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rebeccka · 27 days ago

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Miseria - Caleb

AU: What if...?

You wanted nothing to do with them.

Synopsis: Six different timelines. In each one you find yourself taking over the life of an extra in the game you had been so smitten with. In each life you’re different, whether it’s a different job, or where you live and even your personality. But only one thing remains constant, you’re determined to avoid them. You’re not in the body of the MC so it’s not like they’ll even notice.

You really shouldn’t have underestimated them.

MC | Zayne | Sylus | Xavier | Rafayel

TW/Tags: breakups, angst, reader is a widow and single mother (so mentions of pregnancy and some sentences on the effects of it but I’m not going deep into it otherwise we’d be here all day), death, loss of a loved one/minor character, grieving, there is a child in this I’m sorry, stalking, plus size reader, suggestive content (16+), forced second chances, small mention of drink spiking, pseudo-incest? (I hated even typing that out but it’s literally part of MC and Caleb’s dynamic), yandere caleb, possessiveness, obsession, implications of child abuse, small mentions of Caleb and MC’s past, sabotage, forced kissing, threats against a pregnant lady (not you), unrequited love, implied future non-con/babytrapping, forced marriage, dead dove do not eat

WC: 14.3K

Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a yandere work. The character's personalities have become dramatised as a result. This is not what I think of them at all even as yanderes, it's just for pure indulgence. MC in the boys chapters is not the same one in her's, she's just generic but she will always be a friend (not in this one though). This is not a safe space for MC haters. If you don't like any of this then don't read.

Caleb is very out of character in this. I cannot emphasise this enough.

One moment you’re relaxing on your bed - your own way of celebrating that you had aced your job interview and landed your first big job which made those hell years at uni all worth it - the next you’re standing in someone else’s bathroom.

The sudden change leaves you disoriented but even with the room spinning around you, you still take notice of your appearance in the mirror. The air is humid and the mirror itself is foggy. Someone clearly took a shower. That’s when you feel the water drip down from your head, you reach to touch your hair and look in shock at the liquid on your fingertips. It was you that did. The realisation doesn’t make sense. You had just been on your bed, how did you get here?

You reach for the corners of the sink, an attempt to ground yourself, making sure to take deep breaths. It works, you find yourself calming down. The shakiness in your arms starts to disappear and the thundering of your heart slows down to simple rainfall.

Lifting your head back up you concentrate on the woman in the mirror. She looks just like you, the same scars and blemishes adorn her, her mouth creases the same way yours does when you smile, she has every single one of your features. So, then why does she feel like an imposter?

Perhaps it’s the differences you’ve started to notice. You’re not sure of her age but she looks more mature than you. It’s in her eyes, very clear that she had experience you had yet to gain. Her body feels weird too, it’s the exact same as yours though, thick thighs, flabby arms and a round stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this sluggish. She’s exhausted. You lift the pyjama shirt to examine deeper. She has stretch marks, around her thighs, leading up to the stomach and even in the corner of her breasts, just like you did. It happens from excess skin but the marks on her stomach are deeper than they had been on yours.. There’s a scar on the lower stomach, a line. It’s faded but still visible, when you reach to touch it - you don’t feel it much.

Oh.

In a panic, you leave the bathroom desperate to run away and find help. But then the pain comes in your head. You find yourself on your knees clutching your head as you groan in anguish.

Flashes of white hit you, whispers and sensations.

Memories, you realise.

The next time, you wake up on the bedroom floor unsure of how much time has passed.

You’re much calmer this time. You’re not her but you are. She has your name, you’re the same age and have the same birthday but you have lived different lives. You remember every detail of her life even the moment she was born. You remember her happy moments, her sad ones and the ones so painful she bottled them away. You remember that she had fallen in love twice, each one ending in pain. You remember as she discovered her pregnancy and raised a child with the man she continues to love but it’s just her and the child now.

More than that, you’ve realised you’re in a fictional world. One you had grown to love. That had been crafted for the characters you adored in it.

Your favourite had been the purple-eyed childhood friend but as you recall her memories, you want nothing but to pummel him to the ground. Your heart twists with the ache she has memorised in relation to him.

“I don’t understand why I have to go,” you whine to your best friend, wrapping yourself around her.

She throws you off her shoulder. “Because you’re the president!” she tugs at your cheek. “I can’t believe someone so lazy as you was picked!”

Pen is only joking with you. Your vice president is aware that despite your affinity to laze around, you’re the best for the job. The year before you had been chosen, you had created and implemented a program at Skyhaven University. One simple yet invaluable. The name for it was simple, ‘TELL’. Not an acronym. A website focused on anonymity, where students could go and ask for anything. Whether it was advice, or help with winning over a professor or with assignments. Responses would come from students themselves.

The site was heavily monitored and every resource on it was free. The fees required to keep it running were taken care of by the donation you had received from the competition. The one you had entered before when you were still in high school. You had run a similar website back then but on a much smaller scale, only between your class. You documented everything, the good and the ugly. But no one could deny the benefit it brought, in just a few months differences could be seen. Assignments were done with ease, morale was up and your class? You all became so close that you all still regularly meet up.

No one was shocked when you won the competition and that was when you garnered the attention of several universities but the one in Skyhaven paid the best. You sold the idea to them for an amount that would ensure your grandkid’s grandkids would be taken care of. You got a nice scholarship and instant admission into your desired course with the added bonus of taking care of the site until you graduated.

The program had been running for a few months before you started university, so you had attention on you when you did. Your first year had been amazing but no one told you popularity could be so tiring. Only you were shocked to learn you had been elected the president of the student council for the next year.

You didn’t even know there was one. Wasn’t it only a thing in high school?

You had every intention to decline - it was too much work - but Pen had convinced you otherwise. As your oldest friend, she had flashed those puppy eyes at you knowing it would work. She’s an art student, her sculptures are ethereal. As revenge you recommended her for vice president. It backfired because she actually enjoys her job.

It’s 6AM in the morning. You have two hours to set up for the annual orientation day. It’s a day meant for all those who are new. The one you attended last year was dull. That won’t happen this year.

As tradition, all organisations have a booth but you had personally collaborated with each one to ensure everything would go smoothly, making recommendations to tweak their set up. There was already buzz about the event due to the meticulous posters that you commissioned an actual graphic designer for and not the sweet but very tired/underpaid receptionist who had simply slapped the words ‘Orientation Day’ in a fancy font and called it a day. There will be a variety of food stands, suitable for all diets. There was a stage where clubs were welcome to show off their talents and so much more. The hope was that the event would last the entire day with the goal of collecting donations.

You spend the next two hours simply going around and making sure everything is organised.

When the time on your watch shows 7:58AM, you and Pen wait with bated breath. “It’ll be okay,” she assures you. You nod back.

To your relief students flood the area right on time. “There’s so many of them,” Pen whispers to you in awe. The two of you grin at each other. It would be nice to set a precedent.

It was the longest he had been away from her. The two of them had a tearful goodbye before he boarded the train to Skyhaven. Even with his friends chatting his ear off as they make their way through the crowd to the stage, all he can think about is her.

Is she eating okay? Does she miss him as much as he misses her?

He hopes the answer is yes.

His thinking is cut off by the sudden lights on the stage. A figure steps on the stage.

“Welcome to Orientation Day, everyone!” the girl speaks normally into the mic with a bright grin on her face.

Cheers erupt all around him but all he can focus on is the girl.

You’re wearing a simple white shirt with the logo of the university and blue jeans. The only accessory is the watch on your wrist. Such simple clothing yet you make it look priceless. You introduce yourself. He watches as you explain the event and as you lay out all activities available. He drinks in your laugh, your smile and any mannerisms.

After telling everyone to relax and have fun, you walk off the stage. He keeps his gaze on your figure until you disappear into the crowd. A nudge to his side demands his attention.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Gideon asks him.

“Huh…?” he clears his throat. “...I guess.”

It just might be the biggest lie he’s told. You’re unlike anything he’s ever seen but shame eats him up inside at the thoughts. How could he easily forget her, even if just for a moment?

Gideon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. You never find anyone attractive.”

It’s true. All his life his attention has only been on one woman. He’s never even glanced at another simply walking by, never cared for any of the celebrities his friends go crazy over so what changed now?

He brushes it off. It’s just a one time thing, he soothes himself. You’ll never see her again.

Not even ten minutes later he’s face to face with you.

“What did you want to sign up for?” you ask him with a smile. The words and gesture don’t mean anything to you, you’ve been repeating it to those looking to sign up for the activities available but the simple act might just be his ruin.

You can’t help the amusement shining in your eyes as the boy in front of you struggles to speak. His ears are tinted pink as he realises it too. You give him a patient smile and look him over. You’re not one to care much for romance despite the line of suitors you’ve acquired (yeah, you’re not humble about it either) but the boy is cute. The bright rays of the sun bring attention to all the freckles on his face. It takes everything to not lose yourself in his eyes, the purple a shade that reminds you of the same galaxies you had ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over as a child. You’re sure if you search deep in them, you’ll find speckles of gold resembling the stars.

Over the years, you’ve found that you don’t really have a type. On the rare occasions you happen to develop a crush - which never seem to last more than a week - each person had been different. You’ve met a variety of people over the course of your life but none have captured your interest this quick. Or even managed to make your heart beat fast like he was.

His friend throws an arm around his shoulder. “We’d like to join the basketball game happening,” the friend grins at you while the other boy looks away.

You pick up the tablet and bring up the list. “Sure, I’ll need your names.”

“I’m Gideon and this is Caleb. You’ll have to excuse my friend here, he’s shy,” Gideon reaches up to ruffle Caleb’s hair. Said man groans and swats his hand away.

“All done! I hope you enjoy yourselves today,” it shouldn’t please you so much as both of them fluster at the smile you send them. “My contact details are on TELL if you ever need help with anything.” You have to say this to all new students as the president but this is the only occasion where you hope it happens.

Becoming all too aware of the long line behind them, the two boys walk away but not before Caleb takes one last glance at you, one that you don’t see. Which might be a good thing since you don’t see the dark expression he wears as you converse with another man with the same smile you had given him.

A few months go by after that. Orientation day had been successful. Even though they had been optional, the donations received should fund the TELL website for an extra year and should still have some leftover.

The boy with the name Caleb takes refuge in the back of your mind and refuses to leave. It’s frustrating pining over a man you met once and it’s so unlike you. There’s nothing you can do about the need to see him again as the second year of your course only gets more complicated and your other responsibilities only add to the stress you’re slowly accumulating. Any free time is gone and your precious sleep was the first to be compromised, something that leaves you different. Gone is the laid back girl you used to be, you’ve been replaced with someone who snaps at the smallest thing. Your relaxed smile has been switched with a frown. You’ve become your worst enemy.

A grump.

The changes in you have started to affect those around you as well. You still feel guilty that you had shouted at Pen over a small mistake, you had apologised like crazy straight after but Pen hadn’t even been mad. Instead she fretted over you, asking if everything was alright. You don’t deserve her but her concern was valid.

You detest shouting. In the decade you’ve been friends, Pen has never seen you raise your voice, not even once.

“[Name], they’re expecting too much from you,” she had held you in her arms as you cried. “How the fuck do they expect one person to do all this?” That was when she had gotten angry, when she looked over your bullet points of everything you had to get done before the month was over. Again, you don’t deserve her.

After confiding in her a little more and with lots of reassurances from her that you weren’t weak for “giving up”, you held a meeting with the rest of the student body. They agreed to shoulder some of the responsibility for you and for the first time in months, you slept through the whole night. Have you mentioned you don’t deserve Pen?

It took a while for you to go back to your original self but no one could deny the ease that rolls off you now. The magnetic pull in you that draws in anyone within radius.

As president, another thing you had to do was keep up appearances. If students and staff don’t actively see for themselves you running around, then it doesn’t matter how much you accomplish, they’ll label you as lazy. So, the fact that you’ve been cooped up inside for the last few months wasn’t ideal.

Luckily an easy fix is something that happens every night without fail. Parties. The campus guidelines state that no parties can be held on the grounds without a member of the student council present.

You volunteered for the one tonight and Pen offered to join as well. Since you’re on supervising duty, you can’t drink anything. Which is probably for the best, the president before you ended up getting spiked and shoved into a closet so the rest of the party could let loose. Such extensive measures weren’t needed, you were all meant to be there so the university could look good, not actually intervene.

Your eardrums might just rupture from the loud bass music playing as you and Pen approach the building. There are people lingering outside on the lawn, groups talking to each other and some failing to walk straight. They all greet you as you pass by and you respond to each.

A drink is shoved in your hands as soon as you enter. “Drink with us Prez!” a drunk boy yells at you. You raise the plastic cup to your lips and pretend to take a sip, the boy cheers completely unaware of your trickery. As a formality you remind him to be careful and walk away, dumping the cup on a random table.

Pen gives you a subtle nudge. “That guy’s been staring at you since you entered,” she gives a quick nod in a direction. Your gaze moves to the area and you halt as your eyes meet violet ones. The block you had put up in an attempt to ignore how those eyes made you feel collapses in on itself. Heat creeps down your body and settles down between your thighs at the intensity of his gaze.

Caleb did not want to go to the party. His resolve didn’t weaken no matter how much Gideon begged him. Normally he would be down but he had an early class and the material was important. All Gideon had to say was that you would be there for Caleb to change his mind. To his frustration, Gideon had caught onto Caleb’s…whatever it was he had with you and he never failed to remind him of it.

Caleb had only seen you once after your first meeting. You didn’t notice him, too busy trying to get to your destination but he took notice of you. Of your exhausted state. He felt the need to stop you and demand why you looked so fatigued. He wanted nothing more than to usher you back to bed with force if needed but instead he willed himself to walk away.

Over the last few months he had a mental list forming in his head with every single detail he learnt about you. Any information learnt came from the mouth of others. You are spectacular, shining so brightly amongst them all. He should stay away, he knows that, but he can’t. He’ll apologise for it later.

Because he knows it won’t last.

It feels like eternity waiting for you to arrive. He watches the clock and counts every second. Numerous people come up to him but he pays attention to none. They all wonder why his gaze keeps drifting to the entrance. When you enter, his eyes are on you. He downs the beer in his hand and crushes the cup in his hand at the way you look. You don’t notice the desire in the eyes of all those who greet you, their every action tainted with corruption.

You’re wearing a simple black dress that ends at your thighs. Nothing extravagant or noteworthy. Except for the fact that it’s you wearing it. The dress moves up slightly with every step you take and he can see the safety shorts underneath. He doesn’t know you wore them to prevent any chafing or that you rubbed baby powder in your inner thighs just in case. You’re wearing shoes with a short heel, for practicality reasons he’s sure but he can’t help appreciate how well they compliment your legs.

You look much better than you did the last time. Well rested and more put together. Part of him is glad for it and the other disappointed that it had not been him who helped you.

The redhead that has been by your side tries to subtly tell you about him but he notices. He has plenty of time to look away and pretend otherwise but instead he keeps his gaze with you. Caleb delights in the way your eyes widen, just a little. You turn to whisper something in your friend’s ear, she nods at you and walks away and in turn you approach him.

“Caleb, right?” you ask him. He doesn’t know that you don’t need an answer and you don’t know that you’ve ignited something in him simply by saying his name. Your lips covered in a shiny gloss look so pretty when they say his name.

“Yeah.”

You join him and lean against the wall. You don’t look at him, instead looking around the room and surveying all the people. “How have you been so far?” It’s a question you have to ask everyone, he’s aware of it but he’ll take whatever you can give. He sighs, leaning his head back up against the wall, gaze on the ceiling. “It’s been stressful,” he drops his head back down and looks at you. “-but nothing I can’t handle.”

You smile at him in response.

“What course are you doing, Prez?” he asks you.

“Computer Science.”

When you don’t receive a reply, you look at the tall man beside you only to find him staring at you in slight shock.

“Pfft,” you can’t help but laugh at his expression. “I’m guessing you too, huh?”

He nods, his voice far too weak from your laugh to function. Pride settles in him, he made you laugh.

“Do you have Mr Wrestly as well?”

At the name he can’t help but let out an involuntary groan which only makes you laugh harder. “He picks on me all the time. I don’t think he likes me very much,” seeing him pout only makes him more endearing to you.

“Yeah, he did it to me too. I felt so stupid every single time until I learnt that he only does it to those who show potential,” you reassure him. His eyes light up at your words. “Really?” He reminds you of a puppy right then and there, one who you’ve just given a bone. “Really,” you confirm.

You understand his reaction, getting a hit after another to your intelligence was not a fun experience. “But still, I’m glad I don’t have him this year.”

It’s silent for a while.

“So…,” he starts and trails off. “-that means you’re graduating this year, right?”

“Yup.”

Truth be told you’ve been trying not to think about it. The future seems so scary, especially since you have no plans in motion. Right now all you have is to apply to some internships and go from there.

“I don’t really see you as a CompSci major,” you admit to him.

“It gives you extra credits for the Aerospace Academy,” he informs.

“Ah. I can definitely see you as a pilot.”

There’s a childlike wonder in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve wanted to be one since I was a kid.”

Your finger reaches up and traces the outline of his collarbone through his shirt, his breath catches in his throat. You make a point to not return his gaze, only doing so when you utter your next words. “It’s a good thing you’ve got someone who can share all her notes,” you pause. “As long as you’re good.”

His hand moves fast to capture your finger, you give a soft tug giving up when his hold tightens in response. His head moves closer to yours, until you can feel his breath mingling with yours.

“Oh, really?” it comes out as a whisper but his voice has deepened. There’s a slight smirk painted on his lips and his eyes are dark and hooded as they rest on you.

“Really.”

He tugs you into some empty room, shutting the door behind him. His lips are on you before you can say a word. The two of you lose yourself in the other. You have more experience so you lead but he’s a fast learner. In a sudden move you pull away from him, making sure to keep a distance. He looks a little dumbfounded at your change in attitude.

“I can taste the alcohol in your mouth, Caleb. How much have you had to drink?” you ask him gently. He chuckles - despite the relief that it wasn’t because you regret it - and his arms wrap around you before he pulls you to him. “Not even enough to feel buzzed,” he nuzzles his head into your shoulder.

“Hmm,” you contemplate. “I’m still not taking any chances.” You want to concede when the man lifts his head up and pouts. “If you’re serious then kiss me again when you don’t have anything in your system.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Caleb finds you again on day two after the party. It would’ve been one but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He waits for you outside the building of your class, not saying a single word as he approaches. All he does is kiss you.

Neither of you have any experience with relationships. You think you might have been moving too fast but it should be okay, right? You two feel so strongly about the other and that isn’t for no reason. Any doubts are shoved away.

A month goes by and life is nice.

You’ve hosted more events for the university and each of them have done well. Some could’ve been better however you’re determined to not let it ruin your mood instead using them as a learning experience.

Caleb and you are still navigating your relationship.

You live in a one bedroom apartment off campus. Any free time he has, Caleb spends it there. He never spends the night. He’s determined to change that.

You have a research paper due in a week. Normally you would do it the day before while panicking as if you didn’t put yourself in that situation. You can’t do that this time, you’ll be busy then. Caleb lounges on your bed as you sit by your desk.

It’s silent. The only sounds are from your keyboard or the odd rustling of pages moving. You don’t notice the silent plotting brewing in the man’s head.

“It’s nearly 8pm,” he tells you. “I should head back.”

You give a hum in response, flicking your hand up to say goodbye.

Caleb knows how you can get when you’re focused so he doesn’t take it to heart. Your ears pick up the sound of him getting up from the bed. He lets out a small sigh. You don’t say anything. He finds his socks on the floor and puts one on with another sigh. You don’t say anything. He puts the other on and sighs again, this time a little louder. You don’t say anything. His eye twitches, he grabs his shoes and puts them on with a big sigh. You don’t even move.

“Yup. I’m going back to the dorms because my girlfriend hates me.”

You swivel around in your chair and stare at him with a deadpan expression. He bats his eyelashes at you.

Your lips quirk in amusement. “Why don’t you just stay the night, Caleb? You’ll be back here in the morning anyway,” you play along, giving in to him. But your heart is light as his expression changes. He kicks off his shoes and plops back down on the bed.

Thinking everything is dealt with, you turn back around only for a hand to clench around your chair and pull it towards the bed. “Wha-” you jump in surprise. An arm pulls you and you land on your back on the bed. The perpetrator hovers above you with a satisfied smirk. The second your lips begin to move, kisses are being peppered onto your face, an effective way to shut you up.

His lips are on yours. The kiss is different from the others you’ve shared. This one is slow as he takes his time, savouring every moment. His hands reach to tug your hoodie and he pulls his mouth away. You’re both breathing hard. His hand digs into your bed sheets as he tries to restrain himself. The air around you has changed, growing thick from the tension. He doesn’t say anything but you hear the question. You nod. Any control he has is gone as he recaptures your lips in a frenzy.

The next day you wake up from light traces all over your body. Your joints ache and your shoulder and neck throb from the markings. You’re bundled up in his arms. Caleb smiles at you when he sees you’re awake, leaning in close to plant a kiss on your forehead. You can’t say a word back. Not when he looks at you like that.

Like you’re everything he’s ever needed.

You and Pen are closer than ever. She’s one of the most important people in your life so you introduce Caleb to her. The dinner seemed to have gone well. You brushed off any awkwardness, deeming it an occurrence of a first meeting.

Except before she had left, Pen had pulled you away to speak privately.

“Just be careful with that guy,” she warns you. “I know I shouldn’t judge without reason but something about him seems…off.”

“You know me, Pen. First sign of trouble and I run,” you smile in an attempt to comfort her. She gives you a weak one back. “I know you can take care of yourself but you’re different with him.” You look at her in confusion. She takes a deep breath, unsure if she should continue but for your sake she does. “You like him [Name], a lot. No…I think you love him. I-I just don’t see this ending well and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

While you’re too busy spiralling over her words, especially as they ring true, she watches you. What she doesn’t say is that your biggest weakness will always be the way you love. Platonic or not. It’s rare for you to get attached to a person but when you do, it’s intense. Not in an overbearing way but because you kept your heart in a cage and you’d only let in those who you deemed worthy. After that you would love freely, thinking everything would be okay, not realising that people can change or that they might’ve been lying to you from the start.

She’d been by your side (and you her’s) through all your friendship breakups, she saw the way you grieved the loss. The sheer anguish you felt would leave her paralysed. But you had never fallen in love romantically before. Pen doesn’t think she could handle how it would affect you. It just might kill her.

She doesn’t know if shining a light on your feelings had the effect she wanted.

And it doesn’t.

You ignore her warning, Caleb hasn’t given you a reason to doubt him. All the conversation did was make you realise how deep your feelings ran. You itch to say it to him but at the same time something holds you back.

The topic of family comes up one night. You don’t go into much detail about yours, alluding to the fact that your home life wasn’t the best. Thankfully he doesn’t push for more. He tells you about his adoptive sister, how they grew up together and that he cares for her a lot.

What you don’t know about is the turmoil inside Caleb’s head. When he’s with you, he forgets all about her. He doesn’t think about what she’s doing and if everything is alright. He doesn’t forget you when he’s with her. You’re always there in his heart, mind and soul. But then his phone will ping with a message from her while he’s watching a movie with you, asking why he hasn’t been responding. In those moments, he thinks he’ll drown in the shame and guilt and then you look his way and give that angelic smile he adores. He wonders how long he can do this for.

It’s now nearly the end of the year. He’s gone back home while you remain in Skyhaven during your last break in the school year. His family doesn’t know he’s dating you, Caleb sneaks away when you call. It all comes to an end when she pulls him away with a confession.

“I feel like you’ve been distant, Caleb,” her eyes shine with unshed tears. His body moves on its own to cup her face. “What do you mean, Pipsqueak?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she struggles to even ask the question. All he can do is wrap his arms around her and say no.

His resolve to end things washes away when you’re waiting for him at the train station. You smile and hug him. She’s forgotten again. It’s an endless cycle.

One that you end up breaking.

He’s standing before a bright green tree, waiting for you. Your tree. The one you went to for peace. The one you had shared with him.

“Surprise!” a figure jumps on him. He recognises the voice. He’s too caught up in the joy to feel dread.

You see the distant figure of your boyfriend. A smile breaks onto your face as you walk faster but you halt when another figure runs towards him. She jumps at him and he catches her with ease. You see it all.

The way he looks at her. How easily she jumps into his arms and he returns it with a serene smile. The emotions and love you thought had been reserved for you are being displayed. In that moment you remember Pen’s warning. Your heart twists as you realise she had been right. How did she see it before you?

You feel so humiliated. It had been right in front of you. How he would always excuse himself to answer her call, no matter the situation. How soft he was when he’d talk about their childhood together. That ugly necklace that was constantly around his neck.

Your steps are slow as you walk up to them. They turn to look at you and Caleb jolts. “[Name]!” He knows it’s over when he sees the look in your eyes. His heart is beating so fast he can hear it drumming in his ears.

Thinking you’re a simple friend, she reaches her hand out and introduces herself. For a split second you want to hate her. But it’s not her fault. You return the handshake and introduce yourself.

“Hey, pips? Why don’t you wait for me in the cafeteria? I need to talk to [Name].”

Unaware of the tension in the air, she agrees and leaves but not before letting you know it was nice to meet you.

You don’t say a word, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry.”

The guilt on his face means nothing to you, not anymore. Caleb’s hands twitch, he wants nothing but to beg for forgiveness. To get on his knees and promise his devotion. But the blank look on your face has him frozen.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you even date me?” you speak the words with a venom he’s never heard before. “Was I just a distraction?” you continue.

“Wha-No! You were never a-”

“Or was I meant to stop others from realising you have feelings for your own fucking sister?”

“I didn’t tell anyone we’re dating.”

“Oh! Even better. But you can’t even deny your feelings for her are true.”

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a cold laugh. “You already said that. I want an explanation.”

But he can’t give it to you. He doesn’t have the answer himself. So, you’ll force them out.

“Choose.”

He looks at you in alarm.

“Me or her? Pick one.”

You already know the answer but you need to hear it. Even if by some miracle he chooses you, you’ll never pick him. Never again.

Flashes of images go through his head. Of her laying on the cold floor with no heartbeat. The fear in her eyes. The anger coursing through him. Their shared cries and pain.

“It’ll always be her.”

His face stings from the force of your slap. He welcomes the pain, it’s what he deserves.

“You’re a coward, Caleb.” You take a step closer. “A weak, pathetic, coward.”

It’s you who physically walks away. You’re numb as you do. All you can focus on is that…

He ruined your tree. Ruined your peace.

Caleb returns to her with a fake grin plastered on his face. No one notices the trembling in his hands or the slight shakiness in his voice.

You don’t see each other for the rest of the school year. In public you’re the same as always but in private you break down. You have no words to describe how you feel. One day you had been so mad that you ripped all the photos you had taken with him. The next you cried over the discarded paper.

Pen is the only one who knows you’re a mess. She tries her best to comfort you.

“[Name] our final exams are next week,” she cradles your head in her hands. “You can’t let him dull your shine. Not now.”

They’re not the words you want to hear but the ones you need.

You bottle up your emotions after that. Keeping the lid shut tight.

You ace your exams and graduate. Happy to never see this place again. Once it had been home to you but now everything about it was tinted with him.

You’re completely unaware as purple eyes watch you in the crowd as you accept your degree and give a speech. How they drink in your smile, laugh and mannerisms. How they are laced with regret.

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care. Not anymore.

Back in the present, you’ve lifted yourself off the floor and have sat down on the bed as you process your(?) memories. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:00AM.

The emotions your other self had years to process are now raw within you. You’re not sure if the shakiness of your body is from the rage simmering inside or the tears making their way down your face.

It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that your comfort character had done all this. Bile rises in your throat, suddenly you feel so disgusted in yourself. You feel used.

The toilet flushes and you turn on the fans in the bathroom to get rid of the smell of vomit. With slow steps you make your way to the bedroom. You look over the decorations and the size of it. At least in this life you’re rich.

You don’t know what to make of this situation. You can no longer delude yourself that it is all a dream. It’s your new reality. You want to go back home. Back to your old life. It wasn’t the best but it also wasn’t this shitshow.

For fucks sake, you have a kid!

You don’t know the first thing about raising a child! All you have are your memories, you’re overtaken by panic.

You leave the bedroom. The hallways are dark but you don’t bother turning the lights back on. You have the floorplan mapped in your head. You take a couple steps right to avoid a table and find yourself standing before a room. Stickers decorate the door. Sparkles and glitters. There’s a big sign on the door. ‘EVE’ is all it says. She had decorated it herself as best as a two-year old could.

You slowly turn the door handle and peek inside. There’s a small frame bundled on the bed. You can see the rise and fall of her chest even under her blanket. The sight of her fills you with peace. All panic is forgotten.

You know exactly where to step so the floorboard doesn't creak. You settle down onto the bed with her, pulling her to your chest. She doesn’t awaken but instead rests deeper into your chest. You caress her head. Maybe this life isn’t so bad after all.

At age twenty you had graduated and found yourself stuck. You had done a bunch of internships after but none stuck with you. One day you had been on the bus, dozing off when you overheard a conversation between two school girls. One of them made an off hand comment about how annoying it was to have so many apps for different things. It didn’t come to you straight away but the girl’s comment stayed with you for a while.

It should’ve been hard to get investors but the reputation you had gained from TELL had been your saviour. Plenty of interest was shown. The first person you brought on was Pen. A way to pay back the friendship and support she had always shown you. She became the lead designer for the app interface.

It’s how Moment’s was born. It’s weird that you designed the very app used to communicate with the love interests themselves.

It’s also how you met him.

Elijah Kennedy.

One of your investors.

You didn’t care for him much at first.

He was attractive, tall with blonde hair and the most majestic brown eyes you’d ever seen, especially under the sunlight. You never really paid much attention to him, all he was is a means to an end. Elijah wasn’t your type, too stoic for your taste. But then, during a meeting he accidentally let slip that he found you pretty and his face got so red. He spluttered on his drink and tried but failed to rectify the situation.

Unlike Caleb who had made your heart beat fast, Elijah made it stutter.

Something changed between you two after that. It was quiet and subtle. Suddenly he was asking you more personal questions and you found yourself answering them. Your meetings started taking place over dinner. Light touches that lingered.

Until one day he tried to ask you on a date but stuttered so much he couldn’t even get the words out. With a teasing smile, you had asked the question for him.

You told him the truth then. That you had been hurt so bad you don’t think you could take a chance again. Elijah confided in you about his ex-girlfriend, who had cheated, in return. Maybe it's because you saw kinship in the other but the rest of the night was spent laying bare all your hurt. It had been therapeutic for Elijah, who felt he would be looked down upon for being so upset, and you, who had to bottle everything up just so you could function.

You didn’t date right away. A friendship started first. Your relationship built slowly. When you two first shared a kiss, it felt so right. Then you went on a date and started dating. After a year, you got married. Pen ended up being your maid of honour. She gave you her approval for Elijah a month into dating and you’ve learnt to listen to her.

Shortly after the honeymoon, you found yourself in the bathroom with a positive pregnancy test. Your hands shook as you stared down at the stick, anxiety pooling in your gut. It was too fast. It was all happening too fast.

You’d learnt nothing from the last time and here you are repeating the same mistakes.

When Elijah finds you on the bathroom floor and tries his best to reassure that everything will be okay, that he’s not going anywhere, the feeling never goes away.

Not even during the pregnancy, or after you gave birth and even when you celebrated Eve’s first birthday. It disappeared when you got the news that your Elijah had been in a car accident. Dead on arrival.

You had been right.

Why did you have to be right?

Eve’s two now, it’s been a year since his passing. It’s a weird sensation to grieve someone so hard yet still feel like they’re a stranger. You sniffle into your daughter’s blonde hair, a few tears escape.

Around the time you had been grieving your husband, you received an email. It had been from her. An invitation to a funeral. There was a line of text at the bottom, ‘He would want you there.’

You didn’t go.

The sound of the doorbell drums through the house.

You don’t get up.

It rings again.

And again.

Until you finally move out of frustration.

She looks concerned at your state. She’s wearing simple clothing, not a hair out of place. While your eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, your skin dry from the salty tears. Everything about your appearance is a mess. Not that you even care.

But you recognise the look in her eyes. She’s a mess just like you, only on the inside.

Neither of you say a word. With a roll of your eyes, you open the door for her and walk inside. The house too, is a mess. Eve’s toys are littered all over the floor of the living room, you grab a basket and start dumping them back in there.

She lingers at the large family photo. “I-I knew you were doing very well for yourself. There was no mention of you getting married or…that you have a child.”

“Yeah? Well, he died too. That’s two for two now. I just might be cursed,” you chuckle darkly as you throw Poppy the Unicorn a little too harshly into the basket. You’ll need to apologise later or Eve won’t be happy.

You feel her gaze on you as you move around the room, trying to clean whatever you could.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. I think I should just go,” she turns to leave.

“Wait,” at your command she looks back. “Just say what it is you want to and then go,” you gesture at the couch. “Besides it’s not like my day can get any worse,” you mutter softly but she still hears every word.

You sit before her, arms crossed and wait for her to speak.

“I came to apologise.”

Her words shock you.

“Really? I thought you came to yell at me for missing the funeral.”

“No!” her eyes widened in alarm. It’s a comical sight, one that might have made you laugh once. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason it all happened. Back then, I felt him pull away so I asked if he had a girlfriend. I didn’t know he actually did. It never occurred to me that he would ever get one.”

“It’s not your fault nor did I ever blame you for anything,” you wave her off. You can tell from her expression that the answer isn’t enough. “You were a child who didn’t know any better. He went from being around every day to being gone for months. It would’ve been hard to adjust for anyone. Any blame is on him. He should have never gotten in a relationship with me when he loved you.”

The last sentence doesn’t shock her.

“Huh. When did you realise?”

“I think I always knew,” she looks down at her hands, twiddling her fingers. “I just…forced myself to ignore it. I’ve never seen him in that way and I don’t really think he did either.” Her head is back up at you but there’s a fire in her eyes now. “I didn’t just come here to apologise. I need to tell you something.”

That gets your attention. You motion for her to continue.

“His feelings for you were real. After you graduated, something in him changed. He still took care of me the same but the intent was gone. Like it was an obligation. I think he realised it was meant to be for you but by then it was too late. He started seeing me as a sister only. He wasn’t even phased when I got my first boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“I know,” she smiles weakly. “It’s selfish of me to unload this on you, especially with what you’re going through currently but I had to. For him.”

There’s some more silence.

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“We named her Eve.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“What?”

“It just doesn’t sound like a name you would pick.”

“It was Elijah’s grandmother’s name. She raised the man I came to love. It was the least I could do.”

The two of you make small talk for a while before a ping on her phone reminds her of her other plans. She bids you goodbye.

You stay on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.

Then the tears fall and you wail.

Your other self was too nice. Caleb didn’t deserve her grief especially since you know he’s still alive.

You have no idea when you drifted off but the feeling of small hands on your face is what wakes you up. Sunlight trickles through the curtains. Brown eyes stare back at you. Eve blinks before breaking out into a huge grin now that you’re up. “Awake?’ she asks.

You kiss her on the forehead. “Awake,” you confirm. “Hungry?” you ask back. It was a daily ritual. She nods. You lift her off the bed and enter the bathroom. She has school today. It’s easy to fall back into your other self’s routine. Every action you take is so natural that it keeps messing with your head. With no issue you enjoy your breakfast with your daughter and drive her to school. She gives you a hug goodbye and you’re left alone again. You don’t have work and you’re in the mood to be outside so the only plans you have is to sleep.

There’s a white box with a ribbon waiting on your doorstep when you arrive. A card is tucked into the ribbon. You bring the box inside.

You’ll need this

Those are the only words written on the card. You flip it over and read the words over and over again but nothing changes. They seem so certain but you’re more shocked at how calm you are.

Inside the box is a silk dress, a shade of emerald green. You run your fingers over the material, it’s beautiful yet simple. Just the way you like it.

The normal thing would be to experience panic in this situation but it never comes. It doesn’t make any sense. You should feel something yet you don’t.

A melody rings through the silence. Something in your pocket vibrates. It’s your phone. You recognise the caller ID, it’s Pen.

You pick up the call, neither of you bothers with trivial greetings.

“We’ve been invited to an event,” her tone is off.

“I’m not going. They’re all the same.”

“Normally I wouldn’t argue but you can’t decline this one [Name].”

“Why?”

“It’s the annual Skyhaven gala. The one where all the important figures attend. People from the Farspace Fleet, military leaders and any important political figure. It’d be social suicide not to go.”

Your gaze settles on the box. “Pen, was it you who sent the dress?” it’s a shot in the dark but it just might land.

“What dress?”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Nothing. I just forgot I ordered one,” you divert. Pen already dealt with so much of your shit, she’s married now too and four months pregnant. She doesn’t need the extra stress.

“Oh, okay. Come visit me later and bring my niece!”

As Pen’s voice drones off on the phone, your eyes remain on the box. You still feel nothing about the situation.

Maybe because you recognise the handwriting.

It feels like deja vu once again as his eyes continue to glance at the entrance.

He has to be careful not to give it away but he can’t deny how nervous he feels at the chance that he’ll see you again.

It took him far too long to realise how deep he had fallen for you. His entire life has revolved around her, just the way he foolishly thought he wanted. It wasn’t until you entered his life that he saw a different path. But he had been too blinded by the role he forced upon himself to notice. After all she had been through, the least he could do was ensure a good life for her. Everything was her, her, her…

But as she grew up, she needed him less and less. He tried so hard to hold on unaware that he was suffocating them both in the process. Then, you came in and slowly his grip loosened. It was entirely his fault that he had been too much of a coward to let go. You had been right to call him one.

Caleb can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering his actions caused you. All of it made worse by the fact that he knew it would end that way, yet he let it happen.

He’s missed you so much these last few years. You were in everything. The warm rays of the sun reminded him of the way you would glow under the sun’s embrace. The moon made him reminisce of all the times you would take him stargazing. He saw parts of you in everyone. Your smile. Frown. Laugh.

It was the betrayal on your face he saw before the explosion. Memories of kissing you were what he held onto as he healed. The sensation of your hand clasped in his would make him cry at the arm he lost. Even now, as the chip whirs in his head, you’re the reason he hasn’t lost himself. You’re why he’s still holding on. He needs you, you’ve become his salvation.

Caleb can no longer give you a choice in the matter.

Not when you had moved on. You kept your personal life private but as the Colonel it was easy for him to access any information on you. He’s glad your…husband (he struggles to even think the word) died, one less thing for Caleb to take care of.

Then you walk in.

You’re a little taller now. Even when you’re all dressed up, he can see the exhaustion in your eyes. Taking care of a baby all by yourself can’t be easy. His eyes flicker down to your body, you’re not wearing the dress. He expected it but his gloved hand still clenches by his side.

You don’t notice him. But others notice you. They swarm around you like parasites and he can see it’s all making you overwhelmed. Your eyes dart around, trying to find someone you knew and that's when they meet his.

He had expected you to be surprised to see him but you remain unphased. Not a single hint as to what you’re thinking is shown. It’s frustrating. This wasn’t how he wanted the evening to go.

You don’t make a move, not a single step either towards or away from him. Your gaze slips away from him as you bury yourself in another meaningless conversation.

It feels like hours have passed before you can catch a breath. You leave the floor quickly before anyone else can interrupt, heading for the upstairs floor. To your luck it’s empty. You take refuge in one of the terraces, counting the minutes until you could go home. You miss Eve. She’d been left with a babysitter, who texted you hourly updates.

The setting of the sun distracts you from your thoughts. The sky a blend of orange, purple and pink. Beautiful.

“Did you not like the dress?”

You hadn’t heard him at all. You don’t turn around to see his face.

“It was hideous.”

His steps indicate that he’s right next to you. You hear his clothes rustle as he rests his hand on the railings, just like you are. To think that the sight of him in the uniform used to be so enticing and now he’s standing before you. He’s real. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Yet all you feel is fear.

“I’ll do better next time,” his gaze digs. It’s like a flashlight shining on your face, when all you can do is look away to avoid going blind.

“There better not be a next time.” Your body moves on its own. Your hand grasps hard on his upper arm. His breath hitches when he feels your touch. It’s been so long. It’s not enough.

You dig your nails further into the material, not caring that it does nothing. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

You don’t see the way his eyes harden at the gold ring around your finger.

You release his arm and storm off.

Shivers run through you as you feel him watch you leave.

You know this isn’t the last time.

A week goes by.

And you spend it on edge every single day. Your paranoia gets the better of you. You call and let Eve’s school know you’re going on a trip so she won’t be in. You do the same for work. The two of you spend it at home.

You can’t keep this up for long. Soon, questions will start being asked. Yet the fear of running into Caleb again leaves you paralysed.

A phone call from your assistant comes as soon as the weekend is over. Her voice is laced with panic as she begs you to come in. There’s a huge issue with the app.

You have no choice but to call the babysitter on short notice, promising to pay extra for the emergency.

Pen is waiting for you when you enter. She gives you a guilty smile. “If it wasn’t urgent we wouldn’t have cut your vacation short,” she says as you walk to your office.

“It’s fine.” It’s not. “What happened that’s so bad you had to call me?”

You gesture for her to sit on your chair. It’s far more comfortable for a pregnant woman. You sit on one of the armchairs opposite. Not as nice but the exhale Pen gives out of relief is worth it. You make a mental note to order a chair just like it for her office. And to get better armchairs.

She plops a file on the desk. “What isn’t happening? Something is wrong with the servers but we’re slowly managing it. I have to go pee every second, I don’t know how you did this. But the real issue is that the app keeps crashing. Something’s wrong with the code but no matter how much we dig, we can’t find it.”

You sigh and lean back into the chair. Your hand comes up to drag down your face. “How much have we lost?”

She doesn’t answer.

“That bad?”

She pauses and mouths ‘worse’ at you.

Great.

“Your phone’s been ringing all morning too. I’m sure it’s the board members,” she slowly gets up and makes her way out the door but not before patting you on the shoulder.

You spend the next hour on the phone, apologizing and promising to fix the issue to each individual member. You’re left holding your head as you try to massage the headache. This used to be fun, back when the app was just an idea. Somewhere along the way you started dreading coming into work. You’re not made to be like this. You’re meant to create.

What was it they used to say?

Never turn your hobby into real work.

Wow, you really have a habit of not listening to advice.

You order your assistant to buy everyone whatever they desire for lunch and dinner before heading down to the programming teams. They’re not enthusiastic about the situation but who can deny overtime.

Morale seems higher when they learn that you’ll be staying back with them. It was your baby at risk after all.

Your eyes are about to pop from the strain, you’ve been staring at a screen for hours. And then you come across it. One single line. Nudged into the code. That nearly destroyed years of hard work.

12 5 20 19 20 1 12 11

The numbers stare back at you. They confuse you. It makes no sense for them to be there. It’s not actual programming. Unless they were deliberately written in…

Your mind runs through all possibilities of what the numbers mean, each one more complicated than the last. But, what if it’s not difficult? You blankly gaze at the numbers.

No way. It can’t be that simple.

Your hand reaches for a pen and you scribble down onto a notepad.

12=L, 5=E, 20=T, 19=S, 20=T, 1=A, 12=L, 11=K

‘Let’s talk’

Your hand scrunches the paper into a ball, it remains in there. The other grasps the pen so hard that it breaks in your hand. Blue ink explodes all over the desk.

It takes several deep breaths to calm down. You still see red as you highlight the issue and email your team to fix it.

With no second thoughts, you rush back home. You can’t stay in Skyhaven any longer.

It’s eerily quiet when you enter your house.

Usually the babysitter would be waiting on the couch for you. The living room is completely empty and a mess. There are still dishes from the sink indicating that Eve had lunch at least. Your intuition screams that something is wrong. You grab a knife from the block, slowly making your way through the house, checking every room as you go on. The only one remaining is Eve’s bedroom. The light is on.

Your mind begs you to not go in but it surrenders, for Eve’s sake.

The door opens with a light creak from your touch. He’s sitting on the armchair in her room. The same one Elijah used to sit on with her. Caleb has your daughter in his arms. She’s fast asleep, seeing her unharmed brings you some relief. It snaps when his hand reaches to brush hair away from her face.

“Let her go!” You try to rush at him but something immobilizes you, like you’re getting crushed by something. The knife you were carrying clatters on the ground.

“Shhh,” he brings a finger up to his lips. “Do you want to wake her up?”

“I sent the babysitter home. She didn’t put up much of a fight when I threatened to arrest her. Don’t get mad at her, she didn’t have a choice.” His voice is too calm. He doesn’t even look at you, gaze fixed on Eve. “I didn’t know what I was going to do with her at first,” he admits then he looks at you. “She’s your daughter but she looks just like that bastar-”

“Don’t call him that,” the words escape from your mouth before you can stop that.

His hand on her stills. You watch as the emotion dies down in his eyes. The same notion you saw play out on your phone, when MC refused to go with him. His possessiveness had you swooning then. You had cried for him, for the tragic story they shared. It didn’t excuse his actions but you could understand them. None of that is present here. None of this should even be happening. There are no excuses for him anymore.

“I was going to give her away, so I could have you to myself.” He doesn’t respond to your remark, you wish he did so you didn’t have to listen to those words. You gasp and open your mouth to plead but he cuts you off. “All I had to do was spend two hours with her. She might look like him but everything else is from you. She smiled at me the way you used to.”

You look away from the sickening devotion on his face. It’s disgusting.

Caleb isn’t pleased by your disrespect. He knows how to finish the blow. “She asked me if I was her father. She doesn’t even remember him.” He gives you a soft smile. “I told her yes.”

He gets up from the chair and walks over to her bed, placing her down gently on the bed. He makes sure the blanket covers her before turning to you.

“I’ll admit there’s another reason I’m letting her stay. To keep you in line.”

He takes slow steps towards you, like a hunter taking his time to end his prey.

You can’t help the tears running down your face. His gloved hand reaches up to wipe a tear away. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, his evol stops just so he can bring you into his arms, comforting you like he isn’t the cause. He doesn’t use it again, he has you right where he wants.

“Why are you doing this?” the words come out hoarse.

He brings your head back up, both hands cradling your cheeks, level to his face. “Because I’ll go insane without you.” His thumb rubs circles on the skin underneath. Each touch is more revolting than the last.

“You’re already insane,” you whisper.

Caleb lets out a soft laugh. “I can be worse than this,” his demeanour is gentle but you know it’s a warning.

“It’s not just Eve, [Name]. I’ll go after everyone you love. Penelope will be the first. Do you think a pregnant woman can survive the fleet’s harsh interrogation methods?”

Your eyes widen even more. “No, no, she has nothing to do with this. Leave her alone. Please, Caleb.”

He groans when you say his name. Your bodies are pressed so close that you can feel him get excited. It takes everything to not rip yourself from his hold.

“Then promise you’ll be mine. Say it.”

You don’t respond, taking your time to say the words. But you don’t even get to make that choice as his eyes slowly lose the spark.

“I-I’ll be yours, Caleb.”

His mouth is on yours. You make no move against him or to stop him. His lips press deeper into yours, his tongue darts out in an attempt to make you open your mouth. You don’t. A sound rumbles from him, like a growl before a sharp pain erupts on the corner of your lips. He bites you so hard you can feel the skin rip and the blood drip. You try to jerk your head back but his hold on your face tightens, enough to bruise. The yelp you give from the pain gives him the access he needs.

“Kiss back,” he growls and this time you know to listen.

When he finally pulls away, you’re left trembling as you struggle to breath. Your blood coats his mouth, making him look like the monster he truly is. He has that blank look again. His finger caresses the scab forming on your lips before pressing down hard enough for you to hiss in pain.

“When your partner kisses you, you’re supposed to do it back, [Name]. Don’t make me do this again.”

You nod, too tired to fight. Not like you even can. His behaviour shifts again at your obedience. “Good girl,” he praises.

He looks around Eve’s room.

“Pack your bags. Enough for a couple of days. You’re moving in with me.” It’s an order, one you can’t refuse.

Caleb watches with unconcealed satisfaction as you follow his command.

It’s been a week since you entered this hell hole.

Just like in the main story, his apartment is devoid of anything that isn’t grey. It’s soulless, just like its owner.

He tells you to decorate to your taste and for Eve’s sake, you have to. Kids can’t grow up in a stale environment.

Speaking of Eve, she’s smitten with the man. You die a little inside every time she calls him Dad. Elijah only exists in your memories now. Caleb had taken one look at your wedding photos before burning them. Seeing the daily routine of her running into his arms when he comes back from work is torture. He’ll hold her in his arms before coming up to you and placing a kiss on your forehead. Then you give a smile that you both know is fake. It’s all an act.

Luckily, the collar around your neck is invisible. You’re free to come and go as you please. No one in your life has any idea what you’re going through and it’ll remain that way. Pen asked you once if everything was okay, you brush her concern off and tell her you just miss Elijah.

On your second day in his house, you had asked him about work.

“As long as you behave.”

It’s yet another thing he holds over you.

It’s Monday morning now. As you wake up, it’s to the sounds of something sizzling in the kitchen. Caleb had a rare day off, he had pushed you back on the bed when you tried to leave, claiming he’ll get Eve ready and take her to school. You had no choice but to remain in bed until you fell back asleep.

You share the bedroom with him. It’s the largest in his apartment. The one he was supposed to give to MC. Every night you go to bed without him and every morning you wake up to him tightly wrapped around you. You ignore the feeling of it pressed up against you, just glad he doesn’t act on it.

He still kisses you. A deep kiss before he leaves that always ends in a make out, leaving you breathless and panting each time. He looks at you in a way like he’s contemplating throwing you on the counter and having his way. Something always stops him, he ends up reaching for his hat, placing it on his head to hide the hunger in his eyes, before leaving.

You worry about the day he won’t hold back.

You make your way to the bathroom and do your morning routine. You remain in your pajamas, throwing on a robe before you enter the kitchen.

Caleb’s standing shirtless, clad only in plaid pajamas bottoms. He’s grown even more muscular from the last time you saw him at university. He doesn’t tell you about the scars on his body or why he no longer has an arm unaware you already know the answer. You have yet to see him wear that necklace. For a few seconds, you try to make yourself believe this is a normal domestic scene, desperate to make this easier for you but you can’t. You just can’t.

You want that brown hair to be blonde. You don’t want to look at purple eyes that resemble galaxies, you want deep brown eyes staring back at you.

“Good morning,” he doesn’t turn around, busy flipping a pancake.

“Morning,” you say back, walking closer to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the barstool. There’s a laminated paper on it. You bring it closer to you so you can read. ‘Certification of Marriage’ is typed at the top in big fancy letters. You stop reading when you see yours and Caleb’s full names next.

“What did you do?” you whisper. It feels like there’s a ball stuck in your throat.

He turns the stove off, finished with the last pancake. Taking his time to answer, he sets up the counter for breakfast. You know better than to push him. It doesn’t stop your hands from shaking.

“It’s only normal for couples to get married, honey,” he says to you like you’re stupid. Then he steps closer and grasps your hands in his. The action lets you notice the gold ring glinting on his ring finger. “I might not be your first husband but I’ll certainly be your last.”

When your expression doesn’t mimic his excited one, he gives you a sly grin. “Notice anything different,” his eyes focus on the ring in your hand. You look down, nothing about it had seemed off originally. It had always remained in the corner of your mind, never in your focus since you had already gotten used to it being there. But as you look deeper you notice differences. It’s a bit thicker and the gold is brighter than normal. It doesn’t look like it’s been worn for years.

It’s not your ring.

Caleb lets you snatch your hands out of his, he says nothing as you yank the ring off. You look for the inscription inside, begging inside to whatever gods that exist that is all a trick. That it’s still the ring Elijah gave you.

‘Forever yours’ is nowhere to be seen. ‘Eternity’ is written instead.

“When did yo-”

“While you were sleeping. You’re a very deep sleeper, you know? Could do whatever I want to you.”

You get the message. With no other words you put the ring back on your finger. All you can give him is a strained smile. “It’s beautiful,” you say as you cry.

One night when Caleb enters the apartment, she’s trailing behind him.

Her eyes look at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the couch with Eve in your arms, watching some princess movie she was obsessed with. As your daughter sees him, she rushes out of your arms to hug him.

Caleb drops her luggage down and welcomes her in his arms.

Eve has never been a shy kid, so she walks over the young girl and tugs on her pants. “I’m Eve!”

The girl crouches down and pats her head before introducing herself. In that moment Caleb makes his way to you, crouching down before you. “She has some business here in Skyhaven. Is it okay if she stays until then, pretty?”

His question leaves you dumbfounded. Why would he need your permission?

“It’s fine,” you respond. He leaves a kiss on your hand before walking back to them. His hand comes down to pat Eve’s head. “You can call her Auntie, sweetheart. She’s my sister.” Eve’s eyes go wide in wonder.

It makes you a little happy. All you could give Eve was one aunt, your real family could burn for all you care.

“Choose any room you like. Except our bedroom and Eve’s,” Caleb lets her know.

That causes your eyebrow to raise. So, he wouldn’t be giving up his room to her like he originally had. And even though she looks so confused why you’re there, she asks nothing. You suppose she’s already too busy trying to grapple with him being alive.

The dinner you all had together that night was so awkward. Eve gave a tired yawn in the baby chair. “You tired, baby?” you coo at her, slightly pinching her chubby cheeks. She gives you a tired nod.

You don’t notice the adoring look Caleb sends your way but the girl sitting next to him does.

“I’ll take her bed,” he says, getting up and carrying Eve, who makes herself at home in his arms. You watch as they enter her bedroom.

“I suppose you’ve forgiven him then.”

Her voice catches your attention. For a moment, you contemplate telling her the truth but you have no idea what Caleb will do in response. She still doesn’t know that she’s in a snake’s nest but she’ll come to that conclusion herself.

“Something like that.”

You get up and put the dishes in the sink. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, trying to come up with a suitable question but it's interrupted by Caleb coming back. He sits back down next to her and they start talking. All you need to do is hear the words ‘Kevi’ and ‘lockdown’ to mentally check out. You’ve never been one to disassociate before but it’s how you survive in this place.

You jump a little when muscular arms wrap around you. You hear his chuckle as he presses a kiss on your shoulder. “Missed you at work today,” he mumbles against your shirt. “You say that everyday,” you quip.

“Cause it’s true everyday.”

His hands uncurl just so he can feel every part of your stomach, they explore, kneading the skin as they go. You turn the sink off.

The tip of his nose nuzzles into your nape before he replaces it with his mouth. You yelp when he bites down, not from pain since he’s being gentle but from shock. Thinking otherwise, his mouth lets go before you feel him kiss the bite, his way of apologising. But then the kisses trail off, to any part of your neck he can find. You bite your lip to try and keep the noises in but a small whimper escapes when his tongue licks a stripe down your neck.

“Caleb I don-”

“I know,” comes a husky reply. “I won’t go further than this.” Not yet.

He tugs you into your shared bedroom, not bothering to let you change. You lay together on the bed, with him practically pulling you on top of him. He absentmindedly traces shapes on your back, soothing you to sleep.

The glass makes contact with the floor and shatters.

Eve cries out of fear in your hold and you try to comfort her.

“Did that calm you down?”

You wait for him to say that. It never comes. The pats you’re giving Eve come to a stop as you stare at the rage on Caleb’s face. He’s mad at her. He shouldn’t be, not in this scene.

His hand reaches for her wrist in such a tight hold that you wince with her. Eve shakes in your arms.

“Are you crazy?” he says through gritted teeth. “That could’ve hit them!” His voice booms through the room. Eve’s cries become louder.

Her eyes widen and her head snaps to you. “I-I didn’t mean-I’m sorry.”

“CALEB!” you force out. You hate yelling. You hate fighting. That’s when you realise you’re shaking too. You promised yourself as a kid, staring at the bruises on your arms, that you would never let your children be scared in their own home. You couldn’t even keep that promise.

The sound of your voice breaks him out of his rage.

“You’re the one scaring Eve right now. Let her go. You’re hurting her!”

He lets her arm go. She’s quick to let go and assess the damage. It’s red and you can see imprints of Caleb’s fingers. It’ll definitely bruise.

Caleb stares down at the arm that hurt her. He wishes it was the mechanical one. It’s not.

“P-pips, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as she pushes her way past him back to her room. You make eye contact with her but neither of you say a word. He stares at you, lost. But you’re the same. He’s not supposed to act this way. He shouldn’t be putting you above her. It’s unnatural. It goes against everything he is.

There’s nothing you can say to comfort him, you walk away and bring Eve into her room. She cries and hiccups and all you can do is repeat ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again as you press kisses into her hair.

A few days after the incident occurred pass by and tensions have started to melt away.

The two are still a little on edge around each other but you see it in their eyes. They still care for each other. Caleb had apologised profusely to Eve the next day, taking her out for ice cream. The little girl forgave him too quickly for your taste. You’ll have to teach her better when she grows up.

Currently Eve is at school and Caleb at his job, not much was needed for you at work so you’re back. You laze on the dining chair, your mind is clear for once. But peace never lasts long for you. She enters the apartment, out of breath.

You stare at her and wait.

“He’s keeping you here, isn’t he?”

“And ten points goes to the winner,” you clap. “What would you like for your reward?”

“Help. I’d like help.”

She sits in front of you, launching into details about the toring chip in his head. What it is and what it does. The professor that did it to him. She tells you about what Kevi has become. All of it you already know.

She looks at you for a reaction but you keep your blank expression.

“And it matters to me, why?”

Her expression falters. “B-because it means he’s doing this under the chip's influence. It’s not his fault! We can help him!”

“We?” you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, let’s say I’m willing to entertain this. You said the chip could wipe all his emotions?”

She nods.

“Good.”

“W-what…?”

“I hope that fucking happens. After everything he’s put me through, it’s what he deserves.”

“Don’t you get it? If we find a way to get rid of the chip then he’ll go back to normal. He’ll let you go.”

“No, he won’t,” you lean back in the chair. “You don’t see it because you’re still blinded by the man you think he is. The chip didn’t give him this…infatuation out of nowhere. It just took away the resolve that stopped him from acting on it. Which is why it’s best that the chip works, if he doesn’t feel then he’ll let me go.”

She stares at you in horror.

“Did you really believe I would want to help him?” you scoff. “That’s cruel, especially from you. Are you sure you’re a hunter?” you shake your head at her. “Maybe you two are more alike than you think.”

She stares down at her hands, her hair covers her face so you can’t see what expression she’s wearing. You wait for her to start yelling but it doesn’t happen.

“...You’re right,” she admits. When she lifts her head back up, tears are running down her face. “I just want him back, the way he used to be. Even if it meant looking the other way.”

You should feel anger. You should feel the need to give her a slap or two. But all you see sitting before you is a little girl crying out for her brother. Besides, nothing you say or do will match the disgust and guilt she’s currently feeling at herself.

She gets up. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

“And what? Can you guarantee protection for my child? For my loved ones? Because he threatened all of them. And he’ll go through with each one.”

She goes silent again.

“That’s what I thought. I think it’s best that you finish whatever you came here to do. And then go back to Linkon. The Caleb you miss died in that fire. Grieve that version of him and move on. Don’t come back. It’ll make all our lives easier.”

“I can’t just leave you here!”

You scoff again. “You and I both know you’re not going to do anything. You love him too much. Even if you tried, what’ll you do when, not if, when the Fleet finds out? They’ll dispose of him but not before killing me and my daughter in the process. So, drop that righteous attitude and just leave.”

She’s gone the next day.

It’s been a month since then.

You sit in the most uncomfortable position on the couch. It’s the only thing bringing you relief from the cramps.

Your husband enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as a small groan escapes you.

“Period,” you’ve taken to giving him one worded answers, sometimes no answer at all.

“It’s okay. You won’t have this problem next month.”

He watches as the confusion on your face is replaced with horror. He gives you a smile and kisses your temple. “I have to go now. I’ll be back at night, hon.” He leans down to your ear. “We’ll get started then,” he rubs your round stomach, like he already sees what he plans. “Eve deserves some siblings.”

You don’t respond as he leaves. Those words repeat in your head. They throb in your ears.

Siblings. As in plural. As in more than one.

There’s nothing you can do to combat the dread you feel for the rest of the day. He’s already decided your future and you both know that you can’t do anything about it.

You stand before the shelf. The one with the picture of her and Caleb in their childhood. A bitter feeling grows at their happy smiles.

While she always got the perfect Caleb - the act he performed only for her - you got the real one. The one who’ll say it’s time he gets to be selfish when you both know selfish is all he’s ever been with you.

A crack had begun to form in you the day you met him, one so small you never noticed. It stayed that way even as it began to get larger and new ones joined for you were too lost in him to realise. When you did notice, it was too late. All you heard as he left you was the sound of you shattering.

Then he waited for you to patch yourself back up so he could do it again. You’ve finally realised what you should’ve back then. He’ll destroy you, ruin you if it means keeping you by his side.

He’ll do it all with no remorse.

And it’s too late for you, you realise as you hear the sound again.

He won.

AN: I know nothing about programming. Why did I make the reader one, then? Maybe because I like making my life difficult! Don’t take anything I’ve written in regards to her job seriously, I just made shit up.

I did make reader plus size but I’ve never been one to focus on the bodies of those I write about.

I did not mean for Caleb to turn out this way but I lost the 50/50 to him and didn’t get Master of Fate so this is my revenge :) (I waited so long for the fucking rerun)

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list for the other versions!

Tag list: @zeverean @quill-for-glory @smittenlynn @nm4565natty @miuangel

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rebeccka · 1 month ago

Text

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.

Would you believe that such a place exists?

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.

And they lived happily ever after.

----------

Ah, so it was that tale.

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears.

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form.

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.

Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response.

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”

“Oh, I see,” you hum.

Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.

A glimmer he once believed was love.

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.

She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.

That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them?

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.

Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.

Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.

“That is what you must find for yourself.”

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Is your name Édouard?”

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.

He hums an answer.

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out.

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him.

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him.

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.

Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?

“Could you be expecting?”

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.

“Will there be a new addition to the village?”

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Are we getting a brother or sister?”

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.

“No,” he coughs out.

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.

“Where does a baby come from?”

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.

“Of course, Sébastien.”

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.

“Regrettably, that is not my name.”

“Was it at least a decent attempt?”

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?”

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat.

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.

He needs to leave now. For your sake.

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.

“Neuvillette?”

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.

The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.

“Neuvillette?…”

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper.

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.

“That’s too bad.”

His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it.

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it?

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.

This wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him?

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.

“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.

“How could I hate you?” he confesses.

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Fin~

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