doesn’t hover. doesn’t sulk. he helps jake in the kitchen, jokes with jungwon, lets the others tease him without biting back. when you walk in, his eyes find you — but he doesn’t pull you aside. just offers a quiet, careful smile. like he’s waiting. like he’s learning how to stay.

one night, you’re struggling with your laundry, balancing way too many bags and a basket of unfolded clothes, and he appears without a word, grabbing half the load from your arms. you glare at him, but you don’t tell him to stop.

he walks with you to the laundry room, helps you separate colors, folds your towels when you’re too tired to finish. “i owe you way more than this,” he says softly. you don’t look at him. “yeah,” you murmur. “you do.”

he doesn’t reply. just keeps folding.

you start to notice it more after that. the way he lingers behind after group dinners to help clean. the way he listens, really listens, when you talk, even if it’s just about the books you’re reading or the music you’ve been into lately. the way he starts learning your rhythms again, not to manipulate them, but to respect them.

one night, you find a note slipped into your bag.

“this isn’t about getting you back. it’s about being someone who deserves to stand beside you. i don’t expect anything from you. just… thanks for letting me try.”

you don’t know what to do with that. but you keep the note anyway.

and maybe the biggest moment doesn’t feel big at all. it’s late. you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, overwhelmed with everything—assignments, memories, feelings you’ve tried to ignore—and he shows up.

he doesn’t say anything. just sits beside you. close, but not too close. his shoulder brushes yours. your hand trembles. and without looking at you, he says, “you don’t have to talk. just let me sit here.”

and you do.

because he’s not trying to fix you. he’s just showing up. and maybe that’s what love looks like now.

quiet. patient. real.

you don’t forgive him all at once.

but some nights, it’s harder to pretend you don’t want to.

like the night it rains, and you forget your umbrella. you’re standing under the campus archway, clutching your books to your chest, half-considering just running for it, when a quiet voice says, “hey.”

you turn. heeseung’s holding out his umbrella, expression unreadable, hair already wet from the walk over.

“you’ll get soaked,” you mumble, surprised. “i don’t mind,” he says. “but you hate the rain.”

you want to tell him to leave. want to remind him that knowing those things doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

but instead, you step under the umbrella. shoulder to shoulder. hearts too close. you don’t say a word the whole walk home. but you remember how he always matched his pace to yours. he still does.

───

there’s another time. movie night.

everyone’s over again, sprawled across the living room. you end up between yuqi and jungwon on the couch, but at some point, someone moves, and when you shift, you realize you’re next to him. again.

the movie plays. people whisper and pass snacks and argue over the plot twist. but all you feel is the space between your knee and his. the ghost of warmth where your arms nearly brush.

you don’t move away. neither does he.

and at one point, you laugh at a stupid scene. without thinking, you glance at him, wanting to see if he found it funny too. he’s already looking at you. and for a second, everything stills.

you look away first. but your heart doesn't stop racing for a long, long time.

───

the third moment is softest of all.

it’s late. everyone’s left. you’re cleaning up alone, stacking plates in the kitchen.

you don’t hear him come back until he’s beside you, rolling up his sleeves.

“thought i’d help,” he says gently. you nod. don’t speak.

you’re both quiet for a while, working in sync. something about it feels… familiar. domestic. like home.

then, as you’re drying the last cup, you glance over. he’s watching you, and there’s something in his eyes. something tender. careful. full of things he hasn’t said yet.

“i miss you,” he says softly. 

your breath catches.

you set the cup down.

“heeseung–”

“i’m not asking for anything,” he interrupts, voice thick. “just… i miss you. and i wanted you to know.”

you swallow hard. there’s so much you could say. but instead, you whisper, “i know.”

he nods once. and then he leaves. because he meant it — he wasn’t asking for anything. but that’s the moment you know: you don’t hate him anymore. you never did. 

───

it happens a week later.

a rooftop. stars overhead. winter’s birthday, most of your friends are tipsy on alcohol, sugar and too many karaoke songs. you haven’t had a drop of alcohol, wanting to truly feel everything.

heeseung finds you leaning against the railing, eyes on the sky.

“hey,” he says. you nod and let him stand beside you.

the silence isn’t awkward anymore. it’s soft. steady.

“can i ask you something?” he says, barely audible.

you hum.

“do you still feel it?” he asks. “whatever it was… whatever we had.”

you don’t answer for a long time.

and then, quietly… “i never really stopped.”

he turns. slowly.

your eyes meet. and in them is every apology he’s ever whispered with his actions. every moment he gave you space. every time he showed up when he didn’t have to.

you reach for him first.

your hand brushes his. his fingers curl around yours like a prayer.

and then, finally, he kisses you.

soft. aching. full of every unspoken word, every almost, every could’ve been. this isn’t the kind of kiss that demands anything. it’s a promise. a beginning.

you pull back first, just enough to whisper, “i don’t wanna do this while you’re intoxicated, i don’t want you to regret it.” 

he stares at you before mumbling into your lips.

“y/n, i haven’t had a drink, but it feels like i’m drunk when i kiss you.” 

your heart stops and everything fades into the background. “don’t break me again.” you plead, face inches away from his. 

he presses his forehead to yours.

“never again,” he breathes.

and this time, you believe him.

as he reconnects your lips, his hands tremble slightly where they find purchase on your waist. the night air is cool, but your skin is burning—flushed, alive, and aching in a way you haven’t let yourself feel in so long.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes flick between yours and your lips, like he’s still not sure this is real.

“we don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “just say the word.”

but you don’t want him to stop. not tonight. not after everything.

so you slide your fingers into the collar of his jacket, tug him closer until your lips brush his again.

“take me home, heeseung.”

and he does.

his apartment is quiet when you get inside, the chaos of the earlier party gone, the night still humming with something electric. you barely have time to kick your shoes off before his mouth finds yours again. hungrier now, more desperate. like all the restraint he’s shown is unraveling, thread by thread.

his hands are everywhere — your hips, your waist, your jaw. like he’s relearning you. memorizing the weight of you against him.

you tug his jacket off, fingers fumbling with the zipper, and he lets out a low, breathless laugh against your neck.

“still impatient,” he teases.

“still hot when you shut up,” you shoot back, and he groans.

you barely make it to the couch.

he sits first, pulling you into his lap like it’s instinct, like he’s needed this for months. your knees straddle him, bodies pressed chest to chest, your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

he tilts his head, deepens the kiss, and it’s filthy. slow. wet. your hips roll against his without thinking, and the noise he makes, low and guttural, goes straight to your core.

“fuck,” he groans. forehead against your collarbone. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you arch into him, tug his shirt over his head, and he follows suit, fingers slipping under the hem of yours, eyes flicking up for permission. you nod, and he peels it off slowly, reverently, like unwrapping something precious.

his hands trail over your skin like he’s trying to remember what it feels like to deserve you.

and then his mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, trailing down until you’re gasping his name, your back arching as he presses kisses across your collarbones.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, like it hurts.

as you reach for his belt wanting to make him feel good, he puts his hand over yours. “there’s something i need to tell you.. before we take anything further.” he says like he doesn’t even want you to know. 

“what is it, hee?” 

god. that nickname. 

it’s what all his close friends call him, however when you say it. he wants to lay the world at your feet. 

“i’m.. uh– a vir-virgin…” he mumbles. you would have missed it had you not been paying close attention. 

you laugh. 

heeseung leans back into the couch, hoping, praying, wishing it to swallow him whole. 

as you observe heeseung, you realize he must be serious. “you’re a virgin? but you– you always used to talk about your hook-ups and how every week it was like you had someone new hanging off your arm??? what do you mean you’re a virgin?” 

he whimpers. he fucking whimpers. “i’m not proud of it, okay? i always came really close to hooking up with girls but i um. i couldn’t you know.. get it… up.” 

you sit there quietly, giving him time to compose himself and continue. 

“everytime i tried to lose my virginity, i couldn’t get hard unless i thought she was you,” he speaks, not gaining enough courage to look you in the eyes. 

you stare at heeseung for a moment, trying to process what he just said. the weight of it settles between you like a delicate secret, and suddenly the playful teasing tone you’d had before feels completely inappropriate.

you can see it in his doe eyes — how embarrassed he is, how much he wants to crawl out of his own skin. the corners of his lips are tugged in a tight line, as if holding in every emotion that threatens to spill out. but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. it’s soft, gentle, but laced with a teasing warmth.

“you’re a virgin?” you ask, letting the words linger a little longer than they should, pretending to be surprised as if he hadn’t just told you, twice.

heeseung’s face reddens, and you see him shrink further into the couch. you could almost feel his desire to hide, to escape. but you don’t let him. instead, you move closer, shifting between his legs, and place your hand on his thigh. a gentle, reassuring pressure.

“god, heeseung,” you tease softly, your lips curling into a smile that isn’t cruel, but playful. “how could you keep that from me? you’ve been all… big talk and ‘i get all the girls,’ and here you are, this nervous little thing, blushing at the thought of being with me?”

his eyes flicker with uncertainty, but you lean in just enough to press your lips to his ear. you feel him tense under the touch, and the subtle shiver runs through his body, telling you everything you need to know. he’s not as confident as he makes it seem.

“you should’ve told me sooner, you know,” you whisper, your voice low, just enough to make his breath hitch. “i would’ve been patient. we could’ve taken it slow.”

heeseung groans softly, his hands gripping the fabric of the couch like he’s holding onto some semblance of control. you smile knowingly, watching the struggle on his face. but it’s not discomfort — it’s desire. you can feel it in the way his eyes refuse to leave yours, in the way his body reacts to the gentleness in your touch.

“i… i don’t want you to think less of me,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it anyway. “it’s just… with you, it’s always felt different.”

you gently trace your fingers up his chest, watching as his breath quickens. you’re giving him space to breathe, to process, and then you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss.

“stop worrying about that,” you say quietly, your lips just barely touching his. “i don’t think less of you. if anything, you’re hotter right now than ever before.”

the vulnerability in his eyes shifts. he’s still nervous, but the weight is lifting. and for the first time in a while, you see him start to believe that he doesn’t need to hide anything from you.

then, you shift your focus, teasing him once more with a playful grin. “but you know, heeseung… i could help you with that. we could take this slow, maybe help you get comfortable with what it feels like to be with me. you trust me, don’t you?”

he nods, slowly, not trusting his voice. he’s ready. maybe more than he thought.

and you take that as your cue. you kiss him again, deeper this time, letting the heat between you grow. his body responds to you almost immediately. hands shifting from nervous to eager, pulling you closer as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

“let me take care of you,” you murmur, your hands trailing down to his belt. this time, you don’t hesitate. you undo it slowly, giving him time to react, but he doesn’t stop you. instead, he leans back into the couch, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

heeseung’s eyes search yours one more time, a silent question in them. you nod gently, giving him permission to be vulnerable, to trust you fully.

and when your hands pull his pants down, you can feel the heat of him, see the evidence of his desire. you take your time, enjoying the way he reacts to each touch, savoring the way he trembles under your hands.

you start by rubbing over his bulge when your eyes widen. 

he just stares back at you, not blinking, but incredibly nervous. “is– is something wrong?” he stutters out. 

“wrong? no, heeseung. you’re huge.” 

he blushes and hides his face in his hands. his veiny hands. you’ll definitely need to put those to use later. 

you softly drag his hands away from his face and tell him to never hide from you. you think he’s beautiful like this. 

after he calms down, you look back into his eyes that resemble a deer, and he nods. signaling you to continue. 

you finally trail your eyes down to his raging hard on, you can almost see it pulse. 

his breath quickens the longer you take to begin touching him.

you start by teasing his swollen tip, arousal evident in the stain on his gray boxers. he sighs heavily, tipping his head back.

as you rub your hand down to his base, you get a feel for how thick he truly is. 

he’s hard. aching. even at the slightest touch, his eyebrows furrow and he holds back soft groans. 

you rip your hand off his clothed bulge. “if you want me to continue, you need to let me hear you, baby.” 

that was his breaking point, he quickly nods his head yes looking at you with pleading eyes, “c—can you please touch me? it hurts.” 

not wanting to tease him any longer, you rip his boxers off his thighs and his throbbing length slaps against his lower abdomen reaching just above his belly button. precum smears on his abs and you get the urge to lick it off.

so you do.

you gently move his dick away from his toned stomach, swiping your wet muscle along his abs, sucking to leave light marks. 

the noises he makes are downright pornographic, and you think you’ll never be able to hear them enough.

moving your attention back to the hardness in your grasp, you begin to lick up his shaft, tracing each vein with the tip of your tongue. his head is still tipped back, frustrating you a bit because you want his attention on you. 

so… in one swift motion, you take him down your throat until his tip hits the back. his head shoots up and he moans. loud. 

heeseung is in heaven. the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock, he never wants you to pull off of him. he gently pulls your hair into a ponytail, hands shaking when you start moving.

his apartment is filled with filthy noises: wet, loud, and obscene. 

he can hear and feel your gag reflexes kicking in but you don’t budge. you continue to move up and down, not wanting to stop until he cums. 

his tipping point was you somehow taking him even further down your throat, nose brushing his pelvis. he thought you were going to take a break for air but you didn't. 

you stay.

swallowing around him.

the pressure in your jaw is almost unbearable but when you feel his thighs shaking, you know he’s close. and you need to ruin him. 

hollowing your cheeks, you swirl your tongue around his engorged tip, hands coming up to play with his heavy balls. he can’t hold back anymore. the sensation of you taking his whole cock down your tiny throat and the stimulation of his balls in your hands. he groans. 

desperate. low. deep

and spills down your throat. warm, wet, and sticky ropes, pour out of his tip. taking up all the space you had left, some spilling out from the corners of your mouth.

you swallow all that you can, then pull off from his dick. 

heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard. heeseung threw an arm over his eyes, chest heaving, trying to regain control of his senses.

meanwhile, you haven’t stopped clenching your thighs together. 

you didn’t even notice you were staring until he clears his throat. he just looks so gorgeous all fucked out.

“wow. did you– swallow.. it?” he asks through pants. 

you answer him like it was the most natural thing in the world, “yeah, because it was you” 

he moans, again. and that’s when you notice he’s still hard, still aching. 

as you move to straddle his lap, he grabs your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist. “not here, i want our first time to be special” he says softly, with a kiss to your temple. 

he carries you to his bedroom on wobbly legs and gently lays you down on his bed, hovering on top of you. he plants wet kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, collarbones, until he reaches your covered chest.

looking at you with big, lust filled eyes, he waits for your green light. you nod and he fumbles with your bra clasp, eventually tearing the fabric away. 

“you’re stunning,” he says completely awestruck by your half-naked form. 

as he continues staring, he licks his lips, slowly lowering his head wrapping his soft lips around one of your perky buds. 

you instinctively arch into his touch, one of his hands wrapping around your waist as his other hand gently kneads your other boob. soft gasps and whines slip from your lips as you try to grind up in search of any friction where you need it most. 

he senses your desperate pleas and starts moving his body to slot between your legs, face in front of your clothed core. you wiggle your hips trying to convince him to speed up and touch you where you need it the most. 

“can i…?” he practically begs, “yeah” you sigh as you relax into his plush sheets. he drags your sweats down your soft legs planting kisses along the inside of your thighs, all the way down to your calves. he makes his way to your panty clad pussy, pressing a soft kiss to your bundle of nerves aching for him. 

you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before.

he looks so good between your thighs, you want this image ingrained into your brain forever. 

he brings his thumb up to press on the wet spot that’s formed on your panties, groaning, “fuck, you’re so wet.” 

“all for you.” 

he replays those words in his head and his patience snaps. tearing your underwear in half, he wastes no time. tongue lapping and the wetness between your legs, like he’s been deprived of any liquid all his life.

you’ve never met someone this desperate to eat you out. or anyone for that matter.

he mumbles against your core, “guide me, please, wan’ you t’feel good, mmh.”

your hands take place in his silky soft roots, gently tugging on the strands. 

through whimpers, you tell him to focus on your clit, and surprisingly (for a virgin), he finds it fairly quickly. 

he briefly sucks on the nub, flicking it with his tongue to soothe it. “fuck, hee” you moan out into the space of his bedroom. 

he groans against your pussy, carefully bringing up his fingers so he can push his tongue into your awaiting hole. the moment he starts fucking you with his tongue, you arch your back and grind into his face, needing more. 

he heard his friends talking about “prep” and “stretching girls out,” so he wonders if you need to be stretched out to take him. you said he was huge, did you mean it? he has no idea, he’s a pathetic virgin who has only shoved his dick into his right hand. not even a pocket pussy or fleshlight. 

to your dismay, he pulls away for a brief second asking if he should use his fingers. “please, i need you to stretch me out, i can’t– take you without prep,” you rush out feeling your high not far away.

“shit, okay baby,” he mutters back before bringing his middle finger up to spread your juices around. 

your hips jerk up when he focuses on your clit, surprised by the stimulation. 

slowly, he pushes his finger in, getting used to the warm sensation of your walls. 

you clench around his thick digit, feeling fuller than when you finger yourself. as he pumps it in and out, you tell him to add another one and he does. 

moaning in relief, you arch into his touch as his tongue finds its way back to your sensitive clit. 

between him lapping like a dog and the feeling of two of his fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, you feel a familiar band in your stomach building up.

your moans increase and heeseung feels dizzy, taking in all that you give.

he curves his fingers all while sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing you to tip over the edge and that band in your stomach to snap. 

you come crashing down, chanting his name like a mantra as heeseung helps you ride out your high. 

as you lift your head and meet his gaze, he looks more fucked out than you do. hooded eyes, tongue lolled out of his mouth, gaze consumed with lust. you pull him by the collar of his shirt until your lips collide in a mess of tongues and teeth. 

your makeout session unfortunately doesn’t last long as heeseung starts whining into your lips. 

that’s when you realize his cock found your bent knee, not so subtly grinding against it, trying to relieve some of the ache. 

“feeling needy, are we?” you tease, earning a playful roll of the eyes from heeseung. 

pulling back, you drink in his bare torso– he’s always been muscular as he was very popular with the ladies (until he got into bed with them). 

dragging your hand up his chiseled abs, his stomach tenses and his dick twitches. 

you found his second biggest weakness, besides you. his abs. 

deciding to end the teasing there, since you’re also becoming increasingly impatient, you flip him over so you land on top of him with a quiet, “oof.” 

as you settle your bare core on his rock solid cock, you start grinding, placing your hands on his chest for support. 

he can’t hold back the guttural groans spilling from his mouth. not believing you’re really on top of him right now. this isn’t just one of his wet dreams. 

he thought this couldn’t get any better, but when he struggles to get out a weak ask for a condom, you just respond with “no, i’m– on the pill. need to feel you. all of you.” 

and to that, he moans, not believing his ears. 

it’s his first time. and he’s about to have sex with YOU. raw. he thinks he’s dreaming. there’s no way you’re real.

you gently angle his dick towards your awaiting hole, sinking down until his fat tip is inside you.

instantly, you both sigh in relief, starting to feel the pressure ease up. 

if you feel a stretch at his tip entering you, you don’t know how you’re supposed to fit all of him inside you. he’s the biggest you’ve seen and he doesn’t even know it.

your attention is drawn back to the man consuming your brain when he whines. “m-more, please.” he’s becoming needier the longer you stay at just his tip but you don’t know how to tell him you’ve never taken a size like him before.

“hee-heeseung i need a sec, you’re– fuck. so thick,” you say between moans. 

his grip on your hips tightens, a silent way of telling you to take your time. 

when you finally deem yourself ready, you sink lower, wanting to speed it up, bracing the stretch to come. 

you feel him pulsing inside you and that’s all you need to sink all the way down, him bottoming out inside you. 

it’s his first time feeling anything other than his hand wrapped around him, and he whimpers, loud. it’s overstimulating in the best way possible and before he knows it you move up to his tip and bounce back down. his dick twitches and you feel it. every vein, every pulse, every movement, even his heavy breathing. 

heeseung, not in control of his movements, bucks his hips up, making another non-existent inch fit inside your stretched out core. 

you moan soft and loud, eyes rolling back, as the pain turned into pleasure. bouncing faster on his girthy cock, you uncontrollably clench around him, causing heeseung’s grip to tighten. you know it’ll bruise tomorrow, but at the moment, he feels too good for you to care. 

the room smells of sex, and the only sounds that can be heard are skin clapping and your shared noises. 

heeseung must notice your legs becoming tired because before you know it, you’re flat on your back with heeseung on top of you, cock never slipping out from your pussy. 

his large hands grab each of your thighs, pressing them to your chest.

his pace is slow at first, testing the waters, getting a feel for a rhythm. 

as his hands stay pressed to your thighs, he slowly drags out and pushes all of his dick inside you. 

you feel him deeper in this position, a bulge forming in your lower belly. 

when he notices, his eyes stay glued there.

you wonder what he’s looking at but the moment you look down, you’re met with his hand pressing slightly on the bulge causing the loudest moan to leave your lips. 

he signals you to hold your thighs as one of his hands holds himself up and the other focuses on how he can feel his dick inside your guts with every thrust. 

his pace suddenly quickens when you clench hard around him, making his hips stutter briefly. 

endless praises leave his pretty lips, telling you how good you feel, how hot you look laid underneath him, taking whatever he gives you. 

feeling a familiar, yet new sensation building rapidly, you try to warn him that you’re close but somehow, he already knows. “i know baby, let go whenever you want.” he mutters back, feeling just as close to his high.

“fuck– where do you want it?” he rushes out, not wanting to cum inside you if that isn’t what you want. 

but apparently, all the gods are smiling down on him as you release your thighs from the grip you had on them and wrap your legs around his waist. “inside,” you moan. 

and at that, he cums. hard. ropes of his hot, gooey, cum spill inside you. tipping you over the edge.

with a loud groan, clear liquid comes rushing out from you, spraying all over his sheets and lower abdomen. soaking his dick. 

heeseung moans. again. raw and unfiltered at the fact that you just squirted all over him (he’s seen enough porn and heard too many stories from your shared friend group to know what squirting is). 

as you come down from your high, heeseung is somehow still cumming. it spills out of you, creating an even stickier mess on his bed. but he doesn’t care. 

not when you’re beneath him, chest rising rapidly, trying to catch your breath. 

heeseung’s cock is still lodged inside you, holding half of his cum inside you, not wanting it to go to waste. 

as he collapses on top of you, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, holding your trembling body close to his.

you were the first to speak, “i didn’t even know i could do that,” talking about how you squirted all over him. “guess we both had firsts today,” he softly chuckles. 

his breath is warm against your skin, his arm tightening just a little around your waist as if anchoring himself in the moment. you don’t respond right away, too caught up in the quiet thrum of your heartbeat, the lingering warmth between you, the way his fingers begin tracing gentle, absent-minded shapes against your spine.

“i didn’t expect it to be like this,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the hush of the room.

“like what?” he asks, voice low, like he’s afraid to shatter the calm.

you shift slightly to face him, resting your head more comfortably on his chest. “soft. safe.”

Hheeseung lets out a breath that sounds like relief and something deeper, something reverent. “yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”

for a while, neither of you say anything. he pulls the blanket higher over both of you, his other hand brushing your hair back with such tenderness that it makes your eyes sting. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he means it.

“you okay?” he asks, voice still rough from earlier, but softer now, like the edge of him has been smoothed by your touch.

you nod, then glance up at him. “are you?”

heeseung meets your gaze, and something in his expression shifts. vulnerability bleeding through the cracks he used to hide behind. “i am now.”

your heart squeezes.

he licks his lips, nervous. “i’ve been so stupid with you. all this time, i kept pushing and pulling, thinking maybe if i kept it messy, it’d be easier to walk away if i had to.” he pauses, his voice thinning. “but tonight just… made me realize i don’t want to walk away.”

your breath catches. “heeseung…”

“i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he says, eyes searching yours. “not the sex, not the closeness. i want you. the fights, the tension, the way you drive me crazy and still somehow make me want to be better just by being around you. i’m so in love with you, it hurts.”

your lips part in surprise, and he laughs quietly, self-deprecating and shy. “too much?”

instead of answering, you lean up and kiss him, slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say until now. when you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, smiling as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“i’m in love with you too, idiot.”

he grins, wide and a little teary-eyed, and pulls you closer like he’s never letting go.

and you know he won’t have to.

pls reblog & leave feedback <3 hope you enjoyed the read ◡̈

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250417

[relax-and-read-on]

More primarch bio baby headcanon, because yall seem to love them

This time only the traitor primarch, bcs I want to go deeper in the HC. Cor the sake of "how do they get babies", I will go and say that Big E wanted them to have heir for some reasons, and in his usual fashion, just sprang random tube babies on them.

Konrad: He was already unhappy to be a father to a bunch of semi-responsable adult. He's gonna FREAK OUT at having at baby. He's really bad at it, but at least he has the common sense to admit it and ask for help. The problem is that he's suronded but other psycho weirdo. The child is actually quite happy, as they get away with everything and happen to be super spoiled. Every night lord adore them and are just so! Excited!! To teach the kid how to stab people!!! Surprisingly a social kid, and that's mostly Sevatar influence, as he half raised them. It make for a lot of hilarious situation, and their dad is really confuse by it. The only creature in existence that will hapily sit on Konrad knee. Doesn't understand the concept of fear. Or of social nicety. Or of gender. Probably nibble on cut fingers for his afternoon snack. Somehow, manage to be one of the cutest primarch baby. Very chubby too, because Konrad grew up in food insecurity, and it trigger deep fear in him. Grew up to be an absolute lil monster, who fit in perfectly with his family. They are just a bit sad that they can't seem to befriend other kids their age, or the various cousins they have.

Mortarion: he love his kid so much. The kind of tender quiet love where he keep a stack of letter for his kid to read when they are older. He never use a baby voice with them, and never really shy away from the harsh reality of life. Love working with his child in the same room, and offer them just. So many books. An incredibly bright and clever kid, who probably prefer spending time with adult than other kids. Still, Mortarion really worry that he can never offer them what they deserve, and that his legions is just... Not the best environment for a child. Very, very gradually, he get them away, spend more time at the golden palace or with other legions. It break his heart in a millions pieces, but he fully think that they would be better away from him. Said kid does grew up in a wonderful person, and does come around from time to time to hang out with their distant but loving father.

Magnus: God that one is complicated. See, Magnus is a good guy. A great guy even! And he does care a lot for his sons! But they are adults. They are smart, logical being. A child, a baby, is not logical at all. It's not that Magnus dislike them at all, he just is.... Disinterested in them. He can't really have deep conversations or anything with a baby, and he's always so busy. Probably figure very quickly how to cradle and rock them psychically, wich he find smart because hey, now he has his hands free and can fo other things!! The problem is that him and the child develop no attachment to each others, and it only get worst as the time goes on. Of course he love the child, it's a biological impulse, but he also over analyse his own feeling and doesn't have to instinctive impulse and feeling that he should get. Meanwhile, the child grow more and more contrarian toward Magnus, making the gap in understanding between them only grow. By the time they hit teenage years, they are downright frosty with one another, and Magnus is lowkey at a lost how he got there. Especially since his kid is "finally" starting to be interesting and have good convo, and he's actually paying attention to them now. This is the last straw, and said child just. Demand emancipation and move out.

Lorgar: He didn't sleep the first night he got his baby. He sat in silence, holding them in his room, as they slept in his arm. And in that moment, he realised that he would never, ever raise his hand on them. That he would rather die before doing that. It was an earth shattering revelation, and he probably cried a bit, realising that he has a LOT of issues, and that he was going to have a lot of problem going forward. He himself feel trapped in his own environment he made, with Erebus and Kor Phaeron who just keep advising him on how to handle his child. He ignore them at the best he can, but he also has extreme anxiety on leaving the kid alone with anyone. If they have to be babysat, he will go out of his way to let his own brothers care for his child and not his legions. He love his sons, but he know they would also obey Erebus and his horrible father. In spite of that, he raise his kid in his religion, and make sure that no one can reproach anything to them. As they turn teenager and start to questions and rebel a lot more, he has to get in rather ugly argument and fight with everyone around him to protect his child. Eventually the kid just... Want to go away and renonce their faith, and sure, it made Lorgar hearth brake, but at the same time, his child was free. Probably sent them to Roboute or Corvus, to their great confusion. They don't talk for a few years, because religious trauma take time to process, but they do come back to talk to their loving dad, when they eventually realised the amount of sacrifice Lorgar has done for them.

Perturabo: All his life, he wanted to be the first choice, the number one, to be loved unconditionally. The first time he held his kid, realised that this lil innocent human loved him without question, he decided that his entire life was dedicated to them now. He would burn down the universe before letting harm happen to his baby. Never, ever loose his tamper with them, and has a very hard time not just.... Holding them everywhere. Co sleeping is very much happening. He actually become a better person for his child, a lot more social and a bit more mellow on his legion. The kind of dad who show you his entire photo album of his kid after talking to you for 5 minute. They stay very close and in general he's in the running for dad of the year. Get every drawing they ever produce framed and put on display. Organise the best birthday party. That kid is so happy, has such a brilliant and wonderful life, you know they become friend with a lot of the other, fast. Perturabo actually tell them, once they are older, that they are the best thing to have ever happened in his life. Full stop. They became a better person, and raised a wonderful kid. Yall know big E is patting himself in the back for that one.

Angron: This is just cruel. Giving a child to Angron, while he has the nail, is straight up torture. He love kids, alright? Adore them. He would have had many if he could. But he know he's not a competant father right now, and he's so scared of accidentally hurting them, or that one of his sons will. As a result, the child is raised collectively, as much by space marines than the human crew. Very young, they understood that their dad had problem in his brain, and that it's not that he doesn't love them, he's just sick. They never miss on love tho, as there is always someone to play with and care for them. Very early on, they develop an interest in medicine and helping others, and the day when a 10 years old say to Angron that they want to become a doctor so they they can heal their father and legion's brothers? Angron cry ok. He adore that pure little soul, and cannot beleive that he was blessed with such a sweet child. Very touch receptive, they were raised in a legions where most have occasional fits where talking is near impossible, and as such, hugging and physical touch became very common. They also figured are the one to figure out that sign language is not affected by the nails!!

Horus: The funny dad. You know, like those classic silly sitcom dad, who don't always understand what is going on with their kid but gosh do they love them. Shower them in praise, and probably push them into all sort of activities and hobby. He's raising them with Sanguinius' one, making them a lil family of 4. Horus consider both child like his owns, and both kids see them as parents, and consider each other twins. The child specifically from Horus does start having issues as a teen, mostly of the rebelious, "i don't want to be like my dad" kind. Nothing super major, but they have a tendancy to sneak out and go have fun with like, the human crew. Horus want to be more mad, but he does recognise himself a lot in that child, and he has another kid to also care for. They reaaally love having 1 on 1 bounding activity tho, like sparing or piloting small spaceship. Probably the most alike of all parent/kid duo. There is a lot to be said, but it mostly relate to their twin sibling and the family unit as a whole with Sanguinius. That said, Horus child is VERY clingy of his "twin", and when they were young, refused to be separated from them.

Alpharius/Omegon: I love those two. I love their legion. It CANNOT be a good environment to raise a child, I'm sorry. You can't just Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss your kid into joining the super spys, this is not how this work. The amount of tantrum that kid would throw early one, from growing up in an unstable environment... Yeah no. They feel no emotional connection to the child, at all. Not only that, but you know they have a tendancy to put work before family, and again, that put the kid in a bad place. They are barely a pre-teen when they have one final meltdown, screaming that they hate them, and wants nothing to do with the family and the legions. And the twins... Sadly, they never really wanted a child. It's almost a relief to send them away. They are clearly much more happy living in a stable environment, and as such, straight up avoid their father(s) from that point in. They are never really able to like one another.

Fulgrim: See that baby, and decide that this child is now their #1 priority. Somewhere between a dance mom and a karen, Fulgrim is also raising that kid with Ferrus, and thank god for that. He's very competant... But also, at the same time, only want the best for them. And that include the kid giving their best. The child mention like drawing exactly once? Paint master are brought in to teach them, and only the most luxurious of material are used. He knew what it's like growing up and having nothing, with no opportunity, and he never want his child to feel that way. A big problem is that his various anxiety also reflect on the kid, who get his own helping, and they just end up having monstrous, screaming argument at one another over like, the best color for a throw pillow. They both run very high on emotions and love one another very much, they just have a hair trigger tamper. Ferrus keep the peace between them, with his own kid. The two sibling don't see themself as twins, Ferrus child was declared the "oldest" by virtue of being taller. The two siblings bicker a lot, but it's in good humour.

.... God damn I wrote a novel. Idk, just. Parenthood inspire me I supose lmao. At this point im almost making oc.

[fierysword]

Heya, so I really struggle with this a lot and I was wondering your take on it. How do you deal with God's apparent silence? Like as if They have abandoned us in this day and age? Thank you in advance 😊

Hi! Correct me if I'm wrong but I think you're getting at the problem of evil? Seeing all the tragedies in the world and wondering why God hasn't stopped it? I also struggle with this.

I've found that process theology is helpful. It is the belief that God doesn't have (or use) coercive power, but has influential power and God is inside everything, constantly trying to guide everything towards goodness and harmony (Col 1:17-20, 1 Cor 15:25-28). Things and people have free will so they don't always submit to this influence from God, and that's why tragedy and injustice exists. But during every tragedy, we can see God working in all the people who are helping out. God is Love, so in every kind and just act, we see the influence of God.

I can imagine some arguments that God does act in a coercive way because [insert bible story here]. My interpretation is that God doesn't willingly grieve people (Lam 3:33) but, in order to encourage good and loving behavior (and thereby reduce total suffering), God created a cosmic law of consequences in which people (sooner or later) get back what they put out (Gal 6:7). So when a bible character does something & the bible says God punishes them, I think it's usually just that cosmic law at work. Technically you can say it was God's doing because God created that law, but it's not the same as God using coercive power to control a person or thing.

(I'd also like to clarify that not everything bad that happens is due to God's cosmic laws - sometimes bad things happen to good people for the reason I bolded above).

The good news is that (I believe) everything has a natural inclination to eventually return to the Love of God, similar to how a fish has a natural inclination to need water. Via Christ, God demonstrated that goodness can and will overcome the greatest evil (death), and all other evils.

To become more aware of how God works in your life, I would suggest making a gratitude journal (every good thing is an example of God's presence in your life). I personally make a habit of thanking God whenever something makes me happy, even if it's as simple as my cats' cuddles.

You could also try breath prayer (see here, here, and here). Meditation can also be helpful to recognize your connection to God. When the weather is good I like to walk in nature and meditate on Psalm 119:64. Also, look into contemplative spiritual practices to recognize that the question is never whether or not God is present, but whether you are aware of God's presence.

Btw, God hasn't abandoned you. I believe God guided you to ask me this question - I watched a webinar on this very topic today.

[awlwren-writes]

12 and 26 for OTP ask meme, CorNyx

12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

I think they have friendly arguments over incidental things, like food and proper sock wearing and Cor growing out his hair, and they have long-running threads in those arguments that they can pick up again at any time. But those are mainly superficial and silly, and for the most part they don't expect the other to change. (Cor does expect Nyx to get better about washing the dishes when he's by himself and not just doing it when someone is there to dry, and he has gotten a little better. Nyx has similarly worn him down about actually getting furniture and not just making stacks of books that function sort of like very precarious tables)

They also have very silent arguments about big things, like taking better care of themselves, some missions they've gone on, how much they can dictate each other's work and social lives (dragging the other to events, for instance, or disapproving of friends/acquaintances), etc. Those tend to start with a rational-ish argument and then the moment the first person yells they walk away and don't talk until someone is ready to concede or to admit that neither of them is going to budge. The time before that consists of them not talking to each other and just sort of working around each other. Early in their relationship that also consisted of returning to their own homes or alternate beds (in the office, etc), but once they've been through this a few times and have a more solid relationship, they come home and sleep in the same bed and cohabitate, but just in silence until they figure out where their lines are.

26. What are their vices?

Nyx likes going fast -- warping, driving -- seeking ever-higher heights, risk-taking (of course), wandering off to be alone (yes, this is a vice when the world is trying to kill you and people are wondering where you are), alcohol, sometimes obsessive exercise. Depending on the fic, sometimes sex. Falling in love very easily and hard (platonically and romantically), getting burned (through death or just mismatched levels of love) and doing it all over again. Generally easy going, but extremely petty when he's angry.

Cor likes to withdraw. He takes solitude as his default, and if no one goes in after him or he doesn't have a reason, can go weeks without truly talking with someone. When he does finally talk to someone, usually ends up weepy, which he hates. Also can fall into the obsessive exercise problem. And obsession in general. Can ride a self-righteous anger wave for a very long time once he gets going. Doesn't really understand his own personal budget, so swings between super frugal and overly extravagant on purchasing things. Loves music, never seeks it out himself, has to be dragged.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 10 - above the clouds

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You were pleased to see a hint of surprise on Zhongli’s face when you flung open the front door three hours before you were meant to come home from work. Even Zhongli got caught off guard sometimes, it seemed. 

“Back so soon?” Zhongli put down his book and watched with raised brows as you sprinted across the living room to your own, then back. “Oh dear, has there been another fire?”

“Very funny,” you found yourself smiling. “Xiangling wants to bring me to Cuijie Slope to gather some Qingxin. We might be camping there overnight! She told me to go home and grab some warmer clothing.” You flapped your billowing white sleeves at him to make your point. This was one of the first pieces of clothing he had bought you, and you found excuses to wear it the moment so much as a breeze picked up. It was warm, comfortable, and it had pockets!

Though certainly, the way that Zhongli usually smiled when he saw you in it wasn’t half bad either. 

Today, he did not smile. “Cuijie Slope?” The slight edge to Zhongli’s voice had you taking pause as you slung your backpack over your shoulder. You studied his face, but found, as always, nothing to betray his emotions. “Xiangling told you that?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, more carefully now. “Is it a problem? Sorry, I should have asked you beforehand, I know—“

“Hmm. It’s nothing at all.” Zhongli said, picking his book back up. “Though Cuijie is known to have its fair share of Hilichurl camps, Xiangling is a good fighter. You two will be fine.” 

Ouch. Though there was no way Zhongli could know of your Vision, it still stung that Xiangling had so much mastery over hers and you— well. 

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.” You quietly returned to your room, the oddity of the interaction quickly forgotten in your excitement. This would be the furthest you had ever ventured out of Liyue Harbor, and with the lovely Xiangling, no less. You stuffed an extra set of clothes into your bag, and another book for good measure — sometimes waiting for the hunting traps to spring took hours that even Xiangling’s bright voice couldn’t fill. 

You paused in front of the drawer by your bed. It certainly didn’t seem like fate was fond of the idea of you seeking Zhongli’s help with the Vision, and frankly, neither were you. At best, you would receive lessons from the most talented (and only) Geo Vision user you knew. At worst? Well, you had never seen Zhongli’s fury, and you didn’t plan on forcing him into one. The longer you waited, the angrier he would be at your deception. Perhaps your chance at telling him had already passed.

And what good would the Vision be if you brought it with you? If Xiangling saw it, would she tell Zhongli? Though you didn’t think so, it was not a risk you were willing to take.

Before you left, your gaze fell upon the dragon’s fang on the windowsill. Whether it was truly Rex Lapis’, you did not know; but you could not imagine Zhongli lying. You stuffed it into your bag along with everything else. Certainly, something associated with the God of Wealth would be good luck all the same. 

Zhongli had already opened the front door for you when you emerged from your room, waiting with his hands behind his back. “Have a lovely trip,” he said, with so much warmth in his voice that you briefly considered cancelling on Xiangling and staying home with him instead. “And Hansi?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli?” 

His golden eyes glittered in the sunlight as he looked, it seemed, straight through you. 

“Please do stay safe.” 

—-

“Wow, for a ‘slope’, this— this is really tall,” you joked feebly between rattling breaths. Was it just you, or was it getting a little harder to breathe? It seemed like you’d been climbing at an incline for hours.

Xiangling pulled to a sudden stop in front of you, almost tripping you over. You peered at her in silence inquisition, and after a moment of eyeing you carefully, she finally spoke. “Okay. Okay, you have to promise not to tell Mr. Zhongli about this.”

“About...?” You asked. 

The little chef chewed her lip for another few seconds before blurting, “there’s no Qingxin in Cuijie Slope. That’s not where we’re going.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not at Cuijie Slope,” she said, words flowing faster than the waterfall you’d just passed. “My dad would’ve lost his mind if he found out, so I had to say that we were going to Cuijie.” She paused, eyeing your expression and grabbing your hand. “Please don’t be mad at me! It’s all mountains here so there’s gonna be SO much more Qingxin than the one or two we usually find and- and I’ve never even been here so just think of all the rare ingredients waiting to be found and—“

“Xiangling, where are we?” You asked, even though you already had a feeling you knew.

Xiangling sighed, before finally admitting: “Jueyun Karst.”

Immediately, you knew that you had to turn around and go home. Of the stories that Zhongli had told you, plenty were about Jueyun, the land of the mystical and illuminated Adepti. The concentrated mystical energy here attracted plenty of unfriendly creatures — and the Adepti themselves certainly didn’t sound to be the welcoming sort. 

But before you could squash it, another memory came to mind. The pure Cor Lapis that Zhongli treasured so much, the one from his dear friend— did he not say that it could only be found in Jueyun Karst?

Xiangling was still going on with no sign of slowing down. “—I know that some people say that it’s dangerous but I’ve heard the little girl from Bubu Pharmacy come here, so how dangerous can it really be? And besides, what’s an adventure without a little bit of excitement—?”

Yes, how dangerous could it be for two Vision-holders, if a child could come and go as she pleased? Surely you could dip in, find a few ingredients for Xiangling… perhaps a Cor Lapis or two for Zhongli and get home before night fell and the monsters came out? You could already imagine the smile on Zhongli’s face, the gentle thanks he would offer—

Xiangling finally paused to take a breath, still carefully eyeing your expression. “But of course, if you want to go home, I won’t stop you.“ 

“No, this is exciting,” you beamed, “let’s go.”

—-

As you walked along the paths of Mt. Hulao, the dread in your heart at disobeying Zhongli slowly waned. Never had Zhongli explicitly forbidden you from coming here — he’d only warned you against it. There was no contract to be broken. He would surely forgive you when no harm came to pass.

While Xiangling carefully bottled each Qingxin, sweet flower and mint petal she came across, you busied yourself with peering at every Cor Lapis vein along the rock path up. It seemed that the higher you went, the purer the Lapis got, and eventually, you managed to — with a lot of help from Xiangling and her polearm — crack open a chunk that shone so brilliantly translucent under the sun, you had to squint to look at it.

You could barely wait to see the look on Zhongli’s face. You carefully wrapped the prized Lapis in a handkerchief, then placed it in your pocket — you didn’t want to even risk it getting scratched by all the stuff in your bag. 

The sun had stained the horizon with the color of Zhongli’s eyes by the time you neared the peak of the mountain, yet Xiangling showed no signs of wanting to go home. A few times, you wondered if you should say something— yet when you swung around the steep path and emerged from the trees to an open sky full of monumental stone forests draped in wispy clouds, any lingering apprehension you might have had disappeared instantly. 

It especially helped that Xiangling, wielding her flames as proficiently as she did in the kitchen, made short work of chasing away any Hilichurlian creatures that came by. 

“That one looked a little different,” you pointed out as Xiangling sent another little gathering of hilichurls packing.

“Yup, I think that Xingqiu — he’s my friend, he knows everything — called it… a samachurl?” Xiangling offered. “They can use the elements, but they’re still Hilichurls. Nothing to worry about! Really, I don’t know why everyone made such a big fuss about this m—” 

In the next few seconds, time seemed to slow to a crawl. 

All you knew was heat, blinding and searing against your cheeks. The sky-shattering explosion that followed was the loudest thing you had heard in your life, and you could only watch as the plume of ravenous flame hit Xiangling squarely on her side. She crumpled to the ground with a small, broken sound, clutching at her shoulder. Through her fingers, you could see the raw red scarlet of blood.

A creature you had never seen before appeared before the two of you, hovering two feet above the ground. It was dressed in a fur-lined, crimson shawl. A black, bird-like mask hid all of its face but glowing, hollow orange eyes that flicked between you and Xiangling. After a few seconds, it laughed, an ugly noise that seemed to echo all around you. 

“And here I was, wo̝̕r̠r̻̠̲͔̮̟̥i̷̲̼e̺͠d̗̖̗̼̮,” it chittered,, waving its flaming staff around with glee. Occasionally, it lapsed into a language you did not know, but which sounded so ancient that it chilled your bones, “that the trespasser would b̶̮̼̹e̹̘͚̗ ̹̣t̯͔̪͇h҉̩̮̩̺̣̫e̞̦̞̣̫̪ ͖͈͔̦̰̱s͖̲̮̺̳is̥̺̬͙t̫͕e͎̘̜͚͕͞r͏̬̞̟͚͉͓ͅ of the Prince! But just two humans! One blessed by the Archon of Flame! And the other— the other reeks of the A̱͙̣̙̤̲̳r͎c̥̳͚̩͠h͏̙̮̙̗̭̣̬o̹̫̮̕n̰͔ ̼͜o͉͔̼̟f͇̞̦ ̮̩͕̻͟S̲͎̥t͔̼̼on̳ę̝̰̤̖̭̥!̣͚͕̜!”

Was the creature an adeptus? It could speak, and though much was gibberish that you didn’t understand, perhaps it could be reasoned with. “We’re terribly sorry for trespassing,” you tried to steel your shaking voice, “oh Mighty and Illuminated Adeptus. We’ll leave immediately. Please grant us a safe passage through the forest.”

“ A̭̱͍̮͘D̰͖͓̲̲Ȩ̙͚̺̻̞̻P͢TU̮̣̞͈̠S? ” It shrieked, a ring of fire forming around it in a sphere. “How dare you liken me to the servants of an Archon? I am an Abyss Mage! W̱̻̥̙̗͔͝e̳̘̺͎͔͎͓ are the Abyss Order! We will de̤̹͉͕͖̩s̙͎̦͖̩̯̰͘t͈͈͍͈r̵̪͍͚̫o҉y̜͙̭̙͞ ͍̥͙͢th̕e̙̮̘͕̬̤͎͘ ̡͇r̦͞ul̗̮͉̪̠͘e of the Archons, and bring about a new world!”

“What are you doing in the Adepti’s Abode, if you want to destroy the Archons?” It seemed to like hearing itself talk, and as long as it was talking, it was not hurting you. For the first time, you were mildly glad that your life prior to Zhongli taught you this. 

“I suppose there is no h̠͉͝a̝̱̖r͖m̥̞ ̷͇̖̩i̼͉̝͠n̪͚̬͢ͅ ͍̪̹͎̝͍͉te̦͍̤̤̳̼̕l͓̝̣̹̗͢ḻ͝i͓͉̹̹͜n̘͎͔͚̟̩g͓̩̰ ͕͙y̴̭ͅo̤̞̞̬̞ͅu̯̫̪̺̦͓̖, you’ll be d̻̪e̖̦a͓͘d̹͕ soon enough,” it laughed again. “There is an object of power here, enough to be a God’s! If we can get our hands on it—“

Beside you, Xiangling had shakily gotten back on her feet, the usual fire in her eyes dulled. She looked so suddenly small that your heart broke. You would get her out of here if it killed you. “Do you think you can walk?” You whispered to her, and you were infinitely relieved to see her nod slightly. “I’m going to distract it. Go run and get help.”

To your surprise, it was the easiest decision you’d made in your life. Xiangling was hurt, and she could not fight. To leave her here would be to leave her to die. And so, it had to be you. Your mind suddenly clear, you reached into your bag and brandished the dragon’s tooth at the Abyss Mage. 

“This is a tooth of Rex Lapis himself,” you shouted, your voice only breaking twice. “How’s that for a powerful object, huh!?”

“R̂̋͜e̒̿̏̅͛̊̓xͭ̿͊͊͜ ̓̄ͭ̐ͥ̕L̂͂aͮ͊̐p̷iͬͣs͆̍̿͐͊ͯ̉͏—? No, you can’t fool me! The object we came for was not of a God a̖͜s̤ ̧̖̜̜p̯o͡w̪̫̮͈͈̣̖e̫̩rf̣̖̼̗̻̮u͕͇̻̘̹͢l҉̖̝̫̥ ͚̲̞̮̱͍͢ą͓͈s̪͔̩̜̼̥̥̕ ͚ͅthe Geo Archon.” 

“So, wouldn’t something from the Geo Archon himself be even better, dumbass?” You were slowly finding a strange calm, taking slow steps away from Xiangling, putting the Abyss Mage in between her and yourself. “Won’t your Prince be mad if he knows you passed up something that used to be part of an Archon, to find a minor God’s artifact?” You were taking liberties here, and you hoped with every fiber of your being that the creature was stupid enough to take the bait.

“T͠h̕͜e͡ ̨P͝r͝i͘̕n͘c͘e̕…” it seemed to shudder, the flame in its eyes glowing anew. “Give the tooth to me!”

“Come and get it!” You shrieked at an octave reminiscent of the Mage itself, and with all your might, began sprinting away from Xiangling — further up the mountain. You did not turn around to make sure that Xiangling was able to escape, or even to make sure that the Abyss Mage was following you. You simply ran, and ran, and prayed.

—-

The first time you paused for breath, the muscles in your legs aching, the Mage materialized in front of you once more. How foolish of you to think that you could outrun something that wielded the arcane. 

“Give me the dr̷̕͢a̢go̸n̨'͏̧s ͝҉t͜o̶͘o͝ţ̕͝h͟,” it demanded. “You dare defy me, human ?”  There was nothing but disgust in its voice, and you knew at once: Mage or not, it was the same as every man, every bully, every noble who had ever tormented you. It expected you to run. It expected you to beg, and grovel, and cry. 

It did not expect you to run towards it, screaming words you had only heard uttered between sailors at the harbor. 

And certainly, it did not expect you to drive the tooth, with all your might, straight into the ring of fiery energy around it. Where the tooth met flame, red crystals erupted amidst a kaleidoscope of sparks, covering you in a warm crimson glow. The Abyss Mage screeched, a terrible sound, as the shield around it cracked — then shattered with a hot, explosive force that threw you to the ground. 

When you picked yourself up again, your veins so full of adrenaline that you could hardly stand, the Abyss Mage was sitting in a dazed, crumpled heap on the ground.

With the last of your strength, you whipped your bag — all four books and two day’s worth of clothes packed tight — against the Mage’s head with so much force that the bag’s contents burst out of its seams and spilled onto the ground. Without another word, the creature fell to the ground. 

You weren’t sure if it was dead. You didn’t want to find out. Leaving everything on the ground, you turned around, and for the second time that night, you ran — and you prayed.

—-

At night, Mt. Hulao was a completely different beast. The mountain was pitch dark, the only sources of light the pale moon — and the faintly glowing, large chunks of… amber? that lined the mountainside. Sometimes, when the moonlight lined up just right, you swore that you could make out vague shapes within them. More than a dozen times, you lost track of the trail, and had to carefully backtrack until you could make out the dirt path amidst the grass. 

Then, it began to rain. 

Your clothes were warm, but they were not waterproof. Even as you tried to walk under the shelter of trees, you could feel the water soaking right through the silk and cloth, the mountain wind chilling you to your core. If you didn’t get warm soon, you doubted that you would survive even a few more hours.

A hint of panic was slowly crawling its way up your throat, but you were determined not to let it past your lips. All that mattered in the world was: finding Xiangling, then finding your way back to the harbor. You’d take any punishment from Zhongli, any amount of lectures or— physical retribution, if it meant that you could see his face, feel the warmth of home, once again.

In your pocket, the chunk of Cor Lapis sat snug and safe. It was a small blessing.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you did not notice the vines under you begin to shift. 

That is, until suddenly, your feet stopped moving. You went down with a yelp that dissolved into a scream as you landed badly on your wrist. Immediately, you tried to scramble back to your feet, but they were firmly stuck to the ground and coated in a viscous orange liquid that looked a lot like the massive amber chunks around the mountain. 

The shapes inside them—

To your horror, you found that you couldn’t move the wrist you fell on. With your good hand, you desperately clawed at the liquid and only succeeded in spreading it everywhere, and as it clung to your clothes and hair, beginning to harden. 

Against your throat, your necklace seemed to tighten. 

“You dared to trespass on the Land of the Adepti,” a tremendous voice thundered around you. “ And now, you will pay the price”.

For a brief moment, it was hilarious. Of all the damned times you had begged them for help, for escape from your hunger and fear and life — of all times, now the Adepti chose to take notice of you? The panic trickled through, leaving your lungs in a hysterical little laugh. The liquid had crawled its way up your thighs, and you knew that there was no use begging for your life. The Adepti did not care.

And so, you begged for Xiangling instead. “My friend is still on the mountain. Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” The amber had reached your chest, hardening rapidly against the cold night air. There was no answer.

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst,” you repeated. The amber had reached your shoulders. 

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” Your neck. 

“Please—“ 

—-

A memory:

It had been about six days since you had that bout of nightmares, since Zhongli sat by your side as you slept.

The morning after, you’d woken up feeling strangely full and content. You could vividly remember your last dream: Zhongli, sitting amidst dust and sunlight. 

The only indication of the previous night’s occurrences had been the wooden chair sitting by your bed.

You’d joined Zhongli for breakfast that day, expecting him to comment on your nightmares, and braced yourself for the uncomfortable conversation. 

“If you ever need someone to speak to,” was all he’d said instead, his gorgeous eyes unreadable as always, “remember that I am here.” 

—-

What a silly thing to suddenly remember.

Zhongli— what would he think of your disappearance? Would he go looking for you in Cuijie Slope? How long until he marked you down as a simple waste of his Mora and moved on with his life? 

Even if Xiangling made it back safely and told him about where you were… You were certain that this was the one time Zhongli would not be coming to your aid. He knew the dangers of Jueyun Karst, and he was nothing if not careful. 

How odd, to be so achingly sad in your last moments, when you were so lucky — lucky enough to know Zhongli’s gentle warmth during your short life.

As the amber closed over your eyes, your last thoughts were of Zhongli’s hands in yours.

[everestentertainments]

One of those “What You’re Favorite X Ship Says About You” videos but with FFXV here’s what I got

Chocobros/Polyship Roadtrip: You are a SUCKER for silly boys and bromances and the found family trope. You agree the game has problems but gosh these four boys LOVE each other and that’s all that matters. You will now think of the last campfire scene and cry. This game got to you.

Promptis: You like the “idiot boys in love” trope the fact that they’re high school friends is a wonderful bonus.

Gladnis: You like couples you think would make great parents together.

Promnis: You are a fan of “Oh My God the Serious One Fell For the Silly One.”

Ignoct: You like the “childhood friends to lovers” trope.

Promptio: You’re like, really into height differences.

Gladnoct: You’re all about that Bodyguard Dynamic.

Lunoct: Every day you scream into the void about how much better these two deserved, hoping one day SquareEnix will hear you.

Lunyx: You’re also into the bodyguard dynamic but mostly you just like a Luna ship where she, as an adult, got to interact with the other party for an extended period of time.

Luna/Gentiana: See above.

Luna/Cindy and Luna/Aranea: You either are a lesbian, love and support lesbians, and/or since you’re out here shipping all the boys together, why not do the same for the girls.

Cindy/Aranea: You want a girlfriend who could kick your ass.

Highspecs: At first you just wanted to see two really hot characters kiss but now you’re like....invested and you don’t know what to do about it.

Regis/Clarus/Cor/Cid/Weskham and any combination thereof: This is kind of the same joke as Chocobros as you are a sucker for bromances, but really it’s just your kind of couple angst comes from regrets and nostalgia. Also you like DILFS.

Any Ardyn ship: You either find Ardyn an incredibly fascinating character and use shipping to explore that, ship him with characters while being self-indulgent and living solidly in AU land, or you just really want to fuck Ardyn.

Sorry for any ships I missed but this is what I got.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Ten

From the ledge with the campsite, the path ahead is a ramp running up the face of the cliffside. It appears to be made of wood that has long-since rotted, but is able to still support their weight. Using the wooden ramps, they ascended the cliffside. While proceeding up the ramps, Gladio questioned the marshal. "How long has it been since you undertook the Trial? Thirty years or so?"

"Give or take. I was a lot younger than you are-and far less experienced. It's a wonder I even made it out alive," Cor said.

"This place look familiar to you?"

"Vaguely. The younger me had little mind for taking in the sights."

Before long, Gladio, (Y/n), and Cor reach additional wooden pathways, which they follow to a stone path along the cliffside. From there, they reach the entrance to another cavern within the cliff wall. However, the path was blocked by a flock of wyverns and a few bulettes. The marshal and War readied their weapons, leaping into battle.

The Horseman noticed the shield had yet to summon his greatsword and went to question him, but she watched in stunned silence as he walked over to a destroyed cement pillar and picked it up. She lowered her blade the moment Gladio swung the cement column at the bulette she was fighting against. She shook her head with a sigh. "Show off..."

"Heard that," Gladio chortled slightly, going after another cement column.

After disposing of the creatures, the trio proceed into the cavern. Not far into the cave, they came across another talisman and a wall similar to the one from earlier. Gladio recognized the layout. "Another trial chamber."

"And another chance for the warriors to impart their wisdom," Cor added. "It won't come easy, though-you'll have to earn it."

(Y/n) shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, I'm sure you can handle whatever's inside. Just make sure you come back in one piece."

"You worried about me, firecracker?" Gladio asked with a smug expression.

She folded her arms across her chest with a glower. "Just get your ass moving..."

Gladio knew it was still difficult for the Horseman to speak her true feelings and opted to drop the subject. He proceeds to the new trial chamber in the same manner as the previous one, leaving Cor and (Y/n) behind. The two watched the shield cross a stone bridge spanning the divide of the Taelpar Crag. Once taking a few steps onto the bridge, they noticed a fiery winged creature target him.

Cor watched closely as the enkidu targeted Gladio. (Y/n) did the same, but her attention was drawn away from the fight when they heard the voices of souls echo around them.

"How many moons has it been?" One soul asked.

"Since our last visitor? Far more than I can count," another soul replied.

"Let us see how our latest challenger will fare."

War's attention was drawn away from the fight when she sensed an all-too-familiar presence nearby. She looked around, trying to locate the only being that reeked of rotting flesh. She remained where she stood, knowing she couldn't enter the trial chamber until Gladio dealt with the enkidu. She didn't want to risk him losing his chance to obtain the power he desperately seeks.

Cor noticed her tense form and grave expression. Unlike her, he couldn't sense the dullahan's presence or smell the foul odor it emitted. "What seems to be the problem?"

"The dullahan..." She looked around the area. "It's nearby." Remaining where she was, she continued to search for the monster while Gladio fought his own battle.

Eventually, Gladio defeats the enkidu and proceeds across the bridge. He climbs through a fissure in the cliff wall to enter a stone chamber housing the next power shrine. Akin in design to the first, Gladio proceeds to acquire the power within the second shrine.

"Venture forth, Young Warrior, bearing our hopes and dreams," a soul said, addressing the brute. The shrine vanishes in the same fashion as the first, and the wall beyond it likewise splits and slides open as before. "Look ahead, for the Shield of the King must safeguard our future."

"Leave it to me," Gladio replied.

Cor and (Y/n) rejoin him and they proceed on ahead, battling more spirits dwelling in Taelpar Crag. During their fight, another soul spoke to the shield. "The skills shared by these souls have been passed down for generations. The Shield of the King would do well to put them to good use."

Moving forward, they reached a dead end. More souls appeared, standing against the trio. They struggled against the barrage of enemies, combining their attacks to take them down.

After defeating all the enemies in the room, an exit back to the cliffside is revealed as part of the wall splits and slides open. Before they continued down the path, Gladio glanced at the Horseman. "You're tenser than usual. What's the problem?"

(Y/n) was silent for a few seconds before answering. "The dullahan's somewhere in the area. I never expected it to be down here since no humans live here."

"Can you think of any other reason why it would be down here?" Cor questioned.

"I can think of a couple. One possibility is this is where it's hidden its head. The other is it wishes to harvest the power dwelling here."

"And how would it do that?" Gladio inquired.

"By consuming Gilgamesh."

"Impossible," the marshal denied.

"It may be, but that won't stop it from trying."

"And what if it succeeds?" The shield wondered.

"It'll be even more of a pain in the ass to defeat," she sighed. "Worst case, it will be my downfall."

"Then we better stop it before it reaches Gilgamesh."

The group makes their way down the path and step out onto a ledge within the gorge. Locating a wooden ramp leading around the cliffside, another soul speaks to Gladio. "Thousands set foot on these grounds, all of them fools unprepared for the dangers lurking within. They all meet with the same fate-as will you."

"I don't think so," Gladio retorts.

"Think what you may, but I know otherwise. The Lucis you call home is nothing like the Lucis I once served. Your age has forgotten the horrors of war, coddled by the king and drunk off the complacency of peace. No Shield worthy of defending the True King could be born from such depravity."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he remarked sarcastically.

"Look at the bright side: everyone loves an underdog," Cor said.

The trio proceed across the wooden path, then down another series of wooden ramps, eventually coming to a second stone bridge spanning the chasm. Several large creatures are on the bridge, one being a bandersnatch.

Gladio summoned his greatsword. "Aww. A warm welcome, just for me."

(Y/n) conjured her sword and set her sights on the bandersnatch. Gladio and Cor dealt with the other enemies before helping the Horseman. With their combined strengths, they were able to handle the immense beast.

With the bridge now clear, they could proceed forth. However, the redhead froze when the rancid odor of the dullahan was much stronger than before. The moment she turned around, she spotted the monster as it rode across the bridge. She quickly summoned her crimson-bladed sword, but she was shocked when it rode past her. It was targeting Gladio.

Acting quickly, she tossed her blade and warped, appearing right next to the shield. Using her entire body, she pushed him out of harm's way just as the dullahan used its whip. She swung her sword, deflecting it before it could wrap around her neck. While the dullahan retracted its whip, (Y/n) addresses her companions. "I'll keep it occupied. Go on ahead without me."

"No way in hell you're facing that thing by yourself," Gladio hissed. "Remember what happened last time?"

"I won't let this thing be the reason you fail the trials," she snapped back. "Get moving, Gladio."

Before the shield could retort, Cor spoke up. "Your fight is elsewhere, Gladio. Remember why you're here."

"I know why I'm here," he snarled.

"Then don't get sidetracked."

Just then, the dullahan charged toward Gladio a second time. It used its whip to try and decapitate him, but (Y/n) jumped in front of him. The whip impaled her in the abdomen, causing her to shriek out in pain. She grabbed the spine whip with gritted teeth and used all her strength to yank the monster off its horse. Unfortunately, her actions not only caused it to fall off its steed but also the bridge.

Because of the whip's sharp tip lodged through her gut, she was dragged off the bridge alongside the dullahan. She heard Gladio shout her name as she plummeted deeper into Taelpar Crag. She removed the whip from her abdomen, kicking the dullahan in the chest at the same time. Using her armiger, she attacked the monster and managed to pin it to the cliffside with numerous of swords and javelins. Using a few more weapons, she made sure it couldn't move a muscle. Knowing she couldn't kill it without its head, she could only keep it trapped for a short time.

Detecting the summoning orb in Gladio's possession, (Y/n) dispelled the armiger and teleported. The dullahan screeched out as her body vanished, its cry echoing throughout Taelpar Crag.

Teleporting to the campsite located at the Steps of Solace, the Horseman pressed a hand against her bleeding abdomen. Gladio rushes to her aid when noticing the blood seeping through her fingers. He offered her one of the potions he found earlier, but she pushed it away. "No, keep it. You might need it later."

"I can spare one," he said. Crushing the bottle, he watched as her body radiated with a pale green light. He looked down at her wound and saw it was healed. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine. Thanks," she stated.

Cor stood up and approached the two. "It seems you were right, War. The dullahan is after power."

"Not surprised. Since Gilgamesh is a more difficult target to deal with, its decided to go after Gladio," (Y/n) explained. "But I've managed to get it off our trail for a short while."

"If that's the case, we should get moving."

Gladio placed a hand on the girl's back. "You ready?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

From the campsite, Gladio, (Y/n), and Cor enter another cavern passageway within the cliff face. Deeper into the cavern, they heard the soul's voice again. "He who protects the king...must boast muscle and mettle, both finely tempered. Should he lack either, the Shield will shatter."

Shortly thereafter, the trio came to a wall upon which a demon-like entity manifests. Known as an inannaduru, it was accompanied by soul of fortitude enemies. Cor and (Y/n) focused their efforts on the smaller enemies while Gladio targeted the inannaduru.

Within minutes, all the adversaries were dead. Once the inannaduru is defeated, its body discorporated and the wall it had been bonded to shatters. "The penultimate trial awaits. Prove to them you're prepared to serve as the Shield of the Chosen King," Cor said.

Soon thereafter, the trio locate the next trial chamber. Gladio unseals the third trial chamber and enters. Like with the previous chambers, (Y/n) and Cor remained behind. The redhead crouched down, feeling slightly weak from the blood loss earlier. The marshal noticed her slightly pale complexion. "So that was the dullahan you mentioned. Never have I've seen such a creature."

"I would be more surprised if you had. Dullahans are only found in the Inner Sanctum. They're a pain in the ass to deal with. Luckily, only one escaped," she said. "Let's just hope Gladio finishes with these trials before it breaks free."

"You think Gladio couldn't handle the dullahan himself?"

"If he survives the encounter with Gilgamesh, I'm sure he could. But for now, I refuse to let any mortal face that monster even with me at their side."

Cor stared into her (e/c) eyes. "Now I understand."

Her brows knitted together. "You understand what?"

"It's not that you don't trust mortals. You don't trust yourself to protect them when in fact you have the power to do so. Why's that?"

She sorrowfully looked away. "I, myself, couldn't protect my own people. Truth be told, my hands are tainted with the blood of the innocent and I no longer trust myself to protect anyone. What right do I have to protect someone with my bloodied past?"

"You learn from the mistakes you made in the past. It's how one grows and changes. From what I can tell, you have changed which means you've learned from some of your mistakes. Keep that up and you'll be able to trust yourself once again."

She lifted her head. "Have you been talking to my sisters?"

"Not recently," Cor answered.

"I see..."

"Why do you ask?"

"Nothing in particular."

Once Gladio completed the third trial, Cor and (Y/n) rejoined him just in time to see the wall located behind the shrine split and slide open. "Nice work," Cor complimented. "Maybe you've got what it takes after all."

"Maybe, but it ain't for you or me to decide," Gladio responded.

"True-and the Blademaster is a more formidable foe than any you've faced thus far."

Venturing through the new opening, the group finds another campsite. (Y/n) held out her hand, igniting the wood that was located in the campfire. While Gladio and Cor rested, she ventured a little ways away from the campsite. Sniffing the air, she could no longer smell the dullahan's presence. She wondered if it had escaped, knowing it wouldn't be able to gain the power it seeks, or if it was waiting to ambush them later on.

After spending some time prowling the area, she returned to the campsite to see Gladio and Cor were ready to move on. They made their way down another series of wooden ramps and heard more souls talking to Gladio. "Come here to die, have you?"

"You looking to die again?" The shield sneered confidently.

"You amuse but do not impress. You lack his conviction," the soul said.

"Whose?"

"He who traversed these caves some thirty years ago. Turning a deaf ear to our wails and wishes, he proceeded unfazed, eyes ever forward. Yet he proved powerless before the general, cast out in defeat. If even he could not succeed, I see no hope for you."

"That guy must've left quite an impression...when he landed flat on his face," Cor said.

"Even the most graceful have small hiccups here and there," (Y/n) stated.

"Indeed, they do."

Making their way down to yet one more ledge, Gladio, War, and Cor soon find themselves at a sealed wall in the cliff face. Unlike previous trial chambers, this one is sealed with rock growth. The marshal stands before the wall and raises his katana. He unsheathes the blade slightly and the rock growth barring the entrance dissipates. Cor sheathes his katana once more and lowers the weapon. He speaks to Gladio without turning to look at him. "Clarus would've tried to stop you, you know-just like he tried to stop me all those years ago."

"How come?" He inquired.

"Because one aspiring to the role of King's Shield can stake his life for none but his liege-not even for himself." The marshal turns to face the brute. ""Do you dare risk all for naught in return?" His words stayed with me. And he was right: I barely made it back with nothing to show for it."

"So, you gonna stop me?"

Cor shook his head. "No, I won't. But I will warn you one last time of the danger you're about to face-just like your father warned me. Once you set foot through that door, there's no turning back-and no one to help you if you fall. One false step, and it may prove your last."

Gladio takes a couple of steps forward. "I'll be fine. Maybe I'll come back with a souvenir." He then turns towards (Y/n). "You're unusually quiet, firecracker. You worried about me?"

"I'm a pretty good actor, you know. Pay me a thousand gil and I'll pretend to be worried about you," she retorts with a grin. It then morphed into a gentle smile, which was a rare sight to behold. She strolled up to him and playfully punched his arm. "In all seriousness, I know you'll be fine. You made it this far. I know you can do this."

Gladio smiled back at her. He placed his hand on top of her head. "Y'know, you should smile more often. It really does make you a hundred more times beautiful."

War was taken aback at the compliment. Although caught off guard, she couldn't help but laugh. "You're seriously flirting at a time like this?"

"I call it "telling the truth," not flirting."

"Uh-huh, sure." The Horseman places her hand on his bare chest, providing him with one last healing incantation. "You've quite the adversary ahead. It'd be rude to keep him waiting."

"Thanks for the healing." Gladio removes his hand from her head. "Wait for me, (Y/n)."

"I'll be right here when you come back."

With one final smile, Gladio enters the chamber to face Gilgamesh. "Just come back alive. Be safe, Gladio," Cor said before the shield was gone.

Even when Gladio was out of sight, War kept her gaze focused in the direction he vanished. "He will, Marshal."

[varian-and-the-seven-skies]

Cor Meum | Chapter One: City of the Sun

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

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AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

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Chapter One: City of the Sun

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“Need a hand there, goggles?”

The voice, barely audible over the sound of welding and banging metal of the mechanic’s shop, draws Varian’s attention away from the chaos of the engine above him. With a beleaguered sigh he stares mournfully up at the greasy gears and other assorted guts of the machine. His eyes flick down to see a pair of black, perfectly polished leather boots waiting patiently near the edge of the suspended machine, and it takes more than a little willpower not to groan.

Varian grits his teeth. He does not have time for this. He only has until tomorrow to fix this stupid thing before the ship’s due to take off; he’s already been working on it for three days, and if he can’t get it running the Captain is going to flip.

The leather boots that Varian can see past the edge of the engine shift slightly, and Varian can feel more than see the light kick of someone else’s shoe against his own. The large silver buckles on the boots flash just enough to be annoying, and Varian makes a face. The voice drifts back down to where Varian has hidden himself under the engine, and it takes everything in him not to groan.

“Hey, can you hear me under there?” it says impatiently.

Varian plants his back a little more firmly on the rolling mechanic’s bed he’s lying on and pulls on the outer casing of the engine, rolling himself out from under the machine with a small grunt.

He slams his eyes shut against the sudden change in light, blinding even behind the protective lens of his goggles. When he opens them again he can see a tall figure leaning over him, blocking out most of the sunlight coming in from the skylights embedded in the iron ceiling of the shop. Varian cricks his neck, looking around in a last desperate attempt to ignore the person hovering over him.

The mechanic’s shop is certainly distracting enough, stuffed full of people just as grease-covered and irritated as Varian, all of them suffering together in the heat caused by welding and hard work. Made of thick stone and wrought iron, the large space offers room to spread out that you just didn’t get in airships, making it the best place for Varian to do his work with big projects like engine twelve’s sad, hollowed out corpse. Large windows dot the ceiling like stars, offering light and just the smallest hint of the blue skies above. The shop is, if anything, supposed to be a safe haven for the mechanically minded. People aren’t supposed to try and talk to each other, which is something Varian cherishes. Nothing worse than trying to piece together penny-sized cogs or a delicate engine part only to be interrupted by a nosey crewmate.

Which is why blondie being here is certainly quite the insubordination. Society has rules, damn it.  

Varian wipes his gloves clean off his apron before pushing his goggles up onto the top of his head, linking his fingers and stretching his arms out towards the ceiling. He lets his arms flop back down with a sigh, and finally locks eyes with the person above him.

Varian arches a brow, and the blond’s smile splits just a little wider.

“I’m sorry?” Varian asks, not exactly friendly. By the Maker, he really doesn’t have time for this.

“I asked if you needed a hand,” the blond replies, a glint in his green eyes. He’s tall, is Varian’s first impression, tall enough that he’s likely got at least a head of height on Varian if they were to stand shoulder to shoulder. Varian would say he’s muscular, but there’s the sneaking suspicion that it’s really more the black leather coat that makes the teen in front of him look that way. Varian has employed similar tactics in the past; he knows the tricks. Get a big coat with a large, pointed collar and massive cuffs and boom, suddenly you’re twice as intimidating as you were before. It's a good coat, though, if a bit heavy for Corona weather. Shining silver buttons line the length of the jacket, and it has deep pockets that Varian can only assume are full of fun little tricks from experience. The silver continues on the blond’s vest as well, a trim piece of green fabric with polished silver buttons and a faint embroidery.

Blond hair, chopped in a rough undercut, frames the other teen’s thin face in an annoyingly aesthetic kind of way, held back from his face by the wire frames of the other teen’s circular glasses. Green eyes meet Varian’s own, and the blond smirks at Varian’s blatant staring.

In all honesty, he almost looks out of place, dressed up just a little too much to be skulking around with the grease-monkeys Varian calls his contemporaries. If anything, the quick flash of a silver rapier on the blond’s belt cinches it. Whoever this teenager is, he’s either from money, or pretending to be from money, both of which are irritating in their own way.

Varian bites the inside of his cheek, trying to find a way to reply politely.

“No, thank you,” is what he spits out instead, grabbing at the engine and starting to pull himself back under it. The blond’s heavy boot slams down on top, the mechanic’s bed jerking to a halt, and Varian’s teeth click uncomfortably together at the force of it. The engine swings a little dangerously from where it’s suspended between two large chains, holding it high so the underside of it is easily accessible. Varian stops mid-yank and glares.

The boy just smiles, annoyingly unphased.

“Aw, c’mon, goggles,” the blond says with that same irritating smile, green eyes bright behind his round glasses. “Isn’t that a little heavy for a tiny thing like you? Don’t you want the extra help?”

Varian huffs in offense, already done with this conversation. The shop’s agonizingly hot, even with the windows thrown open. It’s loud, dirty, generally rather unpleasant with the stink of grease and sweat, and though it’s the best place to work in the dockyard it’s still chaotic at best. Varian only has another eighteen hours to figure out what the problem with this engine is before they’re due to take off from Corona again, and Varian knows it’s his ass on the line if the work doesn’t get done. He doesn’t have time for some uppity asshole to think he knows more than Varian and try to upstage everything.

“I have a name, you know,” Varian says, coldly, looking the guy dead in the eye.

“Can I know it?” The blond winks at him. He seems to think he’s making headway.

“Nope,” Varian replies with a peppy smile. There’s a moment of shock, and that’s all he needs to yank his mechanic’s bed out from under the blond’s black boot, disappearing back under the engine.

Finally. Back where he belongs, the annoyance avoided. Varian scratches at his face idly, bringing his googles back down over his eyes, setting his mind back onto his work. He peers up into the open panel at the bottom of the engine, noting the interweaving cogs that should in theory be working by now. After the bloody pirate attack a week ago, engine twelve, or specifically this part of it, had taken a hell of a beating. The Captain had pushed her too far again, causing something inside to rupture and spew parts across the engine room floor like a geyser, and in turn Varian has spent the last three days desperately trying to piece it back together. Something is still wrong with it, though, and it’s driving Varian insane trying to figure it out.

“Come on, darling,” Varian mutters to himself, taking a wrench to one of the bolts. “Talk to me.”  

He gets no answer. Instead a small plume of dust and grease spurts out of the machine onto Varian’s face, only just splattering onto his goggles instead of his skin. Lovely. He grits his teeth, reaching in to really give it a piece of his mind—

“It’s the bolt on the timing belt,” the blond pipes up from beyond the engine. “If you leave it as-is, it’s going to fall apart the minute you try to take off.”

…Oh. Varian looks up to the timing belt, tucked away neatly near the upper left side of the engine, and lo and behold, one of the bolts holding it in place is missing. Damnit. Varian peeks up through the engine, up to where the top panel’s been removed as well, and just catches a glint of green eyes peering down at him through the guts of the machine. There’s a minute of debate in him, how much does he value his pride? Enough to admit he was wrong to this irritating little—?

“Look, pipsqueak,” the blond says, his voice filtering through the cogs and gears. “I know machines. Just trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

Varian clenches his hand around the wrench, wondering how long he can go without committing murder. Maybe if he made it look like an accident…?

He rolls back out from under the engine again. The wheels make a protesting noise against the cobblestone floor. This time when he comes to a stop, he sits up properly, shoving his goggles back up to rest haphazardly on his forehead.

“Can I help you?” Varian finally spits. His ire only seems to encourage the blond, who grins.

“I mean, it seems like I’m helping you,” Green-eyes says, idly pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. How he’s dealing with the heat of the day in that giant coat Varian would never guess, but that’s besides the point. Varian rocks his weight a bit, thinking, the mechanic’s bed under him shifting with the movement. Decided, he finally pushes himself up to his feet, noting with irritation that the blond is, in fact, at least a foot taller. Scowl setting deep on his face, Varian turns away and kicks at the mechanic’s bed roughly, sending it rolling back under the engine for safekeeping.

There’s a chattering noise of gears and steam, and Varian feels a weight land on his shoulder. He only just adapts to the heavy weight of copper, steel, and brass, before he feels his first creation  clambering for his attention. Varian absently reaches up to pat at the metal body of his pet, scratching at a place between the exposed gears of Ruddiger’s ears that he knows the little automaton likes best. Ruddiger coos out a puff of steam, settling his weight onto Varian’s shoulders fully, the automaton having jumped from on top of the engine. Aperture eyes snap open and close with content, breaking the glowing green light of Ruddiger’s eyes for just a second as the raccoon-shaped automaton purrs.  

The blond lets out a little huff of a laugh when he sees Varian and Ruddiger together, green eyes flicking between them. He gestures to his eyes, biting his lip. “Look at that,” he says, grinning. “You’re twins!”

Sure enough, when Varian peers into the polished brass sides of the engine, he can see that his eyes are ringed with grime and soot, giving him a distinctly raccoon look. Varian scowls at his reflection, turning back around with an angry gesture of the wrench in his hand.

“If you weren’t right about the engine—” Varian begins to threaten, but the blond cuts him off.

“But I was,” he says with a smarmy smile. “Right, I mean.”

Varian can feel his eye twitch.

“You’re rightly annoying,” he grumps, crossing his arms. Ruddiger makes an offended puff of steam at the movement, digging mechanical hands into the shoulder of Varian’s shirt a little tighter. Varian grits his teeth a little as tiny claws dig into his skin through the thin fabric.  

The other boy holds his hands up in an innocent gesture, head cocking to the side. “I know what I’m doing, all right? Let me help fix the engine.” Green eyes glow with mirth as the boy looks down at the engine again. “Because, clearly, you seem to need it.”

Varian scowls, his hands clenching into fists, fingers digging into the leather of his gloves. The wrench in his hand is temptingly heavy, but Varian simply grits his teeth and ignores the plots for murder, taking a deep breath. Instead he reaches up and over the engine, using the wrench to try and tighten the bolt on the timing belt one last time. It creaks a little dangerously, but Varian knows it’ll hold. He designed it himself, after all.

Ruddiger keeps an eye on the blond behind Varian, making curious noises, a soft clicking sound that mixes well with the quiet ticking of his clockwork heart. Varian has to use two hands on the wrench to get the bolt tight, giving it a few violent tugs. The blond is watching him—Varian can feel eyes on the back of his neck—but Varian steadfastly ignores him, either out of focus or spite… or maybe both.

Work done, he finally turns back around to the blond, stepping forward with a threatening gesture of the wrench.

“Look,” Varian says, pointing the wrench an inch away from green eyes. “I don’t particularly care for your tone, so—”

“Varian!” a third voice calls, and Varian stills mid-rant. Both Varian and the irritating boy next to him turn, locking eyes with a young woman—a familiar woman. Her grin is a mile wide, bright as the sun and twice as warm. Her purple dress swirls around her ankles, cinched tight at the waist by a black corset, with billowing sleeves of white fabric. Her green eyes crinkle when she sees the two of them turn to her, scrunching up the spattering of freckles on her face and wrinkling her button nose. She’d look a proper lady, she certainly holds herself with the decorum expected of one, if not for the pixie cut she’d chopped her hair into. It’s stylish, with shorter sides and a longer top, nearly defying gravity in the way it fluffs up from her head into a windblown wave.

Varian notes, with quite a bit of amusement, that she’s holding onto a pair of flats in one hand. Barefoot again, then. Classic.

“Rapunzel,” Varian sighs, dropping the arm holding the wrench back down to his side. He can feel the embarrassment of being caught picking fights seizing him. He’s eighteen now, he really should know better, and Rapunzel is nothing if not determined to keep him on the straight and narrow.

“Who’s this?” Rapunzel says with interest, her eyes flicking between Varian and the other teenager. The taller boy seems to stiffen under her gaze, which is unsurprising. Rapunzel is notorious in these parts, and in the dockyard especially. Varian rubs at the back of his neck in the presence of his Captain, and can feel his cheeks burn red.

“He was just leaving—” Varian starts to say, turning away from her to glare at the blond, but Rapunzel cuts him off.

“Oh, did you make a friend?” she asks, coming closer and leaning on Varian’s shoulder. It’s infuriating the way she’s taller than he is, even after his growth spurt.

“Sure,” Varian says through grit teeth. “A friend. We’ll call him that.”

Rapunzel brightens at that, and Varian can already sense the trouble on the horizon. “And you are?”

The boy shrugs. “New.”

There’s a pause, but Rapunzel pushes forward. “Oh! How are you liking Corona, then?” she asks the blond, her grin a mile wide at the thought of Varian having friends. Varian’s not sure if he’s offended or not, really.

“Loving it,” the blond says. “The City of the Sun could never disappoint.”

Varian wants to roll his eyes, but Rapunzel leans further onto him, putting more of her weight onto his shoulder in a silent bid for him to behave himself. He goes along with it—she’s typically right in these sorts of situations.

“Glad to hear it,” Rapunzel grins. “What brings you to our fair city, anyways?”  

“I’m here looking for work, actually,” the blond says quickly. “Just got back from a contracted expedition to Vardaros, so now I’m on the hunt for another engineering job.”

Rapunzel’s face brightens, and Varian grows concerned. He knows that she’s been contemplating hiring extra hands for their next expedition, seeing how important it is, but there’s no way she would actually—

“Well, you’re in luck!” Her face splits into a wide smile. “We’re actually looking for a junior engineer, and any friend of Varian’s is a friend of ours. We’d be glad to have you aboard, if you’re willing.”

Varian’s face must do something funny, since Rapunzel’s full weight is near crushing him now. He tries to catch her eye, but she’s ignoring him with a grin. Rapunzel knows exactly what she’s doing and Varian can’t help but feel the slight pulse of irritation sink into his gut. She’s planning something, he thinks, glaring at her as she steadfastly ignores his gaze. Only the Maker knows what goes on in that woman’s head, honestly.

“Well, can’t say no to that,” Varian’s new most-hated-person says.

By the Maker, what did Varian do to deserve this? Has he really been such a terrible person to deserve this kind of treatment from the universe? Honestly, you’d think he was a horrible murderer in a past life for the kind of penance he’s paying in this one.

“Perfect!” Rapunzel crows with a clap of her hands. “Varian can show you how to get back to the Aphelion—right, Varian?”

“Yes, Captain.” Varian grunts, idly wondering if he could brain himself with the wrench in his hand in such a way that would guarantee he wouldn’t survive. Rapunzel doesn’t seem to mind, finally letting up on Varian and gently pushing away from him with one last squeeze of his shoulder.

“Alright, you two,” she says, winking to Varian as she leaves. “Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing— I’ll see you both back at the ship! Play nice!”

Varian can’t help but feel like he’s been played.  

If Varian had his way, he’d turn around and fire the blond here and now. Varian’s the head of the engineering section of the Aphelion— that’s got to count for something, right? In theory it should, but Varian knows that Rapunzel, as Captain, had final say in everything. If she wants to be a busy-body and force Varian to try and make friends, then by the Maker, it’s happening whether Varian likes it or not.

In this case? It is decidedly in the not category.

He turns to the blond, who looks back with a smug smile. Varian can feel his face scrunch up in distaste at it, and knows that the twitch in his eye is probably back with a vengeance. Ruddiger chirps with contentment on his shoulder, idly pawing at his hair in an attempt to calm his human down. It doesn’t work. Varian sighs, and finally sets the wrench down on a nearby table, jabbing a finger at the other teenager.

“I don’t like you,” is all he says. “But if Rapunzel says you’re in, then you’re in, I guess.”

That stupid fucking grin gets wider, and Varian wants to punch it.

“Who are you, then?” Varian asks, trying for more neutral territory. If they’re going to be stuck together for the next six months once the Aphelion takes flight, then he wants to at least try to work towards something non-hostile.

“Your new crewmate, obviously,” the blond shoots back, and Varian loses all sense of decorum at that point. There’s a beat of silence as Varian tries to reel his temper in, and another as he tries to relax his jaw enough to say something that won’t get him arrested.

“In that case, you should know that you’re speaking to your boss… mister junior engineer.”

The blond splutters, and Varian can’t help but give a little smirk of his own. Nothing better than reminding people of his position, the one he’d clawed for for years before Rapunzel finally gave in.

“Wait, what?” Varian’s new underling asks, going a shade paler.

“My name is Varian,” he says, the smirk growing larger and larger. He brings a hand up to the center of his chest, fingers splayed slightly. “Lead Engineer of the Aphelion, and your new boss. So, tell me, glasses.” Oh, this was so much fun. “Who are you?”

Green-eyes seems to know when he’s dug himself a hole he can’t climb out of, and for the first time there’s something other than an irritating smirk on his face. If anything, Varian would say he looks annoyed. The thought of finally managing to wipe that smirk off the blond’s face is delicious, and it does wonders for Varian’s mood. Varian sticks a hand out, much like Rapunzel had, and while the blond glares at it, he still takes Varian’s smaller hand in his own.

“Hugo,” the blond grits out, holding Varian’s hand maybe just a little too tight. It’s still worth it to see this boy squirmthough.

Varian waits, but the older boy—Hugo—says nothing else, and after a moment Varian draws his hand away. “Good talk.” That’s that, he supposes.

A pause, and then Varian shrugs and moves away, looking back to the engine. Screws in place, broken pipe replaced, timing belt bolted... it’s about as fixed as it can get. Varian reaches up and slams the top back down with a loud clang. Hugo jumps. Varian grins, and kneels down to lock the top back into place.

Ruddiger chitters in his ear, scolding; Varian shakes him off and straightens back to his feet, peeling off his gloves and shoving one hand back through his hair. Ugh, city sweat and oil. He can taste it. “Well,” Varian says, resigned. “Might as well make yourself useful, I guess. Help me push this back to the dockyard.” Hugo opens his mouth but Varian cuts him off. “And if I hear one more comment about my physical prowess—!” He pats the wrench twice with a sweet smile, the threat more than obvious.

Hugo closes his mouth. He’s grinning. By the Maker, even when he’s quiet, Varian can practically hear what Hugo wants to say anyway. This is already a disaster; what the hell is Rapunzel thinking?

He has a sudden and vivid flashback to her winking at him, and shudders without knowing why.

Ruddiger coos at him with a puff of steam. Varian tugs at Ruddiger’s ear in return, annoyed with the chiding—he knows how to play nice, thanks, why does no one have any faith in him?—and then walks to the shopkeeper, thus far ignored in the back of the workroom. “How much for the parts?”

He pays for the replacements and manages to haggle for a cart, and in a few minutes’ time he and Hugo have winched the engine down and rigged it up for transport. Varian braces himself against the cart handle and sighs. “Westside dock,” he tells Hugo, squinting sadly at the streets through the large double doors of the shop. It’s market day. The crowds are crazy. This is going to suck. “Pier 48.”

“You sure you know the way, goggles?”

“It’s ‘boss,’ actually,” Varian replies sweetly, and grins with all his teeth at the way Hugo winces. Hah. Varian could get used to this.

They exit the repair shop to a faceful of steam, and Varian coughs hard, waving the smoke from his face as he and Hugo shove their way into the crowd, the cart rattling loudly on the uneven cobble. Corona at midday is as bustling as ever, the city life in full swing. Whole families wander the streets as merchant carts and stores push out their wares; steam-powered bikes rocket past, their riders laughing high and bright. In the distance, Varian can hear the ever-present screech of the train whistles, the trails of steam drifting up from the stations. Above them, the sunlight warps and twists, broken apart by the furious rattle of passing trains and the railroad looping high above their heads in arches and spindly bridges.

Varian squints against the light and shades his face, elbowing Hugo hard to get his attention. The other boy looks almost lost in thought, staring up—his eyes tracking the trains as they pass, looking almost blinded by the sheer gleam of the city in motion. “We’re heading right,” Varian explains, raising his voice above the din, and waves his pocket watch at Hugo’s face, tapping the compass in the upper corner. “Come on.”

Hugo pulls his gaze away and follows, and together they push the cart through the streets, slowly but surely carving a path for the dockyard. When they finally break through the main crowd, Varian pushes them toward the side-streets, shadowy and empty and safe from wandering feet. If they hurry, he thinks, they might make it to the dockyard before the heat really sets in. He gives Ruddiger one last absent pat and starts to pick up the pace.

Hugo is slowing, though, trailing behind, and then for a brief moment he stops completely, hand slipping away from the cart. Varian yanks the cart to a stop, glancing back, ready to give the other a piece of his mind—but then he sees Hugo’s face. Varian follows his gaze, and closes his mouth. He understands now: in the break between the buildings he can see the whole upper half of Corona, the spires of the Sun’s temple and the curving arches of the bridges rising high over the city, shining bright and glossy in the sunlight. It’s designed to look like the sun crest, if seen from directly above—a tourist favorite.

“First time in the city?” Varian wonders, and when Hugo eyes him, just shrugs, Ruddiger chattering loudly on his shoulder. “You’re staring.”

“It’s bright,” Hugo says, dryly.

“And that would be why it’s called the city of the Sun.” Varian blows out a hard breath, trying to get sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. He plants his hands on the cart rail and starts pushing again. A moment’s pause, and then Hugo joins him. “But no, seriously, who are you? You’re already hired or whatever—” Damn Rapunzel for that, now Varian has to deal with this jerk for six months, “—but why are you even here?”

“Luck,” Hugo says, which is such an obvious lie Varian outright rolls his eyes at him. “Money. Look, goggles, I came here for a fresh start, so—” He gestures. “Let’s just not do the whole interrogation thing and say we did, okay?”

Varian presses his lips together, but lets it drop. As irritating as Hugo is—well. Varian understands fresh starts. And the money issue. If it was someone prying into his reasons, then…

“Fine, fine.” Varian says, and turns his head away, only just catching the way Hugo startles from the corner of his eye. He almost looks surprised, Varian thinks, but when he glances back again Hugo just looks as smug as ever, not even out of breath from pushing the cart. His hair is even still slicked perfectly back.  

Maybe his imagination? Well, whatever; Varian hates it either way.

It’s not far to the docks, and Varian knows the path like the back of his hand; by the time the midday heat really starts sinking in (and Hugo, in that stupid leather coat, is noticeably starting to sweat—hah, serves him right), they’ve reached the edge of the city. It’s quieter here, the rumble of the crowd replaced with distant whistles and rhythmic banging, the symphony of a dockyard hard at work.

Varian heaves the cart to a rolling stop by the stairs, waving at Hugo to step back, and cups a hand around his mouth. “Xavier!” he shouts down at the shipyard, pitching his voice high. Ruddiger props up on his head and yawns, puffing steam like a smoke signal. “Send Cass up here, would you? I’ve got that engine part fixed!”

“Oh, wonderful!” Xavier waves back. “I’ll send her up— we’ll get it reinstalled right away! Grab Yong for me?”

“Where is he?”

“On the ship!”

“Got it!” Ruddiger crawls from his shoulder down into his arms; Varian cradles the racoon close—ouch, hot metal—and finally looks back to Hugo, humming. “Well, come on then.”

“Yong?” Hugo wonders aloud, as Varian makes his way for the ship. It’s in Pier 48 now, the main dock for repair work, which makes this a longer walk than usual. Damn pirates, punching holes in their ship— who did this Donella think she was? For someone with such a fearsome reputation, they’d gotten away pretty light…

“Xavier’s assistant,” Varian explains, clutching Ruddiger to his chest and hopping down the stairs two at a time. He hears a snicker, and whips around to glare. Hugo looks away, one hand covering his mouth. Varian narrows his eyes. “Xavier was that man down there, he runs the engines, and— would you stop laughing?”

“Sorry,” Hugo says, with a grin that says he isn’t sorry at all. “You were saying?”

“Okay, I’m not doing this.” Varian spins on his heel, ignoring him. “Come on, it’s just around the corner. She’s a little... battered right now, some hull damage, but we’re set to leave tomorrow— and I mean tomorrow— time is money with this next shipment, understand?”

Hugo smiles, leaning closer to Varian. “What’s so special about it?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “Is it expensive?”

Expensive, one of a kind, irreplaceable—there’s a lot of words Varian could use for it. If the Aphelion’s last cargo had been valuable, this next shipment is near-priceless. “That’s on a need-to-know basis—” Varian says tartly, “—and until we’re in the air, you don’t need to know. Now, will you be ready?”

Hugo shrugs. “I’m ready to go now.”

Varian blinks at that, looking Hugo up and down. Even Ruddiger lifts his head from his nap to sniff a disbelieving puff of steam. No luggage, just the clothes on his back and the sword on his hip. “Um… you sure?”

Hugo’s smirk widens. “Aw. Worried for me, goggles?”

Ha-ha, nevermind. Varian pivots back around. “Nope.” He is not allowed to punch his new assistant. He is not allowed to punch his assistant. Rapunzel would be disappointed. There would be lectures. She would make charts. Not worth it. “Now, where is that ship—”

He ducks around the corner, stepping out of the way of horse and cart, and then, like the sun splitting the clouds: there she is.

Varian trails to a stop, annoyance already forgotten. He turns, for once wanting to see Hugo’s full reaction. If Hugo had blinked twice at the city, then… “Here we are,” Varian says, grinning now, pride bubbling warm in his chest.  “The Aphelion!”

Hugo looks, mouth opening, and Varian can just see the rude comment he’s about to make—and then Varian really doesgrin, wide and bright and smug smug smug, because he can also see the moment Hugo loses all his words entirely.

Varian has always loved Corona, despite everything—the spiny skyline, the arching bridges, the whistling steam and winding roads curling up to the temple like a conch shell. Varian has lived in this air and breathed this city for all his life, and he loves it with all he is— but of all the places in the city, the dockyards, and the ships they harbor, are where his heart truly lies.

If the city is bright, then the dockyards are blinding. They sit on the very edge of the city limits, the cliff-face drop of the flying city. The copper paneling that makes up the dockyard decks has turned near solid-gold in the sunlight, and beyond that edge the whole world falls at their feet. Miles upon miles of dotted green farmland, blocks of gleaming metal towns, curving roads like man-made rivers. The horizon burns gold and blue, the distant silhouette of other flying cities dotting the landscape, poking out from distant clouds. None of the cities fly as high as Corona, of course—the cities of the Sun and Moon are meant to float above all the rest—but it still makes for quite the view. With other airships hanging in the sky, colorful backdrops against the full white clouds, the dockyards are most certainly a sight to behold.  

But the jewel, Varian thinks with a smile, is his ship—Rapunzel’s ship—their home.

The Aphelion.  

She’s a work of art, Varian knows, and she looks it, too. Aphelion is a whole three hundred feet of dark wood and solid brass, long and sleek and sharp as any blade. Her half-moon windows are stained glass and shining; decorative copper and silver wires wind down her front and all across her sides like trailing vines, or maybe wings, or maybe the unfurling edges of the sun. She’s got four sails and an envelope made of the best weave, the cloth of the balloon so thick it’s near impossible to cut, set to hold them afloat for nearly two decades even if the engines and the fires both die. A heavy copper turbine sits at her back; the sails, flapping loose in the breeze, are decorated in off-hand embroidery. She’s golden and shining in the sunlight—and it’s right, that Hugo goes dead silent at the sight of her, and Varian can’t help but grin. Because anyone who stops and stares at the Aphelion, anyone who goes breathless at their first glance… well, as annoying as Hugo is, he can’t be too bad, then. Not if he sees the Aphelion for the treasure she is.

She hadn’t always been this way, of course; she’d been a broken thing once, before Rapunzel found the shattered shell of a ship and coaxed life back into her. It’s Rapunzel’s way, after all, to find broken and trapped and hiding things, and bring them out to the light—but Rapunzel had asked Lance to do the tarp weave, and Varian had built the metalwork, and in the end, it was all of them, together, that brought the Aphelion to the skies, blinding and beautiful and larger than life.

Varian steps away and sets Ruddiger down on the cobble, still grinning wide and pleased at Hugo’s shock, and waves up to the small figures settled around on the Aphelion’s balcony. Rapunzel—standing at the helm with Eugene, Nuru, and Yong—looks over, and she leans over the railing to wave back. Her eyes draw to Hugo next, and even from this distance, Varian can see her smile.

Varian turns back to Hugo, radiating smugness. “Well?”

Hugo blinks fast and shakes his head. “Well,” he echoes. He shakes his head again, and then he gives a little laugh. “Well.”

“What do you think?” Varian presses, intent. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” And maybe Hugo catches something in that, maybe he can tell Varian really and truly wants an answer, because he looks at Varian, eye to eye, and then— he smiles.

Months later, this memory will stand out to Varian. Years later, Varian will look back on this day in the sun and finally recognize the moment for what it was. A beginning. And an end.

Their only warning.

It’s bright, the smile Hugo gives him. It’s blinding. But for some reason, something about it makes Varian falter. A chill runs down his spine. His mouth goes dry. Because there is something in that smile—in the curve of it, the sharpness of teeth—something about the way it creases at Hugo’s eyes. It unnerves him. It unsettles him. There is something about it that doesn’t sit quite right, and if Varian had known better, then, perhaps he could have read the smile for what it was.

But instead Varian looks away, feeling cold and not sure why, telling himself it is just the wind—and beside him, Hugo, his eyes fixed back on the ship—

Hugo smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “She’s perfect.”

[anewbeginningagain]

Earlier anon re conflicts of interest. To be clear, I wasn’t raising the issue to go after Tessa specifically. I do have a serious problem with Carol Lane, though, and wish there were another way. As you noted, Tessa’s conflicts are smaller than those of many others who do regular commentary (and also include commentating on Scott’s teams!). I do think there is some difference between people who might be conflicted because they skate in shows together or are friends/enemies/etc. and those who are actively part of the coaching teams which Tessa seems to be for F/G in a B2Ten-lite sort of way.

To her credit, Meagan has carved out a lane that is honest about her own personal connections while still being objective. Tessa has a *lot* less baggage than MD, so I’m hopeful that she can do the same. Though I agree that she may not be the most illuminating commentator because she will be diplomatic to a fault.

On a tangentially related note, while I don’t think what happens at the CBC booth at Skate Canada will at all affect where the Disco Brits end up, I’m curious (and skeptical) about how they are being promoted for the next quad. They’ve got a lot of style but for me the substance is lacking.

I know you weren't going after Tessa specifically anon, I just used your ask to show that there isn't really anyone without conflict of interests that can do commentary. I also don't have that big of a problem with Carol Lane, for the most part she was fair when I listened to her, I only remember her once throwing serious shade at CoR for boosting a Russian team at the expanse of G/P (which at the time was kind of accurate even if it was best to keep it off the broadcast).

Meagan is good and objective but also makes it a little personal with anecdotes which I find ok most of the time. I think with Tessa she just doesn't like to be the one to criticize, perhaps because she's been burned by shitty commentary in the past (not necessarily on TV) that she keeps her own commentary positive to a fault. But I still prefer her positivity over KW basically delusional at times commentary about teams aiming for the Olympics when they are clearly not.

As for Disco Brits, they are on the rise. I wonder how close (if at all) it will be between them and Smart/Diaz, that will be telling. I also wonder how the last group of FDs will work, as I was telling @macaroni-rascal yesterday, it's an interesting case of two crowd-favorites FDs with Smart/Diaz's Zorro and Disco Brits' Lion King, followed by two introvert and lowkey FDs from the Italians and Gillies/Poirier. If both Smart/Diaz and Disco Brits manage to create moments that the crowd will really go with, it might suck the energy out of the rink in time for the mellow FDs.

[jennibeultimate]

Kinda personal recap Cup of Russia 2020 - Free skate

This is going to be super long 🙈

Men

So actually of the first group I only liked Vladimir Litvintsev. Surely there are lots of things to improve, but I like his elegance and movement. The struggle in the steps and the faces coaches was really funny though 😂. (Imo he was definitely much better performing even with mistakes than Yablokov...)

And two times Notre Dame de Paris in one group...there are a lot of musicals, why always chose the same? While Evgeni Semenenko was much better into the performance than Yablokov...(but someone tell skaters that a costume change doesn't make a good performance)

Andrei Mozalev - the program is weird, but I think he works well with it. The popped 4F was unfortunate, but he recovered really well. He can do better than here, but he is young and he has the abilities to make it far. 😊

Dmitri Aliev - You see he is not a youngster anymore, he has much more presence than the skaters before him. His performance was good, but I think in the 2nd half needs more commitment to moves and music. But overall after the injury and recovery a good effort! He pulled through and made no major mistakes. I was surprised that they actually did downplay him a bit in the TES, rightfully so, but still I thought being European Champ would help here.

Makar Ignatov - where is the emotion for such a piece of music? Not found. (and I wouldn't be sad to not see "Je suis malade" used ever again and no dear commentator the music is emotional, but the skater didn't show much of it...bruh) I mean his jumps are fine. The 4Loop is impressive indeed. But he is extremely slow on the ice and there is not much happening neither with legs nor arms between the elements.

Mikhail Kolyada - I love love love this program! ❤️ He is a league on his own! His skating is of such different quality than the rest! Just really what does need to happen for him to skate clean? He still managed fine TES with the quality, but it wouldn't be enough in a top skaters field, where he belongs to, but with those mistakes it's hard to get in the top. (and I wouldn't say anything about it, if it would only have been today, but this is the problem throughout his career. He is fabulous but never flawless) I am really glad Misha is back! Love him a lot, just skating gods give him more consistency please! 🙏

Petr Gumenik - and another often used musical 😅 (I love POTO just in skating I would gladly like skaters to stop using it for like 10 years 😬) Music choice aside Petr is a wonderful skater with some unique spins and is lovely to watch! And don't get me wrong, it's still a nice program (and costume) and he fought very good.

Moris Kvitelashvili - I think I've never seen him better. (I think this is also not a bad program by Daniil, no weird music cuts, no weird no meaning movements, that is as low my expectations for good are 😅) He could work more with the music for sure, but anyway good effort. And 2nd place for Moris is also good! Congrats!

Congrats to Misha for winning 🥇 🎉🎉🎉 Totally happy with the result!

I really have to say (apart from the first two skaters) there wasn't a lot of mistakes in the performances, really a superb competition for the men! It was really fun watching! 😊

Pairs

Panfilova/Rylov - this program is so beautiful 😍 Throw the single jumps out 😅 then they could be a force for any medal...love this pair!

Boikova/Kozlovskii - this was a phenomenal skate. ❤️ Such a different level of confidence than the rest of the competition. This program suits them so well!

Mishina/Galiamov - I like them a lot. Today they made a mistake, so 2nd place is fine. 😊 Contrary to Boikova/Kozlovskii there free skate is not as good as the short. I don't know how many times today we heard Queen as program or in the background. I like Queen but there are so many musics, why always the same???

It's a bit sad that Tarasova/Morozov and Khodykin/Pavliucheko weren't here, this way the level and ppl on the podium were rather predictable.

Congrats to the medalist! 🎉

Ladies

I just love love love Eva-Lotta Kibus! ❤️ A natural performer (ofc in the first half a bit concentrated on jumps)a breath of fresh air in this Russian field, solid jumps, she smiles, love the dress too, lots lots to admire! 😍

Viktoriia Safonova - She is a good skater no question. But I question the music choice of Bolero being good for her. The program felt super long. Bolero is a difficult music, it's repetitive and while it builds musically it's extremely difficult to maintain the building up through a program with so many elements. The only Bolero program in singles for me that ever worked was by Carolina Kostner. Everyone else just is overpowered by the music.

Sofia Samodurova - Oh Sofia 😔 She was lost somewhere...nothing really worked for her today. And I don't understand her programs this season. (at least it's original 😅) She is a great performer but this music cut and everything about it is weird and if it's not performed well, it's just...well

Alexandra Trusova - she has a new costume and what kind of costume change was that? And sorry to say that, but this was just really bad. I admire her guts, but this is not it, it's no performance, nothing that skating stands for and I am glad she didn't place before Guliakova.

Liza Tuktamysheva - A good performance. I am happy for Liza, for all the fights she had. Not sure I like the program but I mean it's original and suits her. I will never understand her jump layout. Even with 3A her TES isn't as high and that's not solely on GOEs but on BV.

Alena Kostornaia - What a lovely skate!🥰 It's a pretty program, I just think it's not as special as ppl made it sound like. Seems a bit like SLB ran out of special ideas. I was pleasantly surprised she didn't win and also that her PCS were only 73...👀 (is it now because being under Plushenko does not give you same treatment or because panel was stricter? 🤔)

Congrats Liza for winning CoR! You did well! 🎉👏

Overall the ladies were quite underwhelming. I never thought I'd see the day, the Russian men would have better skates than the ladies! 👀

What could have been if Zhenya would have been healthy? Skates like at last CoR would have been enough to win I think 🤔 Anyway she wasn't here, but I missed her.

Just saying it's not like COVID-19 seems to be taken seriously at CoR at all, but I don't think it's a problem only by the organization of this competition but seems to be the general handling of Covid in Russia. Those measures do look very half-heartedly and fake. But I try to look at the bright side of the competition happening: it's skating with lots of talented skaters. Let me enjoy things for the time being, the world is dark anyway atm. (But still it's really damn hard to overlook and the ignorance on the pandemic is mind boggling)

Adding: I am really torn on this topic and now that it's over and I look over my selfish take to just enjoy it in the moment, I really don't know anymore what to think of it, other than I had a much better feeling after SkAm and CoC than I do have here...

Sorry for this being super long, so thanks for reading! 😅 Leave a comment or like if you want to, I would be very happy. Let's talk figure skating!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; Haunted Dark Bridal - Kanato After Story

–> You will unlock this after completing Kanato’s Vampire Ending

*Thump*

???: ...Hey...

...I...Right here... 

Hey...

ー The scene starts in the bedroom of the Sakamaki castle

Yui: ...Ah.

...It’s raining today, huh?

( Aah, come to think of it... )

( How long has it been since I started living with Kanato in this castle...? )

( I don’t know...Oh well, it doesn’t matter. )

( No, but... )

*Thump*

Yui: ...

Kanato: ...Hey.

Yui: Ah...Kanato...?

Kanato: Yui, you were gazing out of the window again, huh?

You’ve been doing this regularly as of late.

...Even though I’ve been calling out for you this whole time.

Is there something so interesting out there? 

Yui: I’m sorry...I must have spaced out.

Kanato: What were you thinking about?

Don’t tell me...Something other than me?

Yui: No!

I was just thinking how it’s been a while since we started living here.

Kanato: I see, then it’s fine.

This castle is filled with memories of the two of us...

I can feel you wherever I go. Don’t you feel the same?

Yui: Yes. Of course.

Kanato: Fufu, I see. I’m glad.

Yui: ...It’s just...

Kanato: ...Just?

Yui: ( If I tell him that I feel as if there was someone else around, Kanato will definitely get mad, right? )

No, it’s nothing after all.

Kanato: Nothing? It doesn’t sound like that though?

...Aah, could it be.

Yui, are you hiding something from me?

Yui: N-no way!

Kanato: Then what is it? What’s the meaning of this?

What’s your problem!?

Yui: ...!

Kanato: I can’t forgive you for gazing out of the window like that...

Say, there is something, right? Why won’t you tell me?

I’ll never forgive you for keeping secrets from me!

Yui: I-I’m sorry!

( He’s right. This is definitely as if I’m keeping something hidden from him. )

( I’ll try and talk to him. )

You see, it isn’t anything serious but...Will you listen either way?

Kanato: Of course, Yui.

Please, don’t upset me any further. You’ll properly talk to me, right?

Yui: Yeah.

You know, Kanato. When I gaze out of the window, my heart becomes uneasy...

Kanato: Hm...And?

Yui: Yes, afterwards...I can’t put it into words very well but...I feel as if there was someone else here besides the two of us.

Kanato: Someone you say...

Yui: Fufu, it’s odd, isn’t it? Even though there shouldn’t be anyone here but us.

Kanato: ...Fufu. Ahahaha!

Yui: K-Kanato?

Kanato: I’m sorry. But...Fufu...!

You suddenly said something so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

...It seems like you really are just exhausted.

Take a look, there’s nobody here but me and you.

Exactly...In your world, there’s just me. Right?

Say, I’m right, aren’t I?

Yui: Yes.

Kanato: So you do understand.

In that case...Don’t you dare think about someone else ever again!

I don’t want to hear those kind of words from your mouth...!!

Yui: S-Sorry!

Kanato: Haah...Haah...As long as you understand...

You are just tired. Let’s get some rest?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

ー Kanato joins her in bed

Yui: ( Aah, why do I end up having these thoughts? )

( ...I’m sorry, Kanato )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...Haah.

( ...Just when I thought I had finally fallen asleep, I woke up again. )

( I’ll quietly close my eyes so I won’t wake up Kanato... )

ー The screen fades to black

*Thump*

Yui: Nn...

???: ...Hey...There?

Yui: ( W-Who...? )

???: ...Me. It’s me...Cordelia.

Cordelia: My voice finally reached you...

Yui: ( Cor...delia? )

Cordelia: Exactly. ...It’s been a while. I wonder when was the last time I got to talk with someone like this? 

Fufu...Hey, more importantly.

...Don’t you think it’s strange? Your current situation.

Yui: ( Eh...? )

Cordelia: Don’t you have a vague suspicion as well? That there’s a distortion...In your own memories. 

Yui: ( ...! )

( That’s... )

ー A flashback ensues

Yui: Hey, there’s so many empty rooms, don’t you think it’s a waste?

Kanato: Please don’t let that bother you. We can just use them to our heart’s content amongst the two of us.

What would work? Hey, what do you want to do with them?

How about we act on a whim and fill an entire room with sweets? 

Yui: Wah! That sounds fun!

Kanato: We can line them all up and eat them as we please.

Then afterwards, I’ll suck your blood...

Yui: Yes...Fufu, which kind of sweets should I make for you next?

Come to think of it, Kanato, when did you start playing an instrument?

Kanato: Instrument...?

Yui: Yes. I found a violin in one of the spare rooms. It’s yours, right?

Kanato: ...I suppose so.

Yui: I knew it! Will you let me listen sometime?

Kanato: Yeah, of course. Aah, but only when I feel like it, okay?

Yui: Hooray! I’m looking forward to it!

Kanato: ...Ugh.

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( ...No, stop... )

Cordelia: Remember!

Yui: ( No...!! )

Cordelia: ...Hm...You are rather stubborn. But are things really fine this way?

You’re being deceived by Kanato, you know?

Yui: ( Deceived...? )

( ...No, that can’t be. Kanato is my everything. )

( Everything Kanato says is right... )

Cordelia: I see...Then you should just ask him directly!

Yui: ( Shut up! Get out of me! Kanato is all I need... )

Cordelia: Kanato is all you need?

Oh my, then which other people do you not need? 

Come on, remember!

Yui: Stop!!

ー Yui wakes up

Yui: Haah...Haah...

( What was that? Just now... )

Kanato: Nn...

What’s the matter, Yui?

Yui: Ah, I’m sorry...I woke you up...

Kanato: I don’t mind though...But somehow you seemed to be in a lot of pain just now.

Yui: Ah, no. It’s nothing. I just saw a bit of a strange dream. It’s okay though.

Kanato: ...I see.

You’re drenched in sweat...It must have been terrifying.

Anyone who makes you suffer - whether inside a dream or not - I can’t forgive them. 

Yui: Kanato, thank you.

Kanato: It’s only natural for me to worry about you. 

Come on, scoot over.

Let’s move closer and closer to each other...

ー Kanato embraces her

Kanato: It must have been scary, huh? But you’re okay now. There there...

Aah...If only I could slip inside of your dreams.

If I was able to do that, I could protect you from those trying to make you suffer. 

I could be by your side even inside your dreams.

Yui: Kanato...

Kanato: Please listen to me without laughing.

...I’m serious.

That’s just how precious you really are to me.

I’m holding you dear in my own way after all...

Yui: Kanato...

( ...There’s just no way Kanato has been deceiving me. It has to be a lie... )

( It’s a lie, right...? )

*TIMESKIP*

ー Kanato enters the room

Yui: Ah...Kanato, welcome back.

Kanato: I’ve returned, Yui.

...What’s wrong? You’re spacing out again.

Yui: ...Uhm, you see...There’s something I want to ask you.

Kanato: Something you want to ask me?

...What is it? Come on, tell me quickly.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

I mentioned it before too, right? This ‘someone’ who is here besides the two of us...

Kanato: ...What? That same story again?

Yui: Ah, no! I’ve been trying not to think about it but...

But you know, the more I do that, the more I can’t help but get bothered by it...

That’s why I want you to remind me that this isn’t the case once more...

Kanato: ...

Yui: ...Kanato...?

Kanato: Even though...already told...

Yui: Ah...

Kanato: Even though I already told you a million times!

Don’t think about anything but me!!

Why...Time after time... (1)

Didn’t I tell you not to talk about this ever again!?

Yui: Kanato...

Kanato: You promised as well, didn’t you...!?

Why won’t you listen to me!? You should only have me, and I’ll only have you...

That’s all there is to this world...Shouldn’t that be enough!?

Am I wrong!?

*CRASH*

Kanato: You...! Are you trying to say that I don’t matter!?

Yui: O-Of course not...Kanato!

Kanato: I need you this much...Yet you...!

You...!!

Yui: Kanato! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. I won’t speak of it ever again...!

( But why does Kanato get so upset when I speak of the past... )

( Because he doesn’t like that I show interest in something besides him? )

( Or maybe... )

*Thump*

Yui: ( Ah...!? )

Nn...!

Kanato: ...Yui? What’s wrong?

Yui: ( I-It hurts...!! )

Kanato: Are you in pain? Hey, answer me!

Yui!

*Thump*

Yui: ( It’s no use, my body... )

ー Cordelia takes over Yui’s body

???: ...Fufu...

Yui: ( ...Who laughed just now? )

( Against my own will...My body is acting on its own...! )

( Don’t tell me... )

Kanato: Hey, are you okay? You suddenly started groaning.

...? What’s the matter, Yui?

???: ...Oh dear, Kanato, you can’t tell it’s me?

Kanato: ...!

???: Come on, it’s me, me...

Kanato: Eh...? ...But...That can’t...

???: Fufu, you’re gonna pretend you don’t know?

Kanato: Could it be...Mother...?

???: Exactly...It’s been a while, hasn’t it? My precious, dear Kanato.

Cordelia: ( Fufu...Ahahahahha! )

( Taking over her body...Fufu. It was more of a breeze than I expected. )

Yui: ( No way...! Why are you doing this!? )

Cordelia: ( Isn’t that obvious? Using your body, I’ll kill him... )

( The one who killed Karlheinz ー Kanato! )

Yui: ( Why are you going to kill Kanato...! Stop! Get out right now!! )

Cordelia: Fufu...

Kanato: ...Is it really you, Mother?

Cordelia: Why of course. It’s me, Cordelia.

You must have realized that this girl’s heart belongs to me as well, right?

Kanato: I see, just as I thought...It really was like that.

However...I didn’t think you would actually be there.

Yui: ( Kanato...! You can’t! Don’t let yourself be deceived by this person! )

( Kanato....!! )

Kanato: ...? ...Yui? 

Mother...Where is Yui?

Where did she go...? Don’t tell me, is she gone?

Cordelia: No, she is still here. Inside of me...You see.

Kanato: Really? She’s in there?

Yui: ( Kanato!! )

Cordelia: ( You don’t seem to understand your current situation very well. )

( If you try anything funny, I’ll kill Kanato right here, right now! )

Yui: ( N-No way...!! )

Cordelia: ( Fufu...However, rest assured? )

( After I’ve gotten rid of Kanato, I’ll make sure to banish you from this world as well. 

( As you wish, you’ll be together with Kanato forever! In the afterlife (2), that is! Fufu...Ahahaha! )

Yui: ( No...What should I do...At this rate, Kanato’s gonna get killed... )

( I’ll end up killing Kanato with my own hands...! )

ー The scene shifts to the castle’s play room

Kanato: ...Mother?

Cordelia: What’s the matter, Kanato? What should we play with today?

Kanato: Fufu...You’re gonna play with me again today as well?

Cordelia: Of course? Today I’ll read a book to you. 

Kanato: Lately you’ve been playing with me a lot.

Cordelia: Are you having fun, being able to talk to me?

Kanato: Of course, Mother.

Cordelia: You really are such a good boy, Kanato. Yes...Just stay like that...

Kanato: However, Mother, is Yui doing okay?

Cordelia: Of course. Seems like she is asleep right now.

Kanato: I see...

Yui: ( Kanato...I want to see him...I want to talk to him... )

( Lately Cordelia has been in charge most of the time... )

( I’m anxious that I might never be able to return to my own body if this keeps up... )

( I don’t want that...No way...Besides, I can’t stand having to watch Kanato talk with anyone but me... )

( However, if I try to forcibly take the wheel and talk to Kanato, I’m sure Cordelia will... )

Cordelia: Well then, Kanato, come over here.

*TIMESKIP*

Kanato: ...

Cordelia: ...Oh dear, Kanato. What are you spacing out for? Don’t you like this book?

Kanato: No, that’s not it.

Cordelia: Then why do you look so sad?

Kanato: ...

Cordelia: Kanato?

Kanato: ...You are the one making a sad expression, Mother.

Cordelia: ...What do you mean?

Kanato: Exactly like that. Can’t you tell, Mother?

Even though your eyes look so incredibly sorrowful right now.

I’m sure it’s because Yui is suffering inside.

Yui: ( Kanato... )

Kanato: Look, you just did it again...

You’re making a sad face...

Cordelia: ...

( You little pest...! )

Kanato: Say, Mother? What is Yui doing?

I can’t even remember when was the last time we got to properly talk to each other.

Is she really...still there?

Cordelia: Haah, Kanato...Are you still worried about that girl?

Let’s just forget her already?

The one in front of you right now is me, Cordelia.

Am I not enough?

Kanato: ...

Cordelia: ( Aah...This is so annoying...I just want to kill him on the spot. )

Yui: ( I won’t let you do that! )

Cordelia: ( Silence! )

( ...Whatever. It would be boring to kill him right away. )

( I have to kill him slowly, making sure he suffers thoroughly...! )

...

Kanato: Mother...?

Cordelia: I understand, Kanato.

My cute little boy is asking for it, so I’ll let you see her.

Kanato: Really?

Cordelia: Yes, really. That will put you at ease, right?

Fufufu, fufufufu!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Yui: ( Cordelia, what’s the meaning behind this!? )

Cordelia: ( No point in asking. Kanato is going to meet you now. )

( ーー You, played by me! )

Yui: ( N-No way...! )

Cordelia: ( Fufu...And then he’s going to be driven to his own pitiful death! )

Yui: ( Please, cut it out! )

Cordelia: ( I wonder what kind of expression he’ll make. You better watch carefully! )

Yui: ( No...! Please! Don’t kill Kanato! )

*Knock*

Kanato: Can I enter now?

Yui?: Yeah, go ahead.

Yui: ( Kanato! Don’t be tricked!! This isn’t me! It’s Cordelia!! )

Kanato: ...

Yui?: Kanato...

Kanato: Yui...Is it you?

Yui?: It’s me, Kanato!!

I wanted to meet you so badly...!

Hey, did you feel the same way?

Kanato: ...Yeah. Of course, Yui!

Cordelia: ( Fufu, piece of cake. )

Yui: ( Please! Don’t do this! )

Cordelia: ( I don’t want to. You should just lament over your own inability to do anything over there. )

Yui?: You see, Kanato...There’s something I want to tell you.

Kanato: What is it?

Yui?: I’m thinking of entrusting my body to your Mother.

But rest assured. Me and Cordelia-sama are together as one.

Alongside Cordelia-sama, I’ll remain by your side forever.

Kanato: You and Mother...?

Yui: ( Cordelia! Don’t say such reckless things! )

Cordelia: ( Nfu, why not? Don’t you think this makes things more interesting? )

( After putting him at ease, I’ll be pushing him down a dark pit of despair. )

Yui: ( Kanato...! )

Yui?: That’s why, Kanato. I think this will be the last time we’ll be able to talk directly like this.

Let’s make some wonderful memories together.

Cordelia: ( Exactly... The beautiful memory of being killed by these hands...Okay? )

( AーAhahahaha! )

Kanato: Yui...

Yui: ( Kanato, please...Don’t listen to what I’m saying... )

Kanato: Hey, if this is the last time I get to see you, will you let me drink your blood? 

Yui: ( Eh... )

Yui?: I don’t mind but this body of mine will remain the same from here on out, you know...

Kanato: I want to suck your blood right now. It’s okay...Right?

Yui?: ...Got it. It’s okay, go ahead.

Yui: ( No...He’s going to drink someone else’s blood right in front of my eyes... )

Kanato: ...Understood.

ー Kanato bites her

Kanato: Nn...Haah...

Yui?: ...Ah...

Kanato: ...Nn...Hey, are you really...?

Yui: ( ...Kanato...? )

Yui?: Nn...What?

Kanato: ...Nn...It’s different.

The taste of your blood is different from usual, Yui.

Cordelia: ( Che...What a fussy child. )

Yui?: That’s because...Fufu.

...I’m just so happy that you’re drinking my blood for the first time in a while.

I guess you don’t understand this feeling of mine...

Please, Kanato. Suck me more.

Kanato: ...

Yui?: Ah...!

Kanato: ...Nn...

Yui: ( Cordelia, please cut it out! I’m begging you, stop... )

Cordelia: ( Why? Kanato’s having a blast as well? )

( I’ll say the things you want to say in your place! )

Yui?: Hey, Kanato...

Kanato: ...Is something the matter, Yui?

Yui?: You know, I love you!

Kanato: ...I’m happy...Nn.

Yui?: Hey, Kanato, what about you? Do you like me?

Yui: ( Stop...Stop! )

Kanato: ...Nn...I love you...

Yui: ( Kanato...That isn’t me. It isn’t Yui... )

Kanato: Do you want more?

Yui?: Fufu...Of course.

Kanato: ...Haah, ...Nn...!

Yui: ( Kanato...! )

ー The screen fades to black

Yui: ( Will I remain chained here forever, until Cordelia kills Kanato? )

( With my body...She’ll... )

( I definitely don’t want that...! )

ー The scene shifts back to the living room

Yui?: Kanato, thank you.

I’m glad I had you drink my blood one last time.

Kanato: I was also really happy to be able to talk with you.

Yui?: Nfu...Well then, it’s almost time to say goodbye, Kanato.

Kanato: ...Before that.

Yui: ( Kanato...? )

Kanato: There’s one last thing I’d like to request. 

Yui?: A request? ...What is it?

Kanato: It isn’t anything serious.

ー Kanato steps closer

Kanato: Let’s die together, Yui.

Yui?: Haah...?

Yui: ( Kanato...! )

Kanato: After all, didn’t we promise time after time to live by each other’s side? 

It would be odd for only you to disappear, right?

There’s no way you forgot about the ‘together’ part...Right? 

You can do it, right? Yui.

Yui?: R-Right, Kanato...

Cordelia: ( Aah, god! What a pain...! )

( Even though I am the one planning to kill you after this...! )

Yui?: But if I die here, your precious Cordelia-sama will perish as well, you know?

Kanato: It’s okay. I’m sure Mother will understand too.

So...Let’s die togetherーー

ー Kanato pins her down

Yui?: K-Kanato...

Kanato: I won’t let go.

Yui: ( Thank god...Thank you, Kanato... )

( If I have to kill Kanato with my own hands, I’d rather just die. )

( Besides, having Kanato be the one killing me, to me that’s... )

Cordelia: ( Don’t give me that crap! I don’t plan on dying right here! )

Kanato: Hey, tell me?

Yui, how do you want to die?

Yui?: Kanato, let’s calm down and taーー

Kanato: I can’t calm down. Just thinking about how I get to die alongside you makes my heart race...

Fufu...I didn’t think this day would come.

You won’t fight back, right, Yui?

We get to be together again afterwards, so you’ll be happy, right?

Rather than the sad expression you’re making right now, you’ll laugh, right?

You’re happy, right? After all...We promised to be together forever...

...Aah, right.

In that case, I’ll strangle your throat!

ー Kanato starts suffocating her

Yui?: Ah...!

Kanato: Rest assured? I’ll follow right after...

No need to be sad.

Cordelia: ( C-Can’t breathe...! )

Yui: ( That’s it, Kanato! Keep going and kill me... )

–> If you are playing the Limited V edition or the Grand Edition, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Hey...It feels as if I finally met you...Look at me with those eyes more...When you gaze at me like that, my heart overflows with joy...”

Kanato: Your eyes are finally smiling, Yui.

I love you, Yui...

Yui?: Sto...Stop!!

Kanato: Stop...?

Telling me to stop even though you look so happy, what’s wrong, Yui?

...Fufu, ahahaha!

Just a little more...Soon...

Look, I’ll add in some more strength.

Aah...Whether it’s your life, or your blood, everything, I want it all...

ー Kanato bites her

Kanato: ...Nn...Fu...Haah...Nn...

Yui?: Uu...Ah...!

Kanato: ...Nn...

Cordelia: ( At this rate, I’ll reallyーー!! )

Yui?: Let...go...

Kanato: ...?

Yui?: Let me go...Kanato! That person is the...only one...who may kill me...!

The one you ended up killing...My beloved...Karlheinz!! He’s the only one...!

Kanato: ...!

Yui?: Haah, haah, haah...

Kanato: ...Fufu...

I knew it...It really is like this...

This isn’t Yui. It’s you after all, Mother...

Hey, Mother?

Yui: ( Kanato! )

Yui?: Hmph! What’s the big deal? ...I just messed with you a little.

You’re right, it’s me, Cordelia.

Kanato: It really is you, Mother. I see...

Perfect timing. There’s something I want to talk about with you.

Yui?: Nfu, I’m glad to hear that. What is it?

Kanato: You see, Mother. I love you.

That’s why I was very happy to be able to talk to you again this way...

...But you know...

Ever since you appeared...She’s always making such a sad face.

That’s why...

I started thinking about what I should do to get rid of you.

Yui: ( ...!! )

Yui?: W-What did you just say...?

Fufu...Just when I was wondering what you’d say next...You spout such nonsense!? 

Kanato: Mother...Tell me.

What should I do to have you disappear out of our sight?

Yui?: Kanato...The one disappearing won’t be me, but her!

Kanato: ...? Yui...

Yui?: Too bad! Yui won’t show herself anymore. Never again!

Kanato: ...!!

Yui?: Besides, do you even know why I decided to take over her body in the first place?

Kanato: What do you mean...?

Yui?: Aah, you really are such a foolish child...That’s exactly why I love you, my cute Kanato...

I love you from the bottom of my heart...And as the one who killed Karl, I loathe you more than anyone as well...!

Yui: ( No! Kanato will...!! )

( Cordelia! Stop! I don’t mind if you remain in control of my body! )

( However, killing Kanato is the one thing I won’t let you do! )

Yui?: !! Shut up! Silence!

*CRASH*

...! Just obediently listen to what I say! Gosh, this body really is so useless!

Kanato: ...! Yui, is that you...!? Are you in there...?

Yui! Can you tell it’s me?

Yui: ( Kanato! I’ll definitely protect you...! )

( Killing Kanato is...the one thing I definitely won’t let her do! )

Yui?: Shut up! Yui no longer exists! This body belongs to me...I will...!

*CRASH*

Kanato: No, Yui is still there. Am I right?

You may be my Mother but...I won’t let you get away with this.

Kanato: Yui...Can you hear me?

Yui: ( ...! Kanato! I can! Loud and clear! )

Kanato: I’m sorry, Yui...

I got to talk to Mother for the first time in such a long while, it made me happy.

However, I simply can’t bear to look at your sorrowful face.

I don’t want to see your sad expression.

So...Let’s go back?

To our fun lifestyle with just the two of us.

Yui: ( I want to return! I want to come back, Kanato! )

Yui?: Hmph! It’s useless! Next, I’m going to kill you...And Yui too...!

Yui?: Eh...No way!? Why are these tears...!

Kanato: Yui, don’t cry...Everything will be okay now.

Even if I can’t hear your voice, I can tell ー That you want to return.

I know that you want to return to my side, Yui.

Mother, I love you too. I love you so much that I want to kill you at once.

But you know...If I were to stab you through the heart to kill you now...

I won’t be able to meet Yui ever again.

I don’t want that.

I have to live by her side after all.

This time for sure...In our own little world!

Yui?: ...!

Yui: ( Kanato...!! )

Kanato: Yui...Come out!

Don’t lose to Mother!

ー He kisses her

Kanato: Nn...

*Thump*

Yui: Nn...Ah...!

Kanato: ...! Yui, is that you...?

Yui: ...Kanato? Kanato! Then I...

( Was I able to return...? )

Kanato: Yeah. It’s okay now, you’ve come back.

...Welcome back, Yui.

Yui: I’m back, Kanato...!

ー The screen fades to black

Cordelia: ( How!? My powers should have been invincible! )

Yui: ( ...This body is mine. I won’t ever let you do with it as you please again! )

( Both this body and this world don’t need anyone but me and Kanato )

( This time for sure, I’m going to live with Kanato in our own little world forever. )

Cordelia: ( Shit...!! How!? I was...I was so close...! )

( Aah...No way...! )

( My strength is... )

ー Cordelia fades away for good

Kanato: In this world, it’s just the two of us. We don’t need anyone else...

It’s time to say goodbye for good.

Farewell...Mother.

*Thump*

Yui: Kanato...Are you sad, knowing you’ll never be able to see your Mother again?

Kanato: I suppose...

But, I don’t really mind. After all, I have you.

That’s all I need right now.

Hey, Yui...Let me suck your blood?

I want to feel you close...

Yui: Yeah...! Of course!

( I want to feel Kanato by my side too... )

ー He bites her

Kanato: Nn...

Yui: Nn...!

Kanato: Nn...Muah. Haah...Fufu, thank god. This is your blood without doubt.

Nn...It’s delicious...Nn...

Hey, next you should...drink my blood?

Yui: Can I...?

Kanato: I want you to feel me as well after all...

Yui: ...I’m happy...I was just thinking about how I wanted to feel you too...

To think our thoughts were in sync...

Kanato: Fufu. You sure are cute. Here, go ahead...

Yui: ...Nn...

Kanato: ...Nn...Fufu, how is it?

Yui: ...Haah...I was able to...feel first hand how you’re here with me...

Kanato: Fufu...I’m glad to hear that. Hearing you say that fills me with happiness...

Ah, there’s blood dripping down your neck...Nn...

Yui: ...Ah...

Kanato: Heh...Nn...I can’t let even a single drop of your blood go to waste after all...Nn...

Your...everything...

Yui: Nn...I feel the same way...

Kanato: Aah...Fufu, there’s blood stuck on the tip of your nose as well...Muah...

Yui: Nn...W-Well, I got a little carried away...

Kanato: ...Fufu, we really are like two peas in a pod no matter what, huh?

Yui: Yeah...I’m so happy.

Kanato: Hey...Yui?

Yui: What is it, Kanato?

Kanato: You only have me. I only have you. It’ll be just the two of us for eternity.

Nothing should be able to get in between us...That’s why, I want to be even closer to you...

Yui: I love you, Kanato. I don’t need anything but you.

Kanato: Fufu. I’m so happy...

In our own little world...I’ll love only you forever...

ー The screen fades to black

Kanato: I love you...

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, he says both どうして or ‘doushite’ and なぜですか or ‘naze desu ka’ which both mean ‘why’ in English, so I went with a less literal translation for the second part of the sentence instead. 

(2) Technically, Cordelia says 死の世界 or ‘shi no sekai’ which means ‘the land of the death’

[aire101]

Ferrum Chapter 5

LINK TO FIC MASTER POST

A/N:  Well, I'm definitely not winning Nanowrimo again this year, but I did get a chapter out earlier than previously, and hopefully I'll be updating again soon. Also, this chapter I attempted to briefly show different perspectives on the game being cleared, and both were based on what my own feelings would have been at two different points in my life, so don't come at me about it please. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

---

The Town of Beginnings had changed remarkably from three weeks ago.  Sure, the buildings and streets were all the same, but the mood and tension in the air hung like a thick blanket over nearly every person within the walls.  In sharp contrast, the NPC’s on the street continued to merrily hawk their wares and interact with those in the street, most of whom seemed to be ‘out of towners’ like themselves.  From windows above, you could occasionally see a face peering down before a drape would be pulled closed again.

All in all, it was distinctly unsettling, but exactly what Tony had expected.

“I knew some would hole up in the starter town, but this is a bit more intense than I imagined,” said Peter, as they made their way towards an inn.

“Kid, almost two thousands people have died since this game began—two out of every ten people who started.  In all honestly, I’m surprised how many of us have hit the ground running,” said Tony.

“I know, but turning into a complete shut-in seems a bit extreme.  Its not like anything is going to attack you within the city’s Safe Zone…”

“You say that, but that assumption is born from an inherent trust of the system.  A system that has already been previously hijacked and altered to trap us all here on the whim of a asshole with a god complex.  Considering that, who do you really think is crazy?  The ones who can’t bring themselves to trust the system to protect them, or the ones who do?” asked Tony.

“I guess when you put it that way, I see your point.  But still, we’re probably going to be here for a while.  Are they just planning on staying in one room for the next however many years?”

“I imagine some of them will eventually venture out and find their own niche in the world, even if it isn’t battling the local mobs.  Some will start fishing, or hunting, mining, cooking… the skill list for the game is extensive.  Some entrepreneurs will probably start opening player run businesses and establishments.  But I doubt we’ll see much of that until the Level One Floor Boss is found and cleared.  These people are stuck in the dark without a light, believing the system is rigged against them.  They need to see proof of what’s possible, a light to guide them forward, before we’ll see any real progress here.  And even then, there will still be some who never go further than the walls of this city,” said Tony.  “The amount of specialized therapy everyone in this game will need afterward is going to make some psychologists rich.”

Ahead of them, Tony saw a sign for an inn and turned to Peter.

“You can go ahead and get us set up for the night.  I’m going to go and find a tool shop and a smithy, see if I can add a durability upgrade.  Do you need anything while I’m out?” asked Tony.

“Um… Maybe some more potions.  I used the last one back in the West forest.  Though god those things taste like dirty socks,” said Peter, checking his inventory.

“You know, if you stopped doing dumb crap like jumping between me and attacks you wouldn’t have this problem,” said Tony, with a dry tone and a distinctly unsympathetic expression.

“What’s the point of having each other’s back if I don’t guard it?” said Peter, completely unrepentant.

Tony threw up his hands as he turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Potions it is!”

He didn’t have to look back, he could feel the boy’s eyes roll into his head.

As Tony worked his way towards the central market, he took in the graystone streets and buildings with ornate windows and battlements.  Every so often he would come across small barren plazas with lovely fountains and flora, nearly empty cafes and brightly colored vendor stalls. Even an occasional vista located just perfectly to allow someone a majestic view of the city and the surrounding area. Tony sighed, thinking of what could have been for this city that many had spent years of their lives developing.

The Town of Beginnings would have been a beautiful city without the miasma of despair that clung to its inhabitants.

It got him to wondering exactly what had come of his AIs, the ones Argus had requested.  He had almost had one completely coded at the time of their last meeting.  She had been a sweet one.  But since he had woken in the game, he had seen no sign of her.  Did they end up including her in the Cardinal System at all?

Maybe he should start poking around the GM user panel in earnest, see what he could find out.  So far, he had mostly kept away from delving into it, afraid of catching Kayaba’s attention.  But if there was something he could do to help, he would damn well try.  

Up ahead he saw a sign advertising a blacksmith and item vendor.  Eventually he wanted to try and open a smithy himself.  Peter seemed set on throwing himself into harms way (per usual), and if he was going to do that, Tony wanted to make sure he had the best equipment available to do so.  So Tony started learning how to do what he did best— make weapons and armor.

But to do that required a blacksmith’s forge and anvil.  And to get that required a hefty amount of Cor.  So for now, he rented an NPC blacksmith’s resources every now and then in order to improve and repair their equipment.

A bell jingled as he opened the door, undoubtedly triggering the customary NPC interaction.

“Welcome to Varden’s Smith and Sundry!  How may I help you today?” called the man behind the counter.

“I would like to buy potions,” said Tony.

“What quantities would you like?”

“Ten.”

“That will be 1,500 Cor.”

“Ugh…” Tony broke the script to groan.  He didn’t begrudge the purchase, far from it.  But seriously, the kid needed to stop getting hit in the first place.  His heart really couldn’t take this, and neither could their pocket book.

Who would have guessed he’d finally learn the concept of budgeting in his fifties?  And boy did it suck.

Tony opened up his inventory, removing the required amount to place on the counter.  As soon as it hit the counter, the bag of Cor flashed and disappeared.

“Thank you for your purchase!  Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Yes, I’d like to rent your forge,” said Tony.

“Ah, yes!  Come!  Follow me this way…”

—

As Peter entered the inn, he glanced around the first floor tavern where various parties sat around rough hewn tables over pub fare and pints.  At the bar, several others sat, conversing casually, though a little less intimately than those at the lower tables.  Making a decision, he approached the bar.

“What can I getcha?” asked the barman as Peter sat.

“Whatever today’s special is and a pint,” said Peter, setting the typical meal cost in Cor down on the counter.

The barman nodded, accepting the payment and placing a full pint down in front of Peter before turning to finish the task.

As he waited, Peter took sips of his drink and listened in on the conversations around him.

“Word is they’ve finally found the entrance to the dungeon, as well as a new town relatively close to it called Tolbana.  Hopefully within the next week or two they’ll find the boss and the first floor will be cleared,” said a woman to his left.

The girl sitting on the other side of her shook her head.  “But how many more will die clearing it out?  There’s already almost 2,000 names crossed out in the Monument of Life in the Black Palace.”

“What else are we supposed to do?  We either die trying to get out or die of old age stuck in a virtual world.”

“Would that really be the worst thing, though?  In the real world I’m in constant pain from my condition, some days I can’t even make it out of bed for more than the absolute necessities.  Here I can live without that.”

The woman next to him sighed, “I’m sorry for that, and I understand why you would consider the option of living within the system.  But some of us can’t.  When I dove, I told my husband it would only be for a couple of hours, then we could take our five year old son to the park.  They’re waiting on me to return.  I want to be able to see my child grow up.  So its a risk I have to take.”

The other girl nodded, “I get it.”

It was at that point the barman set a plate of what looked and smelled like chicken and roasted squash in front of him.  Peter thanked the man and began to eat.

“God that looks good…” said the girl a couple seats down.  “I haven’t eaten a proper meal in a couple days.  The black bread is cheaper, though its dry and doesn’t last very long.”

“You really should try and go hunting.  You’ll never make enough Cor or skill points to survive comfortably unless you do.  Even if its just around this area,” said the other woman.  “Going hungry for the next few years would be pretty miserable.”

“Sorry if I’m intruding,” said Peter, “but I’ve been curious about something— how often and how quickly do you get hungry in here?”

“Well, I haven’t really left the city, so I don’t make much Cor to buy food with,” said the girl.  “So I kind of just stay hungry throughout most of the day.”

“When I’m leveling I tend to press through instead of stopping to eat,” said the woman, “But when I am eating regularly, I’d say I start feeling hunger similar to how I would in the real world, about every four to six hours.  But I’m not sure if its tied to our real world feelings of hunger or a virtual schedule.”

“Might be a little of both… I tend to get hungry a lot in RL, but in here its spaced out a bit more,” said Peter, taking a bite of chicken.  

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl still looking wistfully at his food.  

“Sir, I’d like to order a second plate, but give it to her,” said Peter, nodding in her direction.

As the barman nodded and walked off, the girl started waving her hands.

“No, you shouldn’t do that.  Save your Cor—”

“It’s alright, I promise.  I’m in here with—”

Shit.  What should he call Tony?

“…Imagine being stuck in here with your dad.”

“Er— my sort of Dad, and we’ve been doing pretty good with the mobs.  So I can afford it.”

She looked for a moment like she was thinking of arguing still, until the plate was set in front of her.  She eyed the food before her eyes teared up a bit, and she nodded.

“Thank you.  I really appreciate your kindness.”

“It’s not a problem.  I’d do the same in the real world.  And what I would do there is what I should do in here,” said Peter.

“Those are wise words,” said the woman.  “And you are uncommonly kind.  I hope you are able to keep that, but don’t expect everyone in here to share your mindset.”

“I won’t, but just because others choose to not do the right thing doesn’t mean I have to.  We all have the power and responsibility to choose to do good,” said Peter, and he felt the intangible feeling within him that he had been wrestling with since the beginning calm.

It wasn’t that the responsibility was no longer his without his powers, it was that the power and responsibility was everyone’s.  

Perhaps it always had been.

And just like in the real world, there were those who used their power for good, those who used power for evil, and those that never used their power at all.  Most thinking they had none, just like the girl a couple seats down.

But if they worked together…

Peter felt his resolve form.

He was going to the front line.

—

As Tony stepped back out onto the street, he considered his options.

Obviously he needed to head back to the inn.  Afterward they could probably head out and take a look around town, seeing as they hadn’t really done so on day one.

But the memory of a café he had passed was singing its song…

He really missed coffee.

Surely they had some digital variation in this game.  If not he was lodging a complaint.

The café was just as vacant as when he passed earlier.  There were a couple people sitting at a table outside, but was otherwise empty of players.

The customary tinkle of the door as he entered prompted the NPC barista to smile and wave.  On the wall behind the counter was a blackboard with various items written— sandwiches and what Tony suspected were types of teas, and in a bottom corner there was a selection of drinks called ‘Kaf.’

“Bingo!  I’ll have a black kaf,” Tony looked at the pastries on display off to the side, spying a familiar donut shape with pink frosting, “And one of whatever you call this.”

A minute later he was sitting at a table out front, facing away from the two other patrons with his visor moved, taking a drink of the weirdest tasting ‘coffee’ he had ever tasted.  If he had to describe it he would say it was more like a tea, with floral and berry notes and a touch of honey, but with a darker color and consistency of a french press coffee.  It wasn’t bad, it just was not what he had been expecting.

Oh well, the donut was a perfect reproduction of a strawberry frosted Dunkin Donut.

“Man, if I make it out of this alive my wife is going to kill me.  She’s been super anxious since the Blip— not that I blame her, you know— and this whole thing was definitely not something she was very confident in to begin with,” said one of the men sitting at the nearby table.

“Damn… you were one of the ones caught up in that?  I lucked out I guess… I’m not really close to anyone and the ones I am were spared,” replied the other.

“Yeah, I know the Avengers ended up saving everyone in the end and I’m thankful for that obviously, but everything is still such a damn dumpster fire.”

That caught Tony’s attention.

The Blip?  Bit of an odd name for an Avenger’s battle.  How were the Avengers even a thing?  Last time he checked Rogers and his merry men and women were still considered war criminals at large.  The ‘Avengers’ consisted of himself, Vision and Rhodey.

“No joke.  Almost every economy is still tanked at the moment.  And I’m pretty sure half of upper New York State is a crater.  Glad that fight was over there and not in my part of the world.”

The bottom of Tony’s stomach dropped out at those words.  

“There was a battle… you won, but you took a lot of damage.  You’ve been in a coma ever since.”

Peter had never said anything else about the battle, and Tony hadn’t pressed.  But if a giant chunk of the state had been completely destroyed because of the battle surely he would have mentioned that?

Wouldn’t he?

Obviously a lot more happened in that battle than Peter had led him to believe.  Tony eventually being taken out of commission in a fight was one thing, but from the sound of things this was on par with the Battle of Sokovia.

So why hadn’t Peter mentioned it?

“It was good to catch up, we’ll have to do this again when I’m back this direction.  Or maybe on another floor if the rumors of the first floor dungeon door being found are true,” said the first man, standing up.

“Sounds good to me, though I’ll probably be pretty busy soon.  Some of us around here have started organizing to try and provide resources for the people here in town.  Some of them are players who don’t want to chance dying in the game, but there’s also some kids who are way younger than what the minimum play age was supposed to be.  A few volunteers have taken up residence with them in a church in town and we’ve been supplying them with food…” said the other man, as they both walked away.

Damn… that wasn’t something he had thought about, but of course there would be kids who either snuck in on a parent’s account or who were allowed to lie about their age to play the game.  Jokes about eight year olds talking crap on Call of Duty were a dime a dozen and everyone laughed about it, but here…

Maybe he should look into that, see what help he could offer.  Though unlike in the real world, simply throwing his money at the problem couldn’t fix it.  Mostly because he didn’t have any money.  Ugh…

Speaking of kids though, he’d need to decide what to say once he got back to his kid at the inn.  

Tony took a few deep breaths, trying to loosen up the hold his anxiety had started to take.  

Obviously whatever had happened had been huge— Avengers assembled (with or without Rogers and co?), massive property damage, Iron Man out of commission, every country feeling the economic backlash.  But unlike what had happened with Sokovia, despite the damages it seemed like the general public opinion after the fact was positive…?  

That was unusual.

Most importantly at this point, whatever had happened had affected people across the globe, but especially one young man from Queens.

Had he been at the battle?  Tony had initially offered the kid a spot after the whole vulture debacle, but after he had actually slept on it a few hours (the first time he’d slept properly in a few days) he had come to the realization that Peter turning the position down had saved them from what had been an awful idea in the first place.  And that was BEFORE May Parker had shown up at the complex in an unholy righteous fury.

So Tony could not imagine having called Peter into a fight, and if it had taken place at the compound like he suspected, Peter shouldn’t have been anywhere near there.

He wanted to go back to the inn and wrangle the details out of Peter.  Who was the fight against?  What was it about?  Was Rogers there?  If so, how was Rogers involved?  Why was public opinion seemingly in their favor for once?  Had anyone other than him been hurt?

Oh god… What if something had happened to Pepper…

No.  Peter would have told him that.  He wouldn’t lie to him about Pepper, and he had told him weeks ago that she was fine.  She was safe.

Tony dropped his head into his hand.

He wanted to ask all those questions, needed those answers…

But even if he got his answers, what could he do about any of it?

And was it worth potentially driving Peter away from him?  His kid.  The only person he knew and could dare to trust with the truth of his identity in this world?

No.  No it wasn’t.

He would just have to see what he could find out from others.  And hopefully Peter would eventually come around and open up about what had happened.  He trusted the kid with his life, he would trust him in this, too.

The walk back to the inn seemed much quicker than the one to smithy due to Tony’s preoccupied mind and nerves.  He was still unsure what to say when he got to the room.  He needn’t have worried though, because Peter fixed that problem.

“I want to start fighting on the front line.  I’m heading to the dungeon tomorrow.”

“Wait— excuse me, what?”

[ragewerthers]

A Small Problem

Summary:  When something seems to be troubling Regis, Clarus takes it upon himself to find out what it is. Sadly... it leads to some truths and a small problem that has gone on for too long.

A/n: This is a fic that my friend @bgn846​ was kind enough to let me write! She had the idea of poor Regis getting upset over something that is well beyond his control.

Cor's height.

I hope that everyone who reads this can enjoy a little ridiculousness thanks to these boys!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223002

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 2120

-----------------------------------

Regis… was pouting.

And not just a bit of a sulk.  Oh no.

The young Prince literally looked like someone had rained on his parade, stolen all his Christmas gifts and burnt his birthday cake all in one go.

Clarus had been trying to puzzle it out all morning and so far he’d come up with nothing.  He prided himself on being able to figure out what was wrong with the man.  Or in better instances stopping things from making him seem this way in the first place.  However, sometimes his Highness could be… dramatic.  And that was saying it in the kindest way possible.

So, here he was, walking alongside his Highness with no discernible destination in mind, still trying to figure out what had upset the man.

“Clarus,” Regis’s quiet and detached voice spoke up for the first time this morning, making the young Shield snap his attention back to the present.

“Yes, Highness?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he heard that particular tone.

“How old is Soldier Leonis?” Regis asked, his eyes still staring straight forward as they continued on.

For a moment Clarus wondered if he’d misheard him or that he was joking at asking such an odd question, but his entire demeanor seemed to emanate that no… he was not.

“He’s… eighteen, Highness.  You’re the one who planned his party last month… remember?” he said, starting to worry that something was seriously wrong with the Prince.

“Mm… yes.  So I did,” Regis said offhandedly, though the news of Cor’s age didn’t seem to lighten his mood anymore.  “Then it really doesn’t make any sense.”

Clarus’s brow furrowed as he heard that and he turned to regard Regis once more, sadly curiosity winning out as he saw Regis losing himself once more to his foul mood.  “I’m sorry, but… what doesn’t make sense?” he asked carefully, not sure he was ready for the answer.

Regis’s expression turned into a scowl and for a moment his eyes flashed dangerously with an influx of magic he had gotten better at controlling.

“Why the hell does he keep growing?!” the Prince finally shouted, stopping his aimless walking and turning to face Clarus with a look of utmost annoyance, dejection and fury.

No… Clarus really wasn’t ready for that answer.

He was so unprepared that sadly his response was less than composed.

Before Clarus could even pretend to school his features the most unbecoming laughter escaped him.  He was laughing so hard that he had started to double over, only held up by leaning against the hallway wall.

“Oh my gahahahads!  Th-that’s what’s got y-you… you looking lihihihike… ahahaha!” Clarus tried to speak, but the hilarity of the moment overtook him once more and before long he was laughing so hard he was crying.  His normally deep voice pitched higher with mirth.

“Stop it!  Stop laughing this instant!  I…. I command it!” Regis spluttered, the dark expression from before now replaced with embarrassment and annoyance of a different sort.  Sadly this only seemed to make the Shield wheeze and Regis groaned forlornly.  “Come on, Clarus!  It’s not funny!”

“Y-Yehehes it is!” Clarus giggled, actually giggled, wiping at his eyes as his shoulders still shook with mirth.  A few passing councilmen glanced down the hallway that Regis and Clarus were standing in, giving them both odd looks before moving on and leaving Regis more livid.

“No!  No it’s not!  It’s a serious problem and aren’t you supposed to help me when I have serious problems?” Regis hissed, trying to keep his voice down so the nosy spectators moved on past, mumbling something that Regis was positive had to do with a giggling Shield.

Slowly Clarus started to reign himself in, his breathing still a little stuttered and cheeks rosy as he stood back up to his full height.

Looking down on Regis and seeing the absolute annoyance written in every feature didn’t help him trying to keep his composure.

“S-So… Highness.  What can I do to help you with your… small problem?” he asked, a wide shit eating grin spreading over his face and making Regis’s cheeks turn red.

“You’re a horrible human being and you should feel horrible!” Regis spat, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away as Clarus chuckled and moved after him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

“Hey… I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he offered, his smile softening as Regis finally stopped and turned around.  “Honestly though.  The reason you’ve been in a funk all day is because… Cor is taller than you?” he asked lightly, watching as Regis shifted a bit under the look he was being given.

“I… well... ,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck before sighing and ducking his head.  “Yes.  But it’s not just that, Clarus!  He keeps growing!  Like a weed!  He’s already surpassed me and he should’ve stopped, but it just keeps going and going!  Hmm… do you think I can tell the cooks to stop giving him milk?”

The question seemed so genuine that Clarus had to look away to try and keep his composure from cracking once more, a little snort escaping him regardless.

“Clarus!”

“S-sorry, sorry.  It’s just… why is this bothering you?  My height has never bothered you has it?  I’m at least a good foot and a half taller than you,” Clarus said with a little chuckle, though his smile faltered a bit as he saw the way Regis seemed to be looking everywhere but at him.

“Regis?”

“Hmm?  Oh… no I… it’s never bothered me.  Not in the least,” he tried to say casually, but Clarus was now far more aware that something was amiss.

“Your Highness?”

Silence.

“Your Grace?”

More silence.

“Regis.”

“Okay, fine!  It… did bother me a bit,” Regis mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and still refusing to meet Clarus’s gaze.

“Please tell me you didn’t try to keep the cooks from giving me milk or anything.”

Silence.

“Oh my gods!  Are you kidding me!” Clarus shouted.

“I didn’t do that to you okay?  Do… Do you remember that month where I had an incredibly heavy briefcase filled with important documents that I had to take with me to all of my meetings and social engagements?  I was about thirteen?” Regis asked, looking a bit ashamed.

Clarus didn’t like where this was going.

“I do.  I was the Eos’s most tired eighteen year old because of that thing.  I remember having to lug that around and I almost threw my back out twice!  What about it?” he asked, his eyes narrowed into slits.

Regis cleared his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck.  “I may have… fibbed.  Just a bit.”

“Do elaborate, Highness.”

Regis actually flinched at that.  “I… didn’t have any important documents so much as… many, many books in there to weigh it down.”

“What?!”

“I thought it might give me at least a chance to catch up with… where are you going?!  Get back here!”

Clarus had turned and started to storm off back down the hallway.  “You tried to weigh me down when we were kids to keep me from growing!”

Regis was trying to catch up to the mans longer stride and now it was his turn to reach out and grab onto Clarus’s shoulder, though he did have to stretch a bit.

“Hey!  It didn’t work, did it?  You still outgrew me and now Cor is doing the same!”

Clarus had stopped by this point and gave a heavy sigh, a flicker of anger still remaining, but he had to remember… this was years ago and Regis had literally been a child.  Closing his eyes for a moment he took a breath before turning around to face the man he had vowed to protect with his life.

Even if he had been… and still was… a little shit.

“First of all, you need to know that you are an absolute idiot for doing that,” Clarus said quietly, getting Regis to nod in agreement.  “However… looking back it is hilarious that a thirteen year old got me to do that without my knowing.  So.  I have to at least give you that.”

Regis couldn’t help giving a little chuckle at that and nodded.  “Still… sorry about that,” he offered and Clarus finally offered him a smile of his own.

“It’s fine, Highness.  Really.  But… you’re older now and, I had hoped, wiser.  So why are you so fixated on Cor getting taller than you?  It’s just genetics?  Mors isn’t a tall man either,” he said with a shrug and Regis scoffed a little.

“It’s annoying because I look like a valley between two mountains walking between you two!  If he doesn’t stop growing then I’m literally going to look like a troll Prince!”

“Who’s a troll Prince?” a voice popped up from behind Regis and glancing up Clarus’s smile only grew.

“Cor!  Just the man I was hoping to see,” he said, seeing a panicked look appear in Regis’s eyes as the Prince spun around to greet Cor in return.

Coming chest level to the man and having to look up at him.

Cor gave the Prince a salute, his young face still holding that stoic expression that it generally had.  “Your Highness.  Lord Amicitia,” he said in greeting before finally allowing a little smile to appear.  “But really… what about a troll Prince?”

“I’m afraid that our fearless leader… our future monarch… our bastion of hope… has a, dare I say, small problem,” Clarus said, watching as Regis snapped his head back to glare at him.

After learning about the suitcase incident from years ago he figured it was about time to get some payback.

Cor looked between the two, confusion on his face even as a little smile remained.  “Okay?  Is there… something I can do to assist?” he asked.

“It’s a ‘little’ difficult to say if you can,” Clarus continued, still feeling the glare upon him.  Oh this was fantastic.  “I think Regis would be the one to say if you could help a’tall’.  Wouldn’t you say so… your ‘High’-ness?”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” Regis hissed, Clarus soon fixing him with a narrowed expression that actually made the Prince shrink back a bit.

“Suitcase,” Clarus growled out in reply.

Needless to say Cor still had absolutely no idea what was going on and for a moment, wondered if the two had been hit with some sort of status effect from an unknown assailant.  First he walked up on the two of them talking of troll Princes and now Clarus was speaking oddly, the Prince looked confused and upset and now the Shield was talking about… luggage?

No… something was definitely wrong here.  Taking out his phone for a moment he shot a quick text to Monica at the Citadel’s medical ward before pocketing his phone and putting on his least scary smile, trying to seem placating.  He would’ve used his ear piece to communicate, but honestly, with how these two were acting he worried it wouldn’t just frighten them more.

“Okay you two,” he said in the calmest voice he could, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and gently starting to push them back down the hall.  “Why don’t we go for a little walk?  We can visit the nice lady at the medical ward.  You remember Monica, right?”

It was then that both Clarus and Regis broke out of their glaring match, feeling how they were being moved along by the young Marshal.

“Cor?  Cor what are you doing?” Clarus asked as he tried to stop, only to be pushed along a little more firmly, for the first time in awhile realizing that Cor was indeed actually starting to get a bit taller than himself.  Perhaps even a bit broader.

“It’s going to be okay,” Cor spoke slowly and calmly, giving them each a squeeze to their shoulders as his eyes flickered around the hallway for any dangers that may arise.  “I think you two may have been hit with a status effect.  We’re going to go for a little check up with Miss Monica.”

“What?!  We’re fine, Cor.  Clarus is just an ass and doesn’t know how to keep his big mouth shut!”

“Hey!  You started this, Prince Pipsqueak!”

“Cor!  Cor did you hear what he just called me?!”

Cor glanced between the two and continued to move them along the hall, raising a hand to touch his earpiece.  “Monica.  Cor Leonis.  I think the effect may be age regression.  Will keep you posted,” he spoke quietly as the two continued to bicker as he pushed them along.  “We may have a… small problem.”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 12

Done! Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which politics happen, a story is told and cultures clash.

Featuring: Nyx wanting to be anywhere else, Libertus' and Clarus' tempers, Cor being Cor and 2000 year old history being aired.

Warnings (these only apply to the story of Gilgamesh being told, which is clearly marked, if you want to avoid it): religious prosecution, death, murder, voilence against children

Words in Hadnissa:

ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter Galahkari = people of Galahd oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title cünaniu lin = members of the moot; lit.: belonging to the moot cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller

“How much are we going to tell the King?” Pelna suddenly spoke up, causing everybody to stop what they were doing.

They had all met again an hour before the briefing at his apartment. Stuffed with paperwork as it was, Nyx wondered how so many people still managed to find space in there.

Libertus was inspecting the contents of his fringe for some unknown reason. Currently he was in the process of dumping a squashed avocado that had gone bad, in the bin with a disgusted face. The wound on his face had been cleaned and taped shut and at the hospital he had gotten a high grade potion for his bruised ribs.

Crowe sat perched on his table and looked at the proceedings in front of her in amusement. Luche and Pelna stood side by side leaning against the wall by the front door and Ladone and Athina, who had insisted on accompanying him to his apartment, looked Nyx up and down with critical eyes.

He stood there, wedged between his TV and two formidable women as they made sure everything was perfect. It made him feel like prey and he did not like that. At all.

“Isn't this good enough?” he wanted to know.

He did not whine. He didn't.

Yet again Athina twitched at the large summer silk cloth that had been slung over his left shoulder so that the roaring coeurl was clearly visible along his upper arm and shoulder. At the front and back it had been tucked into a wide belt made out of fine cotton and a wooden brown colour, shot through with green never ending knots forming plant life, with the ends on both sides reaching his knees. It was draped in artful folds Athina was rearranging again and again much to Nyx' chagrin.

The rest of his clothes were positively understated in comparison. A sleeveless tunic with a high collar that was nearly skintight and beautifully soft leather trousers, both in a hunter's grey.

“It's enough when I say it is,” admonished Athina and checked the artfully done knot of the cloth belt again. “And now stop fidgeting. I'll be done sooner, if you stand still.”

Nyx did just that and heaved a defeated sigh.

“I could have just gone in a clean uniform like the rest of you,” he complained.

“With what is going on right now, no you can't,” announced Luche from his place against the wall.

A scowl was the blond's answer because Nyx did not dare to move, not wanting to get another one of Athina's disapproving glares. The woman was currently taking the Ulric blades Ladone was carrying and tucked one into the belt against the small of his back and the other one against his right thigh, held there by a leather harness.

“There was discussion of getting you some upper body armour, too, but it would never have been ready in time. Not with how intricate it would need to be, and a bowman's armour would have sent the wrong message. So this is the best we could do,” Athina said and motioned towards the shin guards made out of boiled leather and mithril bands strapped to his boots and the vambraces made in the same style.

“I feel ridiculous,” Nyx said.

“Don't be a baby,” Crowe grinned.

“Well, you can go in your uniform, so you're not allowed to say anything,” he shot back.

Athina stepped back, looked him over one more time and nodded.

“Oh thank ahtrii,” Nyx muttered as his shoulders slumped.

“You'll need to get the new tattoo done soon,” mentioned Ladone as she made sure her uniform jacket sat right around her shoulders.

“I know,” Nyx nodded. “I just haven't had the time to have it done yet.”

“Best make an appointment tomorrow,” the older woman advised.

Nyx nodded again. Makti-oir was something he would be for life and there were two insignia of his rank, both of which he had neglected to get until now since there wasn't a ceremony for it. One was a tattoo at an easily visible place like the back of his hand, and the second was a mithril bead worn in a fishbone braid.

This was when Luche stepped forward. “I can't help with the tattoo, but I have this.” Within his outstretched hand lay bead made out of mithril that was nearly as big as Libertus' Clan bead.

Nyx was not ashamed to admit to his gaping.

“Where did you get that? Do we even have time to do this?” he questioned.

Luche rolled his eyes. “Of course we have time for this. It won't take us that long to reach the Citadel. Now stop stalling.”

“Okay, okay,” Nyx muttered and took the bead.

Internally he bid good-bye to his shaved mullet. He would need to grow at least one side out again to properly accommodate for his new braid, but for now he improvised and added the braid to the right side. The bead was heavy.

“We'll tell the King what he needs to know,” Libertus answered Pelna's earlier question as he stood up from his crouched position by the fridge.

“And what does he need to know in your opinion, wise guy?” Luche wanted to know, irritated.

Libertus sneered in the blond's direction but before he could say anything Ladone stepped between them.

“Stop acting like a bunch of children. What are you? Five? We'll give the King a full briefing, from the moment we left Insomnia to the moment we got back. What we should be asking ourselves isn't what we're going to tell him, but how much we're going to explain.”

“It's Libertus' decision how much we're going to explain about Gilgamesh. His Clan is the most affected other than the Khara. It's their secret,” Nyx declared.

“I'll concede to Libertus' decision. He fought Gilgamesh and not only took a trophy, but also gained back an unrightfully worn bead,” Pelna announced.

Libertus assented to that with a slight nod and a thoughtful frown that made the taped wound on his face warp. The frown turned into a pained grimace. According to Libertus the doctor seeing to him had declared that there would be a scar, since they had been so late in treating the wound. Not that it bothered his hunting-brother overly much. Galahkari didn't have a stigma against scars like Insomnians had.

“Luche, would you give the report for the Kingsglaive? It would probably be best, if we didn't switch the spokesperson too much. And technically you're the highest ranking Glaive here,” Nyx requested.

The blond nodded after a moment, though he didn't look happy about it. “I gave my word to help you. But I also told you the nobles would be your problem. Don't expect me to do all the talking. Technical highest rank or not.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Why did the King demand all of us to be there? Nyx, Luche, Libertus and Ladone I can understand. But Pelna and me? We're not high enough in the hierarchy nor did we do anything report worthy,” Crowe thought out loud.

“Are you kidding me? You invented a whole new field spell and managed to pull it off so well, half an air fleet got destroyed,” Nyx exclaimed.

Crowe turned her head away to hide a blush. “And collapsed afterwards. The spell isn't perfect and I need more time to train its usage with my mages. Two nearly died because of magical exhaustion.”

“And Pelna, you held together communications. You know best what went on where at any given time, and if the Lucians weren't so obsessed with rank, you would be the one doing the reporting,” Nyx ploughed on.

Pelna didn't say anything, but a small grateful smile played at the corners of his lips.

“I think it's about time for you all to go, if you want to be there with a bit of time to spare,” Athina spoke up with a glance to the watch around her wrist.

Luche nodded after checking the time himself. “Being just on time sends a message in and of itself, but we're not at that point yet.”

Nyx didn't want to ask what that meant exactly, but even he could see that it was a power move meant to provoke and that's not what they wanted to do. He turned to Athina who held his new khopesh out towards him, hilt first. Right, power statements. Without a word he sheathed it at his hip, where, half hidden underneath the cloth belt, a sword belt was located.

She nodded, satisfied. Behind her back both Crowe and Libertus shot him wide grins that made him want to roll his eyes.

“Thank you for your help, Athina” he said instead with a sincere smile.

“You come over tomorrow and tell me all about how those nobles reacted to my Clan's handiwork, and we'll call it even,” she grinned.

There was a sparkle in her eyes Nyx couldn't seem to look away from. He nodded, transfixed.

“May the Great Coeurl watch over you, makti-oir,” she said and walked out of his apartment with a small wave.

Had she just winked?

As they themselves left, Nyx at the head of their small procession, Libertus came up next to him and patted him on the shoulder free of summer silk, with a leer.

“Good choice.”

“There's nothing going on, Libs,” Nyx denied with a shake of his head.

“Yes well, excuse me for thinking differently with how you two were looking at each other.” Nyx had to fight a blush creeping up his cheeks and Libertus' grin grew wider as he noticed. “I heard she's oirkar Sarcina's most talented apprentice. People started speculating that she'll most likely be next in line for the position with how he favours her.”

Nyx shot his hunting-brother a look. He could honestly care less, if Athina was to be the next oirkar of the Sarcina Clan or a simple seamstress. There was something about her, something vibrant and strong and dangerous, like one of the many poisonous flowers that grew on Galahd. Libertus held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I know you don't care about that. But seriously: anyone who can make you act like a responsible adult with just one look, has my seal of approval.”

“And we need more women in this group,” Crowe piped up from behind them.

Nyx, conscious of the looks they garnered as they passed the people on the street, carefully did not groan or bury his head in his hands. Sometimes he hated his family.

The guards were staring at them. More precisely they were alternating between Ladone's trident, Libertus' axe and Nyx' everything. This was probably the first time they saw authentic Galahdian fashion. Not that Nyx cared much about that. He was too busy concentrating on not messing up the artful folds of the summer silk. Athina would murder him with a sewing needle, if he did, he was sure.

They stood in the waiting hall in front of the throne room and they were not alone. At the other end of the hall a group of petitioners sat, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones and looking over at them periodically.

Pelna met his gaze and subtly rolled his eyes. Nyx snorted quietly. The man looked like a soldier ready for a parade with how neatly he was dressed. If one was to ignore the beads half hidden in his hair, announcing his Clan and occupation, that was. Crowe had cleaned up her hair enough that the braids holding her bun together were actually visible for once and even Luche wore a necklace made out of his beads wound on silver metal threads.

Politics they had all said. If Nyx hadn't disliked politics before, he was starting to hate them now.

Libertus proceeded to scowl at the assorted collection of canapés and drinks a butler had delivered as soon as they had entered the hall, which had never happened before. None of them had touched any of it during the ten minutes they had been waiting.

The large double doors opened and a group of three teenagers stepped out. Nyx immediately recognized them as the prince and his retainers, the Lord Shield's son and the Scientia whose name he couldn't remember right now.

The Scientia was the only one whose mien looked appropriately put together for this setting. The prince looked utterly bored and the Amicitia exasperated. Until their gazes strayed over to their group. An expression of bland neutrality that looked so much like his father's, slammed on the prince's face so fast, Nyx felt like he should get whiplash.

He greeted the prince with a stiff nod. The prince nodded back, curiosity creeping into not only his, but also into his companions' expressions. Nyx could only guess what they looked like at the moment. Five soldiers dressed to the nines in their uniforms, and the rising hero of the Kingsglaive dressed in a way neither of them had likely seen before.

Their gazes held for a long moment, until the Scientia muttered something into the prince's ear and they started to leave the hall.

“What was that about?” Crowe whispered somewhere behind him.

“They're all staring at us like we're some kind of attraction,” Libertus muttered under his breath, arms crossed over his chest.

Nyx gave a one shouldered shrug. “Curiosity, most likely. I have nothing against kids showing their curiosity.”

He watched as the prince's shoulders rose in an instinctive defensive movement as soon as he was out of the direct line of sight, and frowned. A child should not do that for wanting to know something.

“Oh, the prince isn't the problem. They are,” Pelna said and tilted his head first towards the still staring guards, then the other petitioners.

Ladone cast them all her hard flint stone gaze and Nyx watched in satisfaction as they hid a shudder and looked away.

A man in a black and dark green court uniform came over to them and cleared his throat. “If you would please follow me. The King is ready to see you now.”

“Thank you,” Nyx said and started to follow him.

Being polite couldn't hurt, he figured.

The servant bowed deeply as soon as he stepped over the threshold. “Your Majesty, may I present you his Majesty, Nyx Ulric, King of Galahd, and the Lords and Ladies of his court: Ladone Najad, Crowe Altius, Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara and Libertus Ostium.”

Nyx nearly choked on his own spit. What by all the spirits of Galahd...? He had just enough time to exchange a wide eyed glance with Libertus before someone, probably either Luche or Ladone, gently pushed him into the throne room.

He led their small procession, Libertus half a step behind him to his left, until they reached the base of the stairs. The throne room was surprisingly empty. The chairs on both sides of the gallery, where the ruling members of the court usually sat, were empty. King Regis sat on the throne, his Shield stood to his left and General Leonis stood on the landing. Other than the guards by the doors, no other people were present.

Like with every time he saw the King, Nyx could feel the weight of his debtor's braid practically drag him down. He tilted his head in greeting, not unlike he had done to greet the prince, while the others bowed but remained standing. Nyx could tell it was a pretty bad idea to kneel now.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted and the King returned it in kind, head dipping into a respectful nod.

Nyx tried not to show his involuntary wince too much. He was no King. Not in the way the Lucians thought he was. But as Luche had told him on their way here: trying to explain that to them would only end in more confusion and get them nowhere. So he grit his teeth and did his best not to show how uncomfortable this whole thing made him.

“I see you all made it back mostly in good health,” the King said, his eyes lingering on the taped wound running across Libertus' face, before he went back to intensely gazing at Nyx.

Cor's gaze flittered from the khopesh at his waist, to Ladone's trident only to get caught by the large battle axe his hunting-brother carried. A series of expressions ran across the General's face, from surprise, disbelieve and utter astonishment, only to harden into a piercing stare. Nyx frowned, wondering what was going on with the man. The Shield also frowned at the General. Probably because his body was high strung in sudden tension.

The tension and awkwardness was palatable in the room. Or was that only him?

“Yes your Majesty,” he answered the non question. “There have been no causalities on our side in this battle.”

The King leaned forward, astonished. “None?”

“None.”

“It has been much too long since I heard such good news from the front,” the King mused. “I would like to hear what happened, your Majesty.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow but nodded. They should probably address that whole royalty thing soon. He had a feeling that it could get out of hand very fast, if it hadn't already.

With my luck, it probably already has, he thought, thinking about that headline in the magazine Pelna had shown him.

Luche stepped up next to him, bowed and started the report from the moment they had left Insomnia. King Regis listened attentively, as did the Lord Shield, though their eyes regularly strayed towards the roaring coeurl depicted on the summer silk cloth. General Leonis' gaze never seemed to leave the large battle axe, which grew more and more disconcerting, the longer it went on.

Ending with their Troops reaching the empty heart of the Niff base, Luche took half a step back, clearly not intend to say much more, if he wasn't spoken to directly.

“Thank you, Lord Lazarus. But I have to wonder: this does not explain why the Glaive was this late in their return,” the Lord Shield stated with a frown.

“It was a trap set up by General Glauca,” Nyx spoke up, back straight and head held high.

Neither Luche nor anybody else would suffer repercussions for their late return. Not while he could do something about it.

“What?!” The Lord Shield seemed to fluff up like an angry chicatrice with shock.

General Leonis did not much more than blink while the King leaned forward with a worried frown.

“You said you managed to avoid causalities,” he said.

“Yes, your Majesty. We have twelve heavily injured people who will all make it and around thirty lighter injured people who still required medical attention, not counting our mages who all suffered various degrees of magical exhaustion,” Nyx reported.

His audience listened with growing amazement as he continued praising Crowe's ingenuity with magic, the field spell she had developed, and how she had used to to break their enemy forces before they had had the chance to attack.

“And I went to confront General Glauca together with Ladone of Clan Najad.”

“You. You went to confront the strongest fighter the enemy has within their army, with only one person for backup? Your Majesty,” the Lord Shield added the last part at a subtle sideways glance the King shot him.

Clarus Amicitia clearly didn't buy into the notion that Nyx was royalty and he could have hugged the older man for that. Well, maybe not, but the sentiment was there. But he couldn't help but bristle at the implication that he wasn't able to hunt his chosen prey. That was a serious insult towards any Ulric.

“I did,” he confirmed with a tilt of his head and carefully restrained indignation.

There was a moment of heavy silence between both parties.

Sensing that some form of faux pas had been committed, the King spoke up again: “Apologies, your Majesty. Please continue.”

Nyx regarded the King for a few seconds and nodded. He knew he shouldn't be insulted. It was a comment made in ignorance, but it still stung. That the King had apologized, surprised him, though.

So the report continued, alternating between Nyx, Ladone and Libertus until they reached their fight with Gilgamesh. That was when General Leonis spoke up.

“You are the first people in twenty-five years to enter the Tempering Grounds and return.”

Libertus, who had stepped up to stand to Nyx' left, gave a sharp grin in answer. “That... man never had to fight against an Ostium before.”

“Those are bold words,” the Lord Shield commented.

Throwing all subtlety into the wind, Nyx grabbed his hunting-brother by the arm to keep him from attacking the Amicitia.

“Libertus, no,” he ordered with as much authority as he could muster.

“They have no idea what they're talking about!” Libertus growled, a sneer on his face and anger in his eyes, but he did not move.

To his other side Ladone gave a quiet curse.

“Exactly, big guy. So calm down,” a warning growl slipped into Nyx' voice as his own magic sparked in agitation.

It only grew worse when another magical presence pressed down on them in a not-quite warning. It was King Regis, who looked down at them with a fire in his green eyes.

“Explain,” he ordered, his voice crisp.

This time Nyx did turn halfway around, still keeping the King within his sight, and looked at his comrades. The normally so laid back Pelna looked furious, while Crowe had a confused frown on her face and Luche looked like the gears turned in his head at high speed.

“The cünaniu lin decreed we should teach,” Ladone commented into the tense silence.

The Elders hadn't decreed shit. In fact, they were against the Lucians being taught too much, and Nyx was pretty sure them knowing a Clan secret counted as 'too much'. Ladone knew that. And Nyx knew that she knew. So why was she proposing this?

“Well,” Pelna ground out. “They need to know something. Understanding and tolerance doesn't come from ignorance, does it?”

“Luche, your grandmother is our oldest sinehär gisdrauht. What say you?” Nyx asked.

The blond's eyebrows shot up, but he considered the question seriously. “She's one of the people who have advocated for more tolerance.”

Nyx nodded. He felt like a bird chained to the ground and longed for the simplicity of a hunt. On one hand he didn't want for the Lucians to know even one of their stories, but on the other hand times were changing, had changed, and Leonid Colophon was right about one thing: they needed to change with them. So he turned towards Libertus.

“It's your Clan secret. What do you decide? None of us will begrudge you, if you decline.”

His hunting-brother's jaw flexed in suppressed anger and agitation, as he mulled their words over. This was hard on him, Nyx could tell, but after a long few seconds he nodded.

Nyx turned back towards the King who was clearly running out of patience, as were the Lord Shield and General Leonis.

“Before we start this, I need you to understand one thing, your Majesty,” he spoke loudly and more confidently than he felt.

“And what would that be?” There was a dangerous edge to the words that reminded Nyx that this ageing man on the throne had once been a dangerous hunter himself. That he could still be a dangerous hunter, if he so desired.

“What you're about to learn, has until now only been known to three of our Clans. The Ostium, the Khara and the Drautos. Telling someone outside of these Clans is considered an unprecedented show of trust. And telling a Clan secret to someone outside of our people has never been done,” Nyx explained.

“I understand,” the King answered gravely.

“No. No, you don't,” Nyx declared. “But maybe you will.”

He ignored the indignant faces of all three Lucians and stepped to the side. “Crowe, how long can you hold a fire spell?” he wanted to know.

His storm-sister tilted her head, thinking. “Long enough for this.”

She stepped forward and cupped her hands until they formed an improvised bowl in which she ignited a weak fire spell. It was nothing more than a few flames, but it would be enough.

“If you need to stop, I'll take over from you,” Nyx offered and Crowe shook her head.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Lord Shield demanded.

“Our histories need to be spoken in the presence of a fire. Otherwise they can be falsified. The fire's presence will ensure that every word spoken will be the truth and nothing but,” his storm-sister explained.

All eyes turned towards the Lucian King, who frowned, but nodded.

Nyx' gaze travelled towards Libertus, who didn't look happy about any of this at all, but cleared his throat nonetheless and started to speak, voice halting, as he searched for the right Lucian words.

Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well, for this is a story told to me by my mother and father, who were told by their mother and father back to a time when the Clans were at variance and the sea serpents still swam close to the surface.

At the end of the Wandering Years, when memory of Solheim was still fresh and our people were still hunted all the more for it, a child was born into the arms of the Ostium Clan. It was a boy with strong lungs and flailing arms, screaming his fury into the world. He was the first child born to Thermis and Querello Ostium and the only boy out of four.

The first sister was Tisiphone, who entered the world no two years after her brother had. Brown of hair and brown of eyes she was, with skin coloured like that of the Solheimr used to be. She was of the earth, steadfast and dependable.

Second came Apollaia with hair the colour of the moon and eyes the colour of the sun. Blessed by both heavenly bodies, her fate was to be a great one. Great, but also cruel, for greatness and the protection of sun and moon doesn't mean one remains unscathed on their journey.

And when the boy was seven and the sisters were six and three, their last sibling was born. Their parents named her Danaia, and her smile was the prettiest of them all.

The boy loved all of his sisters dearly, but the one he held most dear was Apollaia, for she had hair as pale as his own and even at her young age readily indulged him in his play-fighting. However, this was not the only reason he was closest to her.

“You must help her become strong,” his mother whispered to him at dusk when the Clan would rest from its day of wandering the marshes and hills. “Out of all four of you she will be in the most danger.”

“Apollaia is blessed by the sun and the moon, just like you are also moon-blessed,” his father explained patiently when the boy asked why this was so. “But those who bow to the Six think your sister cursed.”

“Why would they think her cursed?” the boy asked and his parents smiled at his curiosity.

Their only son had always been curious and Thermis and Querello indulged him readily in his thirst for knowledge, not knowing that it would play its part for what was to come.

Remember: a curious mind is a great gift, something to be cherished and nourished as long as it isn't taken too far.

“They believe the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, can see through the sun coloured eyes of a human. To them the sun-blessed are agents to his will; to spread the all consuming fire into all corners of the world,” his parents answered.

“That's stupid,” the boy protested then. “Sun coloured eyes are a sign of Eos, of Healers and Protectors. Everybody knows this.”

“They chose to forget. A fear has taken hold of those who chose to kneel: the fear of what the Six would do to them should they remember.”

“Kneelers are stupid,” the boy declared.

His mother would laugh a laugh sounding like wind chimes and his father would nod while his pale moustache twitched in amusement, every time they had this conversation.

Years past and the siblings grew safely in the arms of the Ostium Clan. Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, started to grow as strong in body as she had always been in character. Danaia, with her bright smile, loved to dance and sing when the flowers bloomed and by the firelight. And Apollaia and her brother were scarcely seen apart, always trying to learn something new, or daring each other into yet another adventure.

Years past and they were as safe and happy as they could be. But when the boy entered his twelfth year, when the last summer rains fell, it was decided that the Clan had grown too big to travel safely. Many contested this decision, for there is safety in numbers, true, but a big Clan during the Wandering Years also made a big target, made it difficult to stay hidden.

So split they did.

Five groups they were. One wandered north and west into the great grass plains of Duscae, one made their way to the south of Cleigne, the third stayed where they were and the forth wandered as far west as the land would let them. Thermis and Querello Ostium, along with all of their children and three others were the fifth group and the only one who wandered east into Leide.

Of those three two were the brothers of Querello and their names were Clades Drautos and Kaeso Khara. The third was Diasos Ostium, a distant cousin Thermis had taken in when his direct family had fallen to the hardships of their wandering.

Neither of the siblings took well to the split, least of all the only brother who clung all the fiercer to his sun-eyed sister. Many a night he raged against his parents and his father's brothers and brought his sisters to tears with his words.

And so their childhood happiness died with the warmth of the sun as winter began to make its march across the land.

For many seasons they wandered across Leide, hunted the wildlife, gathered what greens they could find and traded with those willing to let them near their settlements. These were nearly two years full of privations, for the plains of Leide were much harsher than the marshes and hills of Duscae they had wandered before.

During those near on two years Clades Drautos fell to the poisoned shadows when the Clan was driven out of yet another settlement. The Clan mourned and again the boy raged.

“Why do they have to hunt us like we are animals? Why can't we just make piece?” the boy cried out in grief as Apollaia with the sun coloured eyes, tried to console him.

No answer came for the boy that night or those that followed.

It was at the end of their second summer in the plains that the message reached them: A home had been found! A home where they could grow roots and be safe of prosecution.

But they weren't the only ones to hear that call and those who had knelt and bowed their heads towards the Six, renewed their efforts to hunt and kill the Free People.

An argument sparked between the adults of the eastern Ostium Clan. Between Kaeso Khara who wanted to stay and Thermis and Querello Ostium who wanted to leave.

“Think of the children!” Thermis cried when she thought her son and daughters asleep.

“Then leave and I will stay,” Kaeso argued.

“At least accompany us to the border, brother,” Querello pleaded. “We will need your strength against the poisoned shadows. Our children are strong, but I don't want them coming too close to those creatures ere they get sick.”

“Raiders and zealots have grown to such a number in the plains, we fear what they would do, should they catch sight of us. You are as strong with your blades as you are with your words. These skills would be invaluable for us until we reach the marshes,” the mother entreated in tears and Kaeso's hardened heart softened.

He agreed, for it was his brother in all but blood who asked him and the family of his family that was in danger.

Never did they make it over the border into Duscae, however. Only half a day's travel away from the marshes and hills, they were captured and taken to a town whose name has been lost. All but one of them were captured and thrown into the dungeons where they dwellt not in darkness, but in an ever shining light to keep the poisoned shadows away.

It was Diasos, who had been lucky enough to have been in search for a safe place to rest for the Clan, when they had been captured. And again the boy's temper reared as he cursed his cousin as the dungeon's doors closed behind him. Only did he stop when Apollaia begged him to cease with trembling hands that gripped his arm.

There were no windows to tell how many days they waited for their prosecutor to come. Sometimes food and water were brought by silent guards, but never enough and so the boy and his sisters saw their parents and their father's brother begin to waste away.

During this time the boy's mother would tell stories to distract the children from their fate. They were old stories her grandmother had told her, who herself had heard them from her own mother, who had seen Solheim with her own eyes when she had been barely more than a teenager.

Stories about the eternal flame that burned in the highest tower of the now sunken capital they were, of the songs of the sun priests and the fiery glimmer of the Emperor's crown, as he paraded through the streets.

Never did she tell the boy and his sisters of the war the Six had waged between themselves, or the day the earth shook and the sky burnt and everything that did not burn was drowned by the sea. Those were not tales for the hearts of children.

“Tell us the story about the blind woman that got locked away into the shadows by her own son,” the sun eyed daughter would demand every time her hunger was at its worst, and every time her mother would do as asked.

So their days went with hunger and thirst and stories as their companions, until finally someone came to talk to them. It wasn't a judge or a prosecutor or even an inquisitor, who came down to the dungeons, where the light was everlasting, but a girl.

Her name was Istar, daughter of the lord who reigned over the town the eastern Ostium Clan had been imprisoned in, and she came when all but the boy were asleep in their cells. What neither of them knew was that his sun eyed sister was also awake and listened to every word they said.

Apollaia, unable to sleep from worry and hunger, was startled out of her reverie of happier days, of laughter and sunshine and roughhousing in the mud, when she first heard the girl's voice.

“I think I finally managed to convince him,” Istar said, her voice pitched in a whisper that carried well trough the cells.

From the way the girl talked to Apollaia's brother, this wasn't the first time she had visited. The sun-eyed girl did not dare move, and dread filled her with every word her brother exchanged with the girl. He treated her, an outsider, a member of the people who hunted the Free People, like a friend.

“Are you sure?” the boy asked eagerly. “I would do near anything.”

“My father did not tell me what he plans to do, but he invited the priest and the judge to lunch this day and afterwards they spent hours in his study. It means that there is going to be an interrogation soon, and since you are the only people imprisoned right now, that would warrant a full questioning, he must have finally listened.”

The girl sounded so pleased with herself, and for a moment Apollaia would have loved to turn around to see what this girl looked like, but her brother spoke up again.

“Istar, that's great! I do not know how to thank you for this. Do you think if I – how did you call it? - testify, they won't harm my sister?”

“Why would my father want to do that? He's not the monster your parents try to convince you he is, you know?”

“Because she has golden eyes,” the boy whispered quietly, as if he feared the air itself could hear and betray him.

The girl gasped in shock and Apollaia did her very best not to give herself away. Her Clan had been so careful to not have those outside of their people learn of this. And now her own brother had given her greatest secret away, to people who thought her a bad omen and cursed.

The girl with the sun coloured eyes heard Kaeso, family of her family, shift in his sleep and all conversation ceased. There was only the rustling of cloth and silent footsteps on naked stone, followed by the sound of a door falling closed.

The boy came over to his favoured sister he thought sleeping, and stroked her moon coloured hair before he lay down to sleep. That night Apollaia did not sleep and when morning came everything changed.

When morning came it started with her mother's pleading as two of her children were dragged away. Apollaia did not look at her brother as they were taken out of the dungeon, for he had dealt her the worst of betrayals.

Remember: For the Ostium Clan, nothing is more important than their Clan and family, and should you be lucky enough to be counted amongst their most precious people, they will move the very earth to protect you. Steadfast, strong, dependable and true those of Clan Ostium are.

And the boy had betrayed his sister.

Both children were separated from each other and the girl with the sun coloured eyes was locked into a tiny cell, bare except for a window, and for the first time in what could have been days or weeks or months, she saw true sunlight again. She held her hands into the warm beam of light and cried in relief. Her skin had paled to the colour of the dry plains of Leide.

A sun-blessed should never be taken from the light, it is a folly that invites tragedy and fates worse than death.

She did not know for how long she was held there. Hours for certain. Sunlight wandered down the wall and over the floor and distracted her from her continuous worry over her Clan. The light had turned an afternoon bronze when the door was opened again and a man so heavily dressed in black, he could be mistaken for a shadow, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards a richly decorated room.

Carpets lay on the floor and tapestries hung from the wall, but Apollaia could not look closer, for she was pushed in front of a large table where four men sat.

Everything about them was the colour of wet sand, like it is common for those native to Leide; their hair, their eyes and their skin. Everything but their clothes.

“So this is her. Show me your eyes girl,” the one dressed as a priest of one of the Six demanded, and Apollaia was forced by the man dressed in shadows, to look at them.

Hungry and thirsty, tired and full of fear as she was, she did not struggle. For she was still nothing but a child of nine years and these were men grown.

“My daughter and the boy spoke truth,” one man, wearing the necklace of a lord, said.

And then Apollaia knew what had happened. Her brother had sold her out for his own safety and life. But she did not cry. Here she stood in the sun and as long as the sun touched her she was protected, her mother had told her every time she had been afraid. And because the moon had also given its blessing, the night could not truly harm her either.

Thus were her thoughts as she was brought back into the tiny cell where water and bread awaited her.

And that night Apollaia slept safely enclosed in the arms of the moonlight and protected by the Guardian of Dreams.

The girl with the golden eyes rose with the sun, as she always did. She had no one to pray to, neither the Six nor ancestors or spirits, but she did not know, if she would survive the day and so she thanked sun and moon for their blessing and protection before the man dressed in shadows came again to take her away.

This time she did not return to the dungeon or the decorated room, but was taken to a large town's square where four stakes had been erected upon a large pyre. Her Clan was also there, pent-up in a cage on a wagon and wrought in chains. In the sun Apollaia could see that her father's pale hair had turned grey.

Iron manacles were clasped around her wrists, ere she was locked in with her Clan. All were there, but her brother. Her mother had cried many times in the dungeon, but now here eyes were dry and her face as grim as her father's and Kaeso Khara's. Her sisters crowded around her and she knew that this would be the last time she would see Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable like the earth, and Danaia, graceful and pretty like a desert flower.

A priest – the same she had seen before – stepped in front of the crowd that hushed in exited anticipation, and spoke: “Hear, good people, of what I have to say in the name of the Gods who have spared us in their mercy, and our good Lord. We have gathered here today to see justice done against great crimes committed against our Gods. Captured here, like the animals they are, we have the heretics that refuse to see the light granted to us.”

The people in the crowd roared their agreement and slurs that shall not be repeated here, began to fly until the priest held up his hand and it grew silent again.

“Since the Fall of the great Solheim they have been a bane to our people and now it is time for them to face the consequences of their actions. It has been decided by the Gods and the Lord of our good town, that the men known as Querello Ostium and Kaeso Khara, along with the woman known as Thermis Ostium, be given the Infernian's justice and be burned at the stake.”

Apollaia could feel her mother shake, as she clutched all her daughters close to her, but her hands were steady as they carded through pale and brown hair. Thermis Ostium held her head high, for she was like all of her Clan, strong and immovable like a mountain, and no human could make her bend.

The priest continued: “The oldest among the children, the boy, has experienced the insight the Gods grant us and has renounced his name. He has sworn to follow the Astrals in all their decisions and to never stray from the path they have lain out for him. Henceforth he shall be known as Gilgamesh, servant to Bahamut the Draconian.”

Again the crowd screamed their approval, as they had with every sentence spoken. And the girl with the sun coloured eyes felt part of her heart die, as what she had feared became reality.

“The oldest girl, known as Tisiphone Ostium, shall be granted the mercy of the garotte before she, too, shall be given the Infernian's justice. The second girl, known as Apollaia Ostium, shall be freed of her curse, her eyes blinded, before she is to be given into the Hydraean's embrace. The youngest shall be given to the temple, where she is to be raised in the right ways, in the hope her tainted blood may be purged. Henceforth she shall be known as Samhat.”

Her parents, Kaeso and Apollaia's elder sister were dragged towards the pyre, and she forced herself to witness with her sun coloured eyes as the executioner stepped behind her sister, wound a cord around her neck and strangled her to death.

For the first and only time in her life Apollaia wished the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, could truly see through her eyes, so that he may burn every last person in the crowd that cheered, as Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, struggled and died. She wished they all burn as the executioner set fire to the wood of the pyre, she wished the town would turn to nothing but ashes as the heat grew unbearable and she had to avert her eyes, as her family started to scream.

She cursed the boy that had been her brother, Gilgamesh the Betrayer, as they ripped her younger sister from her arms. She prayed for the sun to rain fire as she heard her sister cry and beg, but she could do nothing.

Nothing but pray.

“Fire!” a voice suddenly called. “The town is burning!”

And as the crowd panicked, trampled the old and frail and young in their desire to flee, Apollaia knew her prayers had been answered. She stood in the cage upon the wagon and watched as thick, black smoke darkened the sky, listened as the people screamed and felt her Clan avenged.

Then she saw something strange out of the corner of her eyes. A person that did not run from the town's square, but towards her. Through the thick soot covering his face, she nearly did not recognize him. It was her cousin, Diasos Ostium.

It was him, who had lain fire to the town, when everybody had been out to see the execution like blood starved sabertusks. It was him, who had killed the guard that held the keys to her cage and the manacles, in the chaos and confusion, and it was him, who slung her over his shoulders and ran out into the plains.

They would not reach Galahd for many years to come, but that is a story for another time.

So ends the story of the boy who became Gilgamesh, told from the mouth of Apollaia Ostium herself with fire and sun as her witness.

Deafening silence reigned within the throne room.

Crowe cancelled the fire spell, a thin sheet of sweat glistered upon her forehead. Everybody other than Libertus and Pelna looked shaken and pale, especially the Galahkari.

“This cannot be true. Do you have any evidence for this, Lord Ostium?” the Lord Shield demanded, though his voice had grown hoarse.

“Evidence?” Libertus exclaimed. “I just told you one of my Clan's secrets and all you can think of is to demand evidence?!”

The Lord Shield opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked like he desperately needed to sit down and it was only his own stubbornness that kept him upright.

The King said nothing, casting his unreadable gaze over them before turning towards his Shield, worried. The Amicitia shook his head.

“True or not, I recognize that bead. It is one Gilgamesh wore,” General Leonis declared.

All this time his icy glaze had never left the bead Libertus had tied to his new battle axe with strands of long, pale hair.

That comment got everybody's attention.

“How do you know that?” Libertus demanded.

“I was a reckless kid with something to prove,” the General said like that was all the explanation needed.

“You're the one who cut his arm off,” Ladone realized.

“Yes,” was the bland reply.

Nyx fought the urge to laugh, though he could still feel his shoulders shake. The thought of his hunting-brother adopting Cor Leonis of all people, into the Ostium Clan was hilarious. Poor Libertus was probably eating his words right now. He certainly looked like it.

“This bead is an old Ostium Clan bead. The one known as Gilgamesh forsook all rights wearing them when he betrayed his family for a life in service to the Astrals,” his hunting-brother spoke, voice rough from talking for so long and his turbulent emotions.

And it was true. Beads may be plain nowadays, but both Gilgamesh's and the one Libertus wore in his hair, were made out of a green shimmering, black serpentinite. The Lord Shield made a sound as if he were choking.

“My line comes directly from his. It is his teachings we strife to follow and to archive. We protect those we swore ourselves to.”

“I know,” Libertus asserted, voice and face solemn now. “If things had been different we may have been Clan.”

Something passed between the two men. Something that felt like silent understanding. Nyx couldn't understand it. But then, he thought, the Ostium and the Amicitia may not be one Clan or the same people anymore, but they were still of the same blood. And blood held its own kind of power.

“You succeeded at the trials, I can feel it,” the Lord Shield declared.

“And what if I did?” Libertus wanted to know, teeth bared in a parody of a grin. It twisted his taped wound grotesquely.

“It makes you a royal Shield to the ones you swore to protect,” he said.

The Amicitia looked at Nyx and sketched a bow of respect. Nyx gaped in surprise. What the fuck? Clarus Amicitia had always been one of the more distrusting people against them, though he came from a source of worry about his charge. Which was better than most others, but still a pain in the ass.

“This has certainly been very enlightening. Thank you, Shield Ostium, for your trust-” Nyx really wanted to snort at this one. Being pressured into telling a secret had nothing to do with trust- “and I thank you, King Ulric, for your honesty and your patience with us. If all are in agreement, we will adjourn for today and come together to negotiate at a later date. We all should take this opportunity to rest and ponder what we have learned.”

“Of course, your Majesty. Thank you,” Nyx said with a nod and following an impulse, he raised his right hand towards his left collarbone in a Galahdian greeting, one hunter to another, before turning around and marching out of the throne room.

He could hear the others following him in silence. Curious eyes followed them until they were back in Little Galahd.

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Nox (pt 1)

(Another time-travel AU except this time it’s totally accidental on Noctis’s part. Noctis winds up looking like a thirteen year old in a time where his past self still exists and is only six so now everyone he meets who has seen Regis when he was young is convinced that “Nox” is Regis’s oops baby. And oh yeah, Ardyn is along for the ride because the afterlife was boring and life as the Uncle to the kid who’s going to rewrite history sounded much more fun. Cid, despite being oblivious to the time-travel, needs a drink. Or a paycheck. Because seriously he’s getting too old to deal with Lucis Caelum Weirdness™. Tagging @wolfsrainrules even though you’ve seen this before I think. Tentatively tagging @sparklecryptid because this is the story the adopted Axis-as-Clarus’s kid idea will be showing up in so you might find it interesting.)

     It started with reports of Niflheim bases in Lucis suddenly going up in flames one by one, all torn apart as if by some contained natural disaster. Theories dotted the news reports and images of the destruction consumed the news channels. But none of that really mattered to Cid anymore. He had retired from the war, from worrying about the war, years ago —and maybe if he told himself that enough he’d stop caring, stop looking toward Insomnia and wondering—. So he did his best to keep his ear to the ground for news of trouble coming his way, but otherwise ignored the theories and the rumors —wrath of the Astrals, new Nif super weapon gone wrong, a new weapon from Lucis—. It wasn’t his business anymore. Wasn’t his problem.

     But that’s what he’d said to himself the first time an idiot prince and his entourage had wheezed in, pushing the beautiful car they had so badly mistreated into his tiny, then-unknown gas and repair station. So really, he should have expected life to laugh in his face and drop trouble right in his lap in the form of a too-thin teenager skulking around Takka’s place looking to grab some Hunts, his cheeks just a touch too hollow to be healthy. Cid took one look at the sharp blue eyes the same color as armiger magic, the shaggy black hair tied back in a sloppy tail, the high cheekbones and long fingers —more like a piano player’s than a fighter’s, meant for more delicate work than carving up monsters— fiddling with the tattered hem of his shirt and swore.

     He’d always warned Reggie that his “nights out”, however infrequent they were, would someday come back to bite. He just hadn’t expected it to come bite Cid first —he should have though, should have known better than to think that Reggie’s mishaps wouldn’t spill over into Cid’s life, not since that first time he’d realized that if they’d need a mechanic to come along if they were ever going to survive to Altissia—.

     The boy startled at the sound of Cid’s cursing, backed away with a flicker of borderline panic on his face, like he was ready to bolt the moment Cid did anything more than curse and Cid’s tirade trailed off with a sigh. He looked the fidgeting kid up and down and struggled not to curse again. The kid’s clothes were too large on his frame, once high quality but now worn and so scruffy they’d probably come out of a giveaway bin, he had a pair of battered kukri with coeurl teeth dangling from them strapped to the small of his back as his only weapons, and he was definitely too small to be wandering around on his own. Cid wouldn’t peg the boy’s age over fifteen. Probably thirteen, if he was being optimistic about the kid’s weight and health.

     Cid rubbed a hand over his face, aware that the kid was about five seconds from bolting, and grumbled, “Settle down, boy. Ah don’t bite.”

     The boy stilled, but his shoulders were still rigid. Cid lowered his hand and came to a snap decision, “Ah ain’t gonna ask where yer parents are or why yer looking to get yer fool self killed takin’ on Hunts. But Ah do want to know yer name.”

     Blue eyes assessed him for some kind of trap, wild and wary in a way that made the father and grandfather in Cid’s heart hurt, “…Nox.”

     Cid narrowed his eyes, “No last names where ya come from, boy?” The question might be too much, the boy might bolt rather than answer, but assuming the boy still used his mother’s name … Cid needed to know which of Regis’s “nights out” had created this situation.

     A look of blank surprise and panic flickered over the boy’s face and the floor suddenly seemed very interesting to the kid, “Uh… It’s-, I-,” the boy glanced up at him in search of mercy, Cid just raised an eyebrow and channeled every ounce of stern parental impatience he’d learned from raising Mid —and Cor and Clarus and Regis for all the idiots would deny it—. The kid crumbled under his look, “Izunia,” the boy blurted, “It’s Izunia.” Takka made a strangled noise and a moment later the kid looked like he’d just admitted to the mass murder of puppies. Cid suddenly felt very glad that the place was empty save for himself and Takka at this hour of the morning. Because of course it would be Izunia. Of course it would. Of course Reggie had somehow found an unknown relative of the Chancellor of Niflheim to have a fling with. Because it had to have been an actual relative, the kid wouldn’t look like he wanted to gag himself and jump off a cliff if it was just a coincidence.

     Cid needed a drink.

     But first, he need to keep Reggie’s kid from running off into the wilderness like a scared chocobo, “Ya came here lookin’ for work, boy?”

     The kid paused in his frantic inching for the exit, no doubt startled by the question rather than profanities and accusations, “Um… yes. A- I came to pick up a Hunt.”

     Cid snorted, “With those scrawny arms of yers? Ya’d be a toothpick for the first thing ya came across that was bigger than a rat.” Panic faded in favor of an insulted expression and Cid waved the kid toward the back door, “Come with me, Ah could use an extra pair of hands in the garage.”

     Cid took several steps toward the door, then looked over his shoulder at where Nox was still standing with a baffled expression, “Well? Ya want work or not?”

     “…I’m not much of a mechanic.”

     Cid snorted, “Don’t have to be. Ya just gotta lift stuff and put it down where Ah tell ya. Maybe sweep out garage too, if ya think ya can handle a broom.”

     After a long moment of incredulous staring, the too-small boy with Reggie’s features and the Niflheim Chancellor’s last name shuffled after him.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Thirteen

A/n: This chapter is just a filler one and takes place mainly on the boat. I tried to cut down on the dialogue, but there's still tons of it in this chapter. Feel free to skip it! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

A couple days later, the royal retinue returned to Cape Caem. They'd taken on a handful of hunts while they were in Lestallum in order to get some more gil before heading to Altissia.

Arriving back at Cape Caem, the group decided to rest for the remainder of the day and depart for Altissia in the morning. Gladio ate the lunch Iris offered him and his friends before heading upstairs to one of the vacant rooms. Recently, he'd been needing more time to himself due to what transpired in the nightmare. Ever since the moment he was about to kiss (Y/n) two days ago in the nightmare, it hadn't returned and his sleep was peaceful.

Every now and then, Gladio would check his pocket to make sure he still had the summoning orb. Even more often, he would try to summon (Y/n). Unfortunately, she heeded none of his calls, but that didn't stop him from trying. He wanted to apologize for his careless question and reestablish the bond he had with her.

Gladio eyes the summoning orb in his palm just as the door to the room opened. Iris entered and noticed what her brother's attention was fixed on. "Hey, Gladdy. Noctis told me (Y/n) wasn't with you guys anymore. What happened?"

"I wasn't thinking and opened my big mouth," he confessed. "I wanted to explain, but she stormed off before I could. Haven't seen her since."

"I know (Y/n) has a temper, but she's usually good about listening to others. What you said must've really made her mad."

"I pretty much deserve a punch to the face for what I said."

Iris sighed, "Well, at least you're honest. I'd gladly punch you in the face for (Y/n)'s sake. You really don't think before you say some things, Gladdy. And now, you've hurt someone because of it."

"I know..." Gladio mumbled sorrowfully. "I want to make this right, but (Y/n)'s ignoring me."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Give her some time. I'm sure she'll come back."

"Hope you're right about that, Iris."

"You know I am!" She smiled confidently.

Gladio followed his sister out of the room and walked down the stairs. He walked out of the house and froze when he saw Ignis chatting with an ivory-haired girl. He sauntered over, wondering who the mysterious girl was.

Hearing his footsteps, the girl spun around and offered him a smile. "Ah, you must be Gladio. A pleasure to meet you."

The shield glanced between the two and noticed how polite the girl was when she spoke. He grinned, crossing his arms. "Didn't know there was a female version of Iggy out there."

"Gladio," Ignis chided.

"It's all right, Ignis," the violet-eyed girl said. "I am Pestilence. War asked me to check in with your companions when they went to the Vesperpool while you sought to fight against Gilgamesh."

Hearing she was one of the Four Horsemen, Gladio asked about the redhead. "Think you could send (Y/n) my way?"

"She told me what happened between the two of you," Pestilence stated. "However, I believe she needs more time to clear her head. She will come when you call once she's settled the turmoil in her heart."

"Damn..." Gladio scratched the back of his head. "I fucked up royally."

"Time is what she needs most of now, but please do not give up on her. Ever since joining your group, she has changed for the better. She is more lively and joyful."

"Trust me, I won't give up on her."

Pestilence nodded. "Thank you for understanding, Gladio." She them clapped her hands together. "Now then, I should be leaving. I've still my own target to hunt. I wish you all well in Altissia."

"We do appreciate your assistance," Ignis said.

"I'm glad I could be of service. Farewell."

Gladio and Ignis watched the girl as she vanished in a puff of smoke before heading back to the house to recuperate from their many hunts for the rest of the day.

<------------<<<<<

Once morning rolled around, Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were ready to depart for Altissia. They ride the elevator in the lighthouse down to a basement area in a seaside cave. They exited the elevator and made their way to the hidden harbor where the boat waited for them.

In the makeshift living room stood Talcott, Iris, Cid and Cor. The little boy shouted excitedly as he addressed Noctis. "Look, Prince Noctis! Even the marshal came to say goodbye!"

When Noctis and his companions reach the bottom of the stairs, Cor spoke up. "Something I gotta get off my chest."

"What's that?" The raven-haired boy questioned.

A somewhat melancholic expression washed over the marshal's face. "I'm sorry. Sorry I wasn't there for your father. I swore an oath to protect the king, but I wasn't strong enough to uphold it."

"Ain't nothin' nobody could've done to stop what happened," Cid interjected himself into the conversation.

"Yeah, I realize that," Noctis said.

"But you need to realize just what you mean to the boys by your side."

He nodded. "I do."

Cid glanced towards Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis. "Even if they can't solve your problems, you can't hide what's goin' on from 'em. It hurts like hell. Remember-those ain't your bodyguards, they're your brothers. Trust in 'em. Always."

Noctis looked towards his closest friends in silence, clinging to what Cid said. He kept those words in mind as he, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis boarded the boat. Cid followed shortly after, heading towards the helm and starting the engine. Gradually, the sea vessel pulls away from the dock.

From the dock, Talcott and Iris watch the boat leave. The young boy suddenly shouts out to Noctis. "Hey! Your Majesty!"

Noctis walks toward the railing of the boat and met Talcott's gaze. "What's up?"

"Please come back soon! We need our king!"

Noctis nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah. Count on it."

Talcott and Iris wave goodbye and Noctis waves back.

The boat leaves Cape Caem and soon entered open waters. The gleaming water of the vast ocean greeted them, the sun's warm rays bouncing off the surface. Prompto, who was sitting on the cushy bench, sighed in content as the wind blew through his blonde locks. "Y'know, I've always wanted to go sailing like this."

"Not many opportunities living in Insomnia," Gladio stated.

"Out here, it's just us and the horizon! It's amazing-it's life changing!"

"We've quite a ways to go until we reach Altissia, so keep gushing to your heart's content," Ignis said.

Prompto leaned back against the bench. "When we step off the boat, we'll be in a foreign country."

"The anticipation alone is a foreign sensation."

"And to think this is where we were headed to begin with," Gladio chimed in.

"We've been through a lot," Noctis stated.

"And there's still more to come," the advisor added.

"So next on the docket is Leviathan," the blonde said.

Gladio turned his gaze out towards the sea, remembering the image of Leviathan from the nightmare. "A giant serpent, huh?"

"How'd you know that?" Noctis asked.

Realizing his mistake, the shield turned around and tried to keep from explaining the nightmare. "Have you already forgotten? (Y/n) was a queen who was once in the same position as you. She might've mentioned a thing or two about Leviathan."

"Oh, right..." Prompto muttered. He looked away from the brute with a knowing expression. "Too bad we can't ask for her help because a certain someone chased her off..."

The shield glowered at him. "I didn't chase her off."

"Hey, you said something that made her mad," Noctis said. "So, you kinda did chase her off."

Seeing no point in arguing, Gladio crossed his arms. "Even if she was here, you'd still have to face Leviathan on your own."

"She could've given me a few pointers."

The conversation continued on as Prompto changed the subject from (Y/n) to Lady Lunafreya. Noctis and Ignis also chatted of the Oracle while Gladio casted his gaze back out across the sea. When hearing the subject of their conversation move to the Ring of Lucii and how Lunafreya got her hands on it, he wondered how War was able to control the Crystal of Vanaheim. Unlike her kingdom, Lucis used the ring to harness the Crystal's power. Now he had even more questions he wanted to ask her.

"The ring is important, and so is Leviathan-but Luna comes first," Noctis said.

"You know, I was thinking back to our encounter with Ravus," Ignis confessed.

"Hmm?" The raven-haired boy hummed.

"Do you recall an apparatus in place of his arm?" The strategist asked.

It was then Gladio rejoined the conversation. "Yeah, I remember."

"Seems he lost his old one in the invasion. But in its place, he seems to have acquired new power."

"Power?" Noctis parroted.

"That would help explain how a son of Tenebrae suddenly came to command Niflheim's army," Gladio said.

"Now that you mention it, his strength did seems sorta...supernatural. I just chalked it up to the Oracle lineage," Prompto stated.

"His ancestry may be part of it, but that alone wouldn't account for his freakish strength."

Noctis' eyes narrowed as he mumbled, "I wonder what could've happened to him?"

"There's a disturbing rumor about. Lord Ravus has taken to brandishing His Majesty's sword," Ignis informed the group.

"My dad's?"

"And what's the big idea behind that?" Gladio inquired with a faint growl.

"That his power's the same as the power of kings?" Prompto wondered.

"I cannot say for sure, but I have my doubts. Ravus wears the sword, yet does not wield it," the strategist answered.

"For all his newfound powers, he's still the chancellor's lapdog...holding on to the enemy king's sword like some badge of honor," Gladio spat in disdain.

"It might help if we knew what he was after." Prompto's eyes widen as he recalls what (Y/n) told them after encountering Ravus at Aracheole Stronghold. "Hey, didn't (Y/n) say something about the empire wanting to control the monsters from the Inner Sanctum?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Noctis asked.

"Do you think the two are connected? Y'know, the sword and the monsters."

"It's difficult to say," Ignis stated.

"We probably would know more if (Y/n) were here," the blonde sighed.

"Seriously," Noctis groaned.

Gladio glared at the two younger boys. "You two aren't gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"Never," Prompto cackled.

Gladio rolled his eyes, tuning out the conversation once again. He pulled out the Vanaheim coin from his pocket and admired as the crystal reflected the sun. Even the black symbol engraved on the coin was shiny. Unbeknownst to the shield, the others ceased talking when seeing what was in his hand.

Noctis was the first to ask. "What's that?"

"A coin from Vanaheim. (Y/n) said it was the currency her kingdom used." Gladio lifted his gaze from the coin and tossed it towards him.

Noctis caught the coin and examined it closely. "Damn, this is what they used to pay for things?"

Prompto peered down at the coin with sparkling eyes. "It's so pretty!"

"Where did you get this?" Ignis pried.

"Gilgamesh had it. Apparently, some of (Y/n)'s ancestors sought him out to test their own skills," Gladio explained. "He also said the queen and this coin are all that remains of Vanaheim."

"Well that's...sad," Noctis muttered.

"But what about the second Crystal?" Prompto asked. "It's gotta be in one piece if (Y/n)'s still able to use its power, right?"

"If you wanna try and find it by swimming to the deepest parts of the ocean, be my guest, Blondie. But I don't think you'll make it far," Gladio said. "Y'know, with the water pressure and lack of sunlight."

"Although the Crystal of Vanaheim is still actively being used by (Y/n), it is out of reach. No one could possibly reach the depths and claim it," Ignis claimed.

Noctis gave the coin back to Gladio and all went silent for a few minutes until Prompto began to whine. "Are we there yet?"

Gladio arched a brow in bewilderment. "Didn't you just say you always wanted to go sailing?"

"Yeah, but all this ocean gets kinda bland after a while."

"Last time I checked it was "amazing" and "life-changing.""

Eventually, Cid spoke up after being silent since they left Cape Caem. He kept his eyes focused on the ocean ahead while sparking up a conversation with Noctis. "So, soon you'll have yer old man's ring back."

Noctis nodded. "Yeah. When we arrive in Altissia."

"Good thing. To him, it was his heritage."

"Is that what my dad said?"

"Carrying a royal line ain't a task to be taken lightly. For a small thing, that ring can sure weigh heavy. After he became king, I only ever saw his face in the paper."

"Wait-weren't you at the coronation?" Gladio asked.

Cid shook his head. "Nah, I was long gone from the city."

"Must've been invited at least," the raven-haired boy commented.

"Had a fallin' out o' sorts with your old man. Right at the end of the trip."

Prompto blinked in shock. "You did?"

"I was given to understand you stayed in touch," Ignis said.

"We buried the hatchet years later, but never talked face to face again. Shoulda paid a visit while I had the chance. Well, no use dwellin' on it now. Got the Regalia in the hold, but y'all gonna stay in Altissia for a good while, right?" Cid inquired.

"Yes, we believe so," the strategist replied.

"In that case, I'll tune her up for y'all. Not that I'll have much to do, though, what with Cindy lookin' after the old girl."

"If you say she's good, she must be great," Prompto stated.

"She was never afraid o' hard work. Heaven knows she had a hard childhood."

"A hard childhood"?" The marksman reiterated.

"He means her parents," Gladio clarified.

"Lost 'em both when she was little. Was big enough to understand, though...an' to hurt. But ya wouldn't guess that, seein' her now," Cid explained.

"Not at all. She's always so cheerful," Prompto said.

"Well, that oughta tell ya how far she's come."

Another silence befell the group. Gladio, wishing to slay the tranquility, spoke to Cid. "Man, you must have seen your fair share of Altissia by now."

"Yeah... Only done been the once. Stayed a good while, though," the old man stated.

Prompto was curious about the city and asked, "What's it like?"

"Big ol' city."

Noctis was slightly amused by his response. ""Big." Okay."

"Well, it ain't the Crown City."

""Different." Got it."

"You'll see for yourself: foreign lands seldom lend themselves to trite explanations," Ignis said.

"Change o' scenery oughta do you good," Cid claimed.

Gladio crosses his arms with a huff. "Well, I'm all talked out. Can't be far to Altissia now, right?"

"We'll be there in no time. Nice having the wind at our backs."

"Lodgings are our first order of business," Ignis stated matter-of-factly.

"All work and no play..." Prompto began.

"Makes Ignis a dull boy," Noctis finished.

Gladio glanced between the two younger boys. "Someone has to babysit you two."

"And you're welcome to sleep in the wild," the advisor added.

"Ain't no hotel, but I know a fella has a place," Cid spoke up. "Weskham-ran with Reggie and me way back when."

Prompto's curiosity blossomed. "Oh, was he the other one in that photo at the garage?"

"Yep. Runs himself a diner or café or somethin'. Go and see for yourselves."

"Sure," Noctis replied.

"Does the place have a name?" Gladio pondered.

Cid thought for a few seconds before a few names came to mind. ""Magee"? Or "Magoo"? Or-"Maagho," that's the one."

"Nice," the raven-haired boy commented.

"You can count on ol' Wes. He'll chew your ears off."

Suddenly, the radio turns on as the boat enters the waterway leading into Altissia. "The government issued a statement promising that the reasons behind awakening the Hydraean would be clarified in the ceremonial address. Delivering the address will be Lady Lunafreya, who was previously reported dead. This will mark her first public appearance since the violence that befell the signing ceremony."

Prompto had been listening to the broadcast. "Lady Lunafreya's gonna give a speech?"

"Sounds like it," Gladio said.

"Lord knows-this world could use some wisdom," Cid sighed.

"Won't be much longer now, Noct," Ignis stated.

Noctis nodded with a small smile. "Yeah."

The boat pulls up to a guard who stands along the waterway. Cid shows him the entry permit for the vessel and the guard approved. He then drives the boat on ahead and heads towards the dock. There, he carefully docks the boat and everyone hops off. They make their way toward the city, but were stopped when arriving at a customer queue. Noctis walks up to where some gatekeepers await and was stopped by one. "Sir! What is the purpose of your visit?"

Noctis was taken aback. "Purpose? Uh..."

"They're with me," a cheerful voice proclaimed.

Prompto recognizes the voice immediately and beamed happily. "You're here!"

The gatekeeper let them through while Cid returned to the boat. Famine smiled at the marksman once they entered the city. "War told us you'd be arriving in Altissia soon. Knowing what the empire is planning, we put our hunts aside to help you."

"Uh, "us"?" Noctis parroted. "Does that mean..."

She nodded. "Death, Pestilence, and War are also in the city."

"You four sure are everywhere," Gladio commented.

"Well, nice to know we won't be alone," Noctis said.

"I'm quite familiar with Altissia," Famine said. "What's your first course of action?"

"To secure lodging," Ignis answered.

"Then let's head to the Leville first."

The royal retinue followed the Horseman through the bustling streets of Altissia. It was a short walk to the hotel and Ignis was able to secure a room for them. Once they settled in their room, they headed to the lobby where Famine was patiently waiting for them. Prompto was the fastest out of the group to make his way over to the emerald-eyed girl.

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis saw him ask her something, but they weren't exactly sure what until they pried. "What're you two plannin'?" The shield questioned.

"I-I was simply asking her if she could give a me a tour of Altissia later," Prompto responded with a faint blush.

"Which I happily agreed to. But for now, where do you all need to go next?" Famine inquired.

"You familiar with a place called Maagho?" Noctis responded with his own question.

"Yep! Follow me!"