#Amethyst Palace

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 5 . . .

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 5 is waiting for you. #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **They’ve made it to the Amethyst Palace. Also, heads on sticks.** * * * * * 7. Face To Face. Rising proudly from the ground, the Amethyst Palace was a majestic sight. Vibrant purple crystalline towers protruding from the ground made it look like a structure that had been meticulously…

[indgem]

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Amethyst cluster in bulk

[stardewmatt]

My first dive into landscapes and well, I don’t quite like it. We all have to start somewhere though! Nothing’s perfect, and it’s important to share things that fall flat.

[historiaxvanserra]

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice. 

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory. 

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.” 

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe. 

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think. 

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red. 

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you. 

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement. 

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name. 

She knows your name. 

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses. 

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here. 

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts. 

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity. 

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”. 

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment. 

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove. 

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark. 

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty. 

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps. 

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes. 

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens. 

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow. 

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait. 

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.” 

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles. 

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again. 

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls. 

This house is something truly breathtaking. 

It feels like a home you realize. 

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son. 

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms. 

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother. 

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp. 

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it. 

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.” 

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him. 

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence. 

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense. 

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark. 

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer? 

You want to live. 

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--” 

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse. 

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you. 

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her. 

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms. 

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you,  “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.” 

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious. 

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye. 

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you. 

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect. 

“I don’t think that's a good--” 

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean. 

“Rhys--” You warn gently. 

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him. 

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement. 

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

[visenyaism]

jaehaerys administration dashboard simulator

🫧maidenpooled Follow

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♟️redwhine

ok bootlicker. you know what she did

🫧maidenpooled Follow

boots not the only thing id lick

🌸queencrowned Follow

this could literally be me and my brother if it weren't for my bitch mom trying to send me to the other side of the fucking continent

🍒saerious

GIRL STAND UP

🤎bowlofbrown

doctrine of exceptionalism meatriders when someone asks them why 75% of dragonstone is blonde and me and half of flea bottom have gleaming amethyst eyes and/or beautiful delicate cheekbones

🥀maegorwife Follow

that's different...targaryens are literally divinely ordained by the seven to rule because they're stronger and better than us...that's why they have the dragons it is in their sanctified valyrian blood

🩸knifeinthedark

SO TRUE...THEY WANT TO ABOLISH THE RIGHT TO FIRST NIGHT BECAUSE OF WOKE. AND YET THEY STILL DO IT. BUT NO ONE CAN SAY ANYTHING ANYMORE OR THOSE GENDER-NEUTRAL DRAGONS WILL BURN YOUR KEEP DOWN

🤎bowlofbrown

cannot stand this fucking website. spending my last silver stag on tyroshi blue hair dye im not going to be associated with you people.

🍒saerious

oh so when maegor has seven wives he’s “aegon’s true son” and “cool” but when i have three boyfriends suddenly im a “whore”

🫀lustywench Follow

op i support you but they did call him “the cruel” for that it was a very important part of the story that he was in fact maegor “the cruel”

🌟sevenpointedstar

🌗maidensgrace

doing all of this with a FAITH OF THE SEVEN URL...girl you better pick a hell and start hoping

#bring back the faith militant

❄️theythemderly

hey isn’t it weird that so many of the king’s children have suddenly and mysteriously died lately. under the care of the maesters. what if they’re planning something…,

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⚔️errantmaid Follow

the king chopped it off and sent him to the wall i fucking hate this place can't have SHIT in king's landing

🏵️floriansjonquil

hey has anyone seen princess gael. it's been literal months and she seems to have up and disappeared with no official announcement from the palace? would be the third female relative to go missing in the king's custody after aerea and saera....

🐝beeeeeeeeeeeeesbury Follow

damn that's crazy. im sure shes fine though anyways i'm a big fan of this new road the king built theres a lot of nice new roads does anyone else like the roads

🐦‍⬛cloakedinfeathers Follow

day 18262 of not fighting the brackens. this is boring as fuckkkkk what am i supposed to do. pretend to care about the triarchy?

🐎brackennation

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🐦‍⬛cloakedinfeathers Follow

192.158.1.38. doxxed. get your dumbfuck horse breeder knights ready because our strongest and noblest raven warriors are on the way to your nasty ass keep right now bitch

[chaedomi]

THE CROWN PRINCESS

SUMMARY . after visiting her mother, lyrica finds herself learning about the mysterious crown princess who resides inside the sun palace.

CHARACTERS . LYRICA NARA TAKAR / BRINNE SOL

WARNINGS . YANDERE, female child reader, platonic, ooc (if i missed any, kindly alert me)

WORDCOUNT . 2.9k+ / MASTERLIST.

LETTERS . i'd like to make it known that this fanfiction was inspired by lyomeii's works ─ ( one / two ) yeah, i do plan to make this into a little platonic yandere series. and since this is a little introduction to it all, there won't be as much action in this compared to others that (hopefully) will come. 'breanna' is a character made by me on the spot. oh, God, this is so bad

LYRICA WAS having the best day of her life. Her mother had just bestowed upon her something truly precious—a silver coin, unparalleled to all the riches that could be offered. Honestly, when she lost the first silver coin she had earned back in the slums, she felt a sense of disappointment. That coin had been her pride, marked and stained with all the times she held it, dreaming of a better future. She never aspired to acquire another, as it couldn't compare to the first one she had cherished for so long. But, who cared? Even if it wasn't the same coin, it was still a silver coin—her precious silver coin.

"Ah... Huh...?" Lyrica's footsteps halted as something interesting captured her attention. The Black Dragon Chamber next door was The Crown Prince's room, and right next to it was another door—the entrance to The Crown Princess's chambers. It occurred to Lyrica that she had never laid eyes on The Crown Princess before. The Crown Princess hadn't even been present at her mother's and His Majesty's wedding!

Lyrica lifted her gaze to examine the sign above the chamber door. Said signs depicted the theme of the chambers and, by extension, identified the type of dragon associated with The Crown Princess.

However, instead of the expected dragon imagery, there was what Lyrica recognized as a constellation.

"Oh my," Brinne spoke beside Lyrica, causing the little girl to startle, as the voice was unexpected. "It seems that Your Highness has stumbled across something very interesting. Would you like me to explain, Your Highness?"

"Huh...?" Lyrica blinked at her servant before finally catching on. "O... Oh, yes, please!"

Brinne laughed in response to Lyrica's enthusiasm. "Recall when I mentioned that His Majesty and House Takar trace their lineage to dragons? I also explained that House Wolfe descends from wolves, and House Sandar's ancestry is tied to a colossal snake as thick as a tree."

Brinne’s eyelids fluttered open, and Lyrica could see for herself the fondness swirling in her amethyst-hued eyes.  Lyrica's curiosity deepened even more as a result of this reaction. Minor details about The Crown Princess's existence are known, yet she already fascinates Lyrica. In the 'White Dragon Chamber,' Lyrica remembers the information Brinne shared with her. The Founder of the prosperous Takar Nation was a dragon, leading to the Imperial Family (comprising Takars) being named after these mythical creatures.

So, why is it that you, The Crown Princess, aren't named after a dragon? Your hand was given to The Crown Prince, which rightfully places you within the Imperial Family. However, you carry the identity of something different—a star, or more precisely, a constellation of stars known as Pollux.

Lyrica resisted the urge to ask, concerned about overwhelming Brinne with questions she might not have answers to. However, the more she thought, the more she wanted answers. Despite the unsettling tales she had heard about The Emperor, her stepfather had proven to be benevolent. It wasn't as if The Emperor despised you otherwise, he wouldn't have permitted you to reside in The Sun Palace and ''''marry'''' The Crown Prince. So, why...?

Lyrica bit her lip and groaned, ultimately yielding to her curiosity. "The Family Crest of High-Ranking Nobles symbolizes their ancestry. However, considering House (L.N) bears the crest of a star, does that suggest that The Crown Princess is descended from a star?" Brinne tilted her head and beamed, satisfied with Lyrica's analysis. "Exactly!"

Although Brinne appeared content, Lyrica felt the opposite, her eyebrows furrowing in dissatisfaction. "But... I thought all Takars were named after dragons. What about The Crown Princess?" It's only at that moment that Brinne understands the confusion of The Young Princess. Brinne's smile widened further, momentarily causing Lyrica to worry about the strain on her jaw muscles.

"It's as you mentioned, Your Highness. All Takars, even those married into The Imperial Family, bear dragon names. But, The Crown Princess is only engaged to His Highness.” Brinne replied, a sly smirk gracing her stunning features. Lyrica's expression faltered as she processed her servant's words. “Your Highness, let me make it known that His Majesty deeply admires House (L.N), especially The Crown Princess."

As the realization dawned on her, Lyrica almost jumped in surprise. Tolerance and respect were one thing, but admiration? Another question was… why did Brinne tell her all of this when she had first moved into her chambers? Did she forget…?

Brinne giggled at Lyrica’s reaction. "With admiration comes a deep bond. As we know, His Majesty cannot rule forever, nor will it be advised for his nephew to rule alone. And so, because His Majesty trusts no one as he trusts House (L.N), he decided that one of them shall ascend to the throne alongside his nephew. Despite the many good suitors House (L.N) had to offer, The Crown Princess was chosen as she not only captured him with her abilities but her personality as well."

“Of course, to be a Crown Princess, you need to marry The Crown Prince first. However, His Majesty’s instructions to address Her Highness as such regardless is a way of showcasing her permanent ascension.”

Lyrica's eyebrows rose at the revelation. Well, now it makes sense why you weren’t identified as a dragon. Forget what she said about the marriage thing too. "But wait! Even if The Crown Princess didn’t receive that privilege, would she still be considered important, perhaps more so than High-Ranking Nobles?"

Brinne hummed in thought. “She would still be considered as a High-Ranking Noble even if she and those in House (L.N) hold more privileges than the others in the same noble class. …It’s all because of His Majesty’s orders. Everything is. You are aware of how absolute His Majesty’s orders are, right? If His Majesty commands people to act like animals, they will do just that. If His Majesty says to idolize an object, they will do just that! Even more so if His Majesty orders his people to respect House (L.N) just as they respect House Takar, they will do just that. It doesn’t matter if people are pleased with the arrangements or not. ...His Majesty’s reason for doing so all aligns with the shared history of House Takar and House (L.N).”

Lyrica became intrigued by that bit of information. "Shared history?" She leaned in, eager to learn more. "Can you tell me more, Brinne?" Unfortunately, Brinne responded with an apologetic smile, disappointing Lyrica.

"Regrettably, that's the extent of my knowledge regarding the relationship between House (L.N) and House Takar. It's a limit for anyone," Brinne's lips tightened. "The narrative unfolds after the nation's expansion and the allegiance of House Sandar and House Wolfe, undoubtedly including the deeds of House (L.N) that earned His Majesty's favor."

"However, crucial details of this significant historical period somehow vanished. Consequently, over time, people began crafting theories about how House (L.N) and House Takar evolved into their current relationship. Some theories were logical, while others were entirely nonsensical. And, of course, some seized the opportunity for profit, as seen in the widely popular children's fairytale, 'The Dragon Who Fell In Love With A Star.' You must have heard of it, haven't you?"

Lyrica recalled hearing a similar story in the slums, never imagining its connection to something so crucial. "That's incredible!" she exclaimed.

"Despite these theories, none have been confirmed. House (L.N) and House Takar are the only ones capable of such confirmation. However, His Majesty has maintained silence on the matter, and House (L.N) feels compelled to align with his decision."

"Yet, certain aspects remain clear. Regardless of factual evidence, His Majesty holds House (L.N) in high regard. Thus, we are to treat them with respect, just as we will respect House Takar. Whether others agree or disagree is unimportant."

“Either way, the latter is not a concern,” Brinne continued. “Everyone in this nation is fond of House (L.N), or in this case, The Crown Princess.”

Lyrica cocked her head to the side. “Even you?”

"Yes, Your Highness! Why wouldn't I?" Brinne laughed. "Allow me to explain how House (L.N) operates. As we are aware, High-Ranking Nobles align themselves with the symbols on their crests. Given that House (L.N) traces its lineage to a star... it's worth noting that House (L.N) is the largest Noble Family in the nation. This serves as a symbolic representation of the countless stars that adorn the sky."

"B-Billions!?" Lyrica stammered, staring at Brinne with widened eyes.

"Oh, dear." Brinne covered her mouth. "Your Highness, House (L.N) doesn't quite literally have billions. However, like certain traits are inherent to specific Noble Families, having large kin is one characteristic of House (L.N). So, fear not, Your Highness; having a small family circle is normal. House (L.N) just happens to multiply at a very alarming rate... to the extent that they are scattered throughout all corners of the nation."

"Due to their extensive family, House (L.N) has implemented a system within their household to maintain order. Drawing inspiration from astrology, where eighty-eight constellations are recognized, House (L.N) has structured itself into eighty-eight classes, each with varying levels of power and status. However, within these eighty-eight classes, there exist twelve classes that house the highest positions. I find myself intrigued by the method they use to organize it all..."

"But, moving on!" Brinne placed her hands on her knees. "Your Highness, are you familiar with the twelve constellations of the universe?"

"Yes! Glendelyn taught me about them! It's uh... Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces... right!?" Lyrica grinned, pleased with herself for recalling both the names and pronunciation.

"And those would be the twelve classes of House (L.N) with the highest status and power! The Crown Princess oversees Class Gemini of House (L.N), in part. As we know, Gemini is a twin star encompassing both Pollux and Castor. Therefore, Gemini is responsible for two individuals, with The Crown Princess having authority over Pollux."

Brinne's eyes crinkled with amusement. "It makes me wonder... if House (L.N)'s class sorting is also influenced by personality traits..."

"What makes you think that...?" Lyrica inquired, tilting her head to the side.

"Pollux means 'very sweet' or 'fit for royalty.' And when compared to both Castor and Pollux, Pollux is the brighter star of the two." Brinne giggled. "'Fit for royalty'... truly describes The Crown Princess! The Crown Princess can also be characterized as... bright and pure. Undoubtedly, she possesses the most beautiful soul in the entire nation."

In Lyrica's thoughts, she argues that her mother is the most beautiful soul of all!

"Generous, selfless, and loving. The Crown Princess consistently treats everyone impartially and respectfully, ignoring class or personality. When she had more freedom before getting engaged, The Crown Princess frequently visited the lower class, playing with the little children there. She gave them gifts, food, and clothes, disregarding the opinions of those in the Noble Status," Brinne explained.

"Now, with increased power, The Crown Princess has expressed her intent to enhance the quality of life for the lower class. His Majesty has already given his approval, leaving the timing of the project's initiation to The Crown Princess." Brinne hummed. "In summary, The Crown Princess is admired not just for her history and status. It's her demeanor and how she treats others, whether good or evil, that truly highlights her charm."

By now, Lyrica's eyes were gleaming. "She does sound amazing..." As someone who had previously lived in the slums, hearing about how The Crown Princess cared so tenderly for her fellow people deeply touched Lyrica. Typically, individuals of higher status tended to be snobbish and avoided those from lower classes, using harsh and insulting labels. Lyrica was all too familiar with that. However, there were exceptions—The Crown Princess, who cared for them despite their backgrounds, striving to improve their lives! Lyrica's thoughts began to wander, imagining what her life might have been like if she had encountered The Crown Princess in the past.

The only issue in her thoughts was, "Brinne, how exactly does The Crown Princess look?"

"Hmm... Let me think about how I can describe this. Your Highness, when you gaze at the stars at night, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?" Brinne inquired.

"Well, I always think about how beautiful the stars look tonight," Lyrica responded promptly.

“It’s the same for House (L.N). They possess a certain essence that makes them shine, glitter, and sparkle. The Crown Princess is no exception. She has gorgeous (h.c) hair that sparkles under the sunlight, and (s.c) skin that glows with the moonlight. However, what truly sets The Crown Princess apart within her House is her eyes. Those eyes of hers... are the physical embodiment of her lineage. With (e.c) eyes that sparkle like fine jewels, she carries the entire universe in them."

Lyrica's jaw dropped in amazement. "Is that another form of symbolism...?"

Brinne shook her head. "This time, it's quite literal." Seeing Lyrica's face scrunch up in suspicion, Brinne resisted the urge to giggle. "Oh my, Your Highness. I assure you, I'm not making fun of you for thinking House (L.N) consisted of billions of members. I don't blame you for being skeptical. Eyes resembling the universe? It does sound far-fetched, especially when no one else is known for having such a trait. But, it is the truth."

Lyrica pouted, fiddling with her clothes. "All of this talk just makes me want to meet The Crown Princess!"

"Huhu~ I'm certain The Crown Princess would have loved to meet you too, Your Highness. Unfortunately, current circumstances just won't allow her to do so. With The Crown Prince currently absent, The Crown Princess has temporarily taken over his responsibilities, attending to any work that needs to be accomplished in his stead."

"I can recall a day when The Crown Princess looked like a disaster, seconds away from collapsing onto the ground," Brinne shivered. "As much work as it may be, it's what needs to be done. Again, The Crown Prince and The Crown Princess are destined to ascend to the throne one day, signifying the future management of the nation. Thus, they must demonstrate their capabilities to the people, and most importantly, His Majesty."

“Oh!” Lyrica blinked.

“Hmm… Now, I’m not sure, but, come to think of it, you should be able to see The Crown Princess soon, Your Highness.” Brinne added.

“Oh!?” Lyrica exclaimed in a louder tone.

“His Highness should be returning from his feudal territory very soon. And once he does, Her Highness should be able to take a breather from her piles of work.”

Lyrica fell silent, staring at Brinne with a soft expression. Lyrica then smiled fondly, clasping her hands together. “I know The Crown Princess isn’t fully inside the family as yet… Even so, she would be my cousin. But, still… The Crown Princess… would be some form of big sister, right…?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“YOUR HIGHNESS! I come to you with great news! His Highness should be returning soon!” Gracefully entering the 'Constellation Pollux Chamber,' a maid carrying a golden tray of food and treats hastened toward you, seated upright in your bed, gazing at the scenery beyond your window.

Turning your attention forward, you stared at your maid with widened eyes. "Is that so?" Your surprise quickly morphed into happiness, a smile spreading across your lips as you interlaced your fingers. A flowery aura surrounded you, and your excitement was visible. "That is good news! How long has it been since Atil was gone...? Six months?"

"Precisely," your maid, Breanna, hummed, gently placing the tray on your bed tray table, which you wasted no time digging into. "I can tell that you have many ideas running through your head, Your Highness. I, too, would want to greet someone I cherish with a warm welcome after not seeing them for so long."

"For Atil...? Erm... No, that's not why I'm so excited... I'm excited because I won't have to work as hard as I did anymore!" You beamed without shame. "Ugh, it was torturous... Left, right, and center, it was just piles of paper. Any more, and I would have begun to see the pearly white gates of heaven..."

"Oh, my, is that all? His Highness would be upset if he heard that's the only reason you missed his presence," Breanna giggled.

"...Seriously...?"

"And then there are your new family members, Your Highness."

You paused, fingers clasped around the handle of your spoon. Slowly, you lifted your head to meet your maid's gaze, (e.c) eyes locking with amethyst eyes. "Yes, I have heard about the news. How His Majesty has taken a commoner as his bride, and her child as his daughter."

Your smile widened, lips encased around the tip of the spoon. As if nature were in sync with you, the sunlight cast an ethereal glow on your frame, making you appear more enchanting. Even your maid, who wore a sly smirk seconds prior, jaw slackened, staring at you in awe.

"It's a shame I am unable to do anything at the moment. I can't express just how eager I am to meet them. But one thing's for sure... I already see them as family."

In your eyes was the universe. Stars served as pupils, they glowed with endless glee and anticipation.

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

[prythianpages]

Starstruck | Eris x Rhysand's Sister

series masterlist | summary: Eris finds out the truth of your powers and strikes a bargain with you.

word count: 3.9K

warnings: mentions of blood (from a nose bleed), vague mention of child abuse (there's a flashback of kid Eris, where he has a bruise on his cheek from Beron)

a/n: This takes place right after the events of Just A Girl but in Eris's POV.

The ballroom falls into a stunned silence upon your dramatic exit, the heavy doors slamming shut behind you. Eris pauses, savoring the tension that now crackles in the air. His sharp eyes scan the room, settling on the gathered High Lords and Rhysand.

The firstborn to the Night Court’s lips are pressed tightly together but the occasional shake of his shoulders betrays him. It appears that High Lord Thesan shares the same sentiment, eyes sparkling with poorly concealed amusement. Eris’s gaze then finally lands on his father’s.

High Lord Beron’s face is flushed, his jaw tense in the heat of discussion with your father. His hands gesture wildly, each movement betraying his agitation and High Lord Orion surprisingly just takes it. There’s no apprehension on his face and no mouthing of apologetic words. In fact, High Lord Orion keeps his gaze on Beron but motions for the orchestra to continue playing, bringing life back into the ballroom. Eris’s mouth twitches as he fights to suppress his laughter, wishing his mother had been here to witness it too.

His father had it coming but never would Eris have thought it’d come from you.

He shifts his weight, the rich fabric of his attire whispering against the polished moonstone wall. He lets out a slow, measured breath and then, he counts to sixty. He casts one more glance at his father, before turning away, the ghost of a chuckle finally escaping his lips. He slips out the double doors with an unhurried grace, despite the sudden urge to see you.

Ever since he met you, Eris has been endlessly curious about you. His eyes found you at every event, attention always drawn to you. You were the first daughter to be born to a High Lord and given your older brother’s reputation, it left many–Eris, himself included–what role you would take on.

Would you carry on as emissary? Would you marry for power? Or would you fight for the title of Night Court heir as the sons of Spring and Autumn do? And if so, with what power? At least that question was answered tonight.

Words were seldom spoken amongst one another but Eris had meant to change that tonight. However, it seemed that every year, the demand for your attention only grew higher. Not only were you proving yourself to be a fae capable of great power and responsibility but also of remarkable beauty.

One of Spring’s sons–Heathen, or whatever his name was, Eris couldn’t bring himself to care–was your latest victim. He kept you occupied most of the night and despite your apparent disinterest, Eris found your interactions far too entertaining to save you from it.

**

Eris has frequented the Court of Nightmares but the Moonstone Palace? Not so much. It’s a beautiful maze of opalescent luster with long corridors. Sheer amethysts curtains flutter from the open windows and as he pauses, he picks up on a subtle jasmine scent. He follows it, allowing it to lead him to you.

He finds you in what appears to be a moon garden, surrounded by white peonies and cosmos. A stone arch rests in the middle, where a cascade of jasmine blooms alongside the weathered crevices. The flowers gleam faintly, reminiscent of the tiny stars scattered across the night sky above. You’re leant against the arch, head tilted upwards,  eyes closed and wings slightly curled in.

The moonlight kisses your skin, making you appear as delicate and radiant as the flowers that surround you.  You are like a sweet dream in a Court of Nightmares. Eris takes a step forward, his breath catching at the sight of you. He hesitates, noticing the furrow of your brows. Could you sense him?

But then, he sees something dark trickle down your nose.

Your eyes flutter open, a curse slipping from your lips as you instinctively pinch the bridge of your nose and lean forward. Eris is quick to act as he pulls a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his suit. The fabric is soft and embroidered with his initials in red thread—a detail you fail to notice in your distress.

Without hesitation, you take the handkerchief, pressing it to your nose to staunch the bleeding. “I’m in no mood to deal with the consequences of my actions right now. Save your lecture for tomorrow,” you groan out, your voice tinged with frustration and fatigue.

“Too bad,” Eris tuts. He rejoices in the reaction his voice stirs from you, watching as your body tenses, goosebumps rising on the exposed skin of your arms. “I had an entire speech planned.”

Eris watches with bated breath as you slowly lift your gaze. Your glare is instant and you're shoving the bloodied handkerchief at his chest, not caring if it stains his shirt.

“A thank you would suffice,” Eris says, biting back his amusement, letting the handkerchief fall to the ground. You don’t say anything, your eyes scanning his face in a wary manner.

“That stunt you pulled back there…,” Eris trails off, tilting his head towards the direction of the ballroom. He then gestures to your nose.  “Pretty reckless, if you ask me.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the heat of his gaze and challenge in his words. “Did your father send you here to leave me a message? Pretty embarrassing not to confront me himself, if you ask me,” you finally bite back.

The gravel crunches softly under your heels as you turn away, desperate to put some distance between you both. Eris’s expression shifts, a flicker of determination crossing his face. He refuses to let you go so easily so he mirrors you, taking a step forward for every step you take away from him. 

 “Where are you going? To go retrieve those bastard watch dogs of yours? Don’t tell me you’re scared of me.”

You stop, your wings slightly flaring out behind you. His words strike a chord within you. Just as he expected them to. His gaze lingers on your wings longer than they should. He’s insulted those barbarian so called “brothers” of yours multiple instances for those same exact membranous appendages but on you…on you…he rather not finish that thought for he fears what other emotions they may bring forth.

Eris snaps out of his trance as you turn to face him. He finds himself the recipient of the same seething expression you gifted his father earlier in the ballroom. He should be scared. He can feel the great extent of your power coursing through your veins. How had he not sensed it before?

 Darkness begins to seep out from the velvet expanse of your wings as if your body can no longer contain the strong force itself. There’s a primal instinct warning him of danger, to run. Yet, his feet remain rooted to the ground, even as you walk back to him.

The garden seems to hold its breath, the night creatures lurking among the bushes and trees pausing their song to listen in. Their anticipation seeps into him too as he awaits your move. The skirt of your ballgown brushes against his shoes as you lean in and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with your scent.

 “What do you want?”

“To congratulate you,” Eris responds smoothly, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather, despite the flutter of his heart. He can only hope you don’t pick up on it. He feigns a nonchalant shrug, echoing the same mannerisms you displayed earlier. With deliberate steps, he crosses the space between you and you take another step back until the stone arch presses against your back.

Reaching over your side, Eris plucks a delicate white peony from the garden. The soft petals tremble in his grasp as he offers it to you, his hand extended in a gesture that should be innocuous, yet somehow feels laden with hidden meaning. 

But you don’t accept the flower.

So Eris moves closer, his fingers deftly tucking the small flower behind your ear. The gentle touch startles you, your breath hitching. He leans in toward your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sends a ripple through your wings and the sight stirring something deep inside him.

“Well done, my lady,” he whispers and he can hear the way your pulse quickens. The fire in his veins burns brighter, the heat of his presence becoming suffocating in its intensity. “For your role in establishing peace between the Spring Court and the rest of Prythian. Quite astonishing that High Lord Caldwell agreed to those unfair conditions so easily.”

The tension grows thicker and hotter, a silent battle of wills simmering between you. You can sense the danger in his proximity, the underlying threat in his words. And yet, despite the warning bells that should be ringing in your mind at his display of power, there's a part of you inexplicably drawn to the danger he brings.

Eris should’ve known better, finding his power being undermined. You’ve been trained to dance with danger and the unexpected all your life. The dark tendrils that hid within your wings fly out like leaves fluttering in the wind, teasing him with a chilling caress.

“What can I say? I’m pretty convincing.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady and Eris does not miss the retaliation for his threat in your tone. He lets out a thoughtful hum before pulling back. Amber eyes study your face carefully, catching the way your lips curl into a coy smile.

 “Or a master of emotional manipulation…”

“Me?” You say with a small laugh, pointing at yourself for added emphasis. “I’m just a girl.”

Eris raises a brow at you. His body straightens, hands crossing behind his back as he towers over your smaller frame. You raise an eyebrow back in challenge, not fazed at all.

“I doubt anyone will see you as just a girl after tonight,” Eris says, mocking your tone. “What would the High Lords think of you once they learn that the emissary of the Night Court is an empath? Surely, you know my father wouldn’t take that well…Nor would the Spring Court as they are among your victims.”

“Careful, Eris,” you say, voice smooth and rich. It’s the first time you’ve said his name and he can’t help but fall captive to it, allowing it to wrap around him with an enchanting warmth. It’s short lived as a cool caress teases at his throat. Your darkness. 

“It seems like you’re accusing me of something.”

You were no stranger to dancing with danger but Eris was no stranger to dancing with fire.

“Perhaps, I am.”

“Perhaps, you are confused.”

The dark tendrils lingering around his throat press harshly and his jaw tenses in response. Your gaze hardens, defiance flickering in the depths of your eyes and Eris feels his own emotions heighten. There's a thrill in the air, electric and charged. It tickles at his senses, his visions and thoughts threatening to become a blur.

 Ah, there she is, he thinks as he pushes against the wave. Eris's lips curl into a smug smile as a flash of shock crosses your features. Fleeting but unmistakable. Nonetheless he savors the moment, relishing the sight of your carefully crafted facade slipping.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you continue, despite the tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface. 

The dark tendrils at his throat disappear into the shadows and Eris lets out an exhale, disguising it as a scoff. His hand reaches out, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze and you hold it.

“You can’t fool me, pretty girl.”

Your gaze softens, if only for a moment, and Eris takes advantage of it. “Did you think I’d forget?”

Realization dawns on you, spreading across your face as you remember the first time you met Eris. That was years ago. You were both children and you’re quick to push it away, not wanting to let the innocence of the memory distract you as he wants it to. 

“You’re right,” you tell him. “I can’t fool you but I can make you feel pain.”

Your hand grips his wrist, yanking his hand away from your face. Your gaze darkens once more, gaining your resolve back. You underestimated him and Eris recognizes he needs to act quick. You won’t make the same mistake again. 

“Pain so heavy, it’s suffocating,” you say and Eris struggles to push against the pressure threatening to invade his senses. He takes a step back.

Eris suppresses his wince, masking the growing pain. Something that he's learned to do, given his history with pain. His amber eyes sweep over you from head to toe, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that he knows leaves a burning sensation in their wake by the way your eyebrows furrow.

 Finally, his eyes meet yours once more. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Your carefully donned mask finally falls and your power releases its heavy hold on him. He feels like he can breathe again. 

“What do you want?” you demand once more. 

There’s apprehension in your tone and he doesn’t need your empath abilities to know the effect he had on you. Your emotions are written all over your face. it’s strange, the way it sends warmth to swell in his chest. 

“Money? Land in the Court of Nightmares?”

“My silence is going to cost you a lot more than that,” Eris laughs with a smirk.

“My hand in marriage?” You continue, the words tumbling from your lips with a bitter taste. The thought of binding yourself to him, of sacrificing your freedom for the sake of secrecy, fills you with a sense of dread.

His smirk transforms into something more sinister, more fox-like. It sends a shiver racing down your spine and you begin to fear his answer.

“How about a bargain? I know your court is quite fond of those.”

You raise a brow in question, a silent invitation for him to voice his desires. To lay his cards on the table and reveal the true extent of his demands. Eris’s amusement is palpable. He can feel the desperation radiating off of you and he revels in it. Such a powerful fae like yourself is at his mercy.

“My silence in exchange for a favor,” he finally says.

“What kind of favor?”

“Well, if I told you, it would ruin the fun,” he replies, voice dripping with mischief.

“You and I have different definitions of fun,” you retort, a cold edge creeping into your tone.

“Suit yourself then. I should return to my father, fill him in.” Eris says and he begins to walk away. One..two.., he counts silently in his head.

“Wait!” you call out, your hand reaching out to grasp his, fingers closing around him with a desperate urgency. Three. 

“As long as you help keep my secrets, I will owe you a favor.”

“As long as I keep my mouth shut about your empath abilities, you will owe me a favor,” Eris specifies, catching on to you easily. He resists the urge to turn around to face you.

With a deep exhale, you utter a single word: “Deal.”

A warmth begins to spread from the point where your hands meet, a sensation that starts as a gentle tingling before intensifying into a searing heat. Eris feels the strength of the bargain as it etches itself onto his skin.

Turning back to face you, Eris allows his gaze to fall down to the wrist you still hold. He lets you pull back the cuff of his sleeve along with his coat up to his elbow. A delicate vine winds its way across his skin, adorned with leaves and blossoms that mirror the jasmines of the night court.

A hiss escapes you. It has Eris lifting his gaze. He catches the fleeting moment of vulnerability that flashes across your features as your hand instinctively flies to the back of your neck. He doesn’t have to ask to know that the same design is etched onto the back of your neck.

Yet, he’s filled with the desire to see it. To brush your hair aside, to touch the softness of your skin as he traces the contour of the tattoo with his fingertips.

Instead, he watches as your eyes momentarily glaze over, your mind seeming to drift elsewhere before snapping back to the present with a blink. You release his wrist from your grip and take a step back, as if suddenly aware of the dangerous proximity between you two.

“I have to go.”

You bend down to pick up the bloody handkerchief that he had already forgotten about, clenching it tightly into your fist. And then, you’re walking away from him. He wonders if you sense his gaze lingering on your wings, because in the blink of an eye, they vanish.

“What a shame,” Eris calls out after you. “The fun was just about to get started!”

You pause. Turning your head, Eris catches a glimpse of a cynical smile and he thinks you may just come back to him. But then, you’re lifting one of your hands to flick him off and he can't help but smile.

A twinkle dances in your eyes, shimmering like the stars above. The very same one that left him starstruck all those years ago…

**

years ago...

Eris sits underneath an oak tree, basking in the sunlight that filters through the interwoven leaves of fiery oranges and deep reds. He cradles a small bundle of fur to his chest, gently stroking the velvety length of its ears with his thumb. He uses his free hand to bring a bottle of milk to the tiny pup, a furrow creasing his brow as he observes the animal’s reluctance to feed.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs softly in concern and then even more quietly, he says, “you need to live.”

The pup lets out a small whimper in response, its frail and thin body sagging against him. Tears begin to burn Eris’s eyes, blurring his vision. Eris had stumbled upon the pup a couple of days ago when riding in the forests of Autumn alongside his father. He had followed the cries and whimpers, despite his father telling him not to. The bloodhound pup was left alone to die, leaving Eris to conclude that it must’ve been the runt of its litter. He knew the small animal was sick the moment he picked him up, closer to death than life itself.

Yet, he still begged his father to keep it as he was filled with the sudden urge to protect it. “Fine,” his father had agreed with a disgruntled huff. “Perhaps, it is time you learn what the world does to such weak beings.”

But Eris was determined.

He spent hours in the library with the sick pup cradled in his arms, searching for remedies to help. Nothing seemed to be working but he refused to allow his determination to wave. He wanted to–no, he needed to prove his father wrong.

To prove that something weak can become strong.

“Your pup is sad. She misses her mother.”

Eris startles at the voice. He had been so lost in his thought he hadn’t noticed that someone approached him. He lifts his gaze, blinking at the bright sun until his vision clears. There’s a young girl standing in front of him. She looks to be around his age.

She steps forward, blocking the glare of the sun from his view and takes a closer look at his pup. Eris merely stares at her. He recognizes her as the girl who arrived at the forest house, clinging onto High Lord Orion’s leg. He had been in this same exact spot when she arrived earlier, the scene still painted very vividly in his mind. Because the way she had looked up at her father with such adoration and to have it reflected back as he looked down at her brought a dull ache to his chest.

“And you need a salve for that nasty bruise of yours,” the girl adds.

Eris’s hand instinctively reaches up to his cheek and winces. The bruise is still fresh. A gift from his father. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine,” he replies with a glare.

“You’re in pain but okay,” the girl merely shrugs. She then settles herself across from him and Eris’s scowl deepens. 

“What are you doing?”

“My name is y/n,” she tells him.

“I didn’t ask.”

The girl remains unfazed by his grumpy demeanor. In fact, she seems to make herself even more comfortable, the autumn leaves crunching as she crosses her legs.  “May I?” She asks, gesturing toward the pup.

Eris reluctantly hands the small creature toward her and he doesn’t know why but he feels himself relax, tense shoulders drooping. He watches as the pup nestles its nose comfortably into her neck, letting out a soft whine. The girl giggles and Eris’s eyes widen.

“How did you–”

“Does she have a name?” She interrupts him.

“No,” Eris frowns, regret settling in. He had been too focused on keeping her alive to even consider a name.

The girl reaches out for the bottle in his hand, shifting the pup in her arms to feed her. Once again, the pup refuses to feed. A thoughtful look crosses over the girl’s face. “I think she’s allergic to the milk you’re feeding her,” she says as she hands the pup back to Eris.

Eris glances down at the bloodhound, considering the girl’s words. Perhaps, he should try feeding her goat’s milk instead. His thumb absentmindedly brushes along the pup’s head, stroking over the top of the ear.

“She likes when you do that,” the girl speaks again.

“What are you? An animal whisperer?” Eris teases but there’s an underlying seriousness to his tone.

“Something like that.”

“y/n!”

The girl’s head turns at the sound of her name being called. It’s her father. She turns back to Eris. “I have to go,” she says as she stands up, dusting off the skirt of her dress. “You should give her a name, though. I think it'd make her happy.”

Eris finds himself nodding, mind already racing with ideas on what to name the small pup in his arms. He puts those thoughts on a hold as he realizes there’s something he should do. His mother did teach him some manners, after all.

“y/n!" He calls after the girl.

She stops, turning to look back at him. Her brows furrow in question.

“Thank you,” Eris finally says.

A smile graces the girl’s lips. It lights up her entire face, reaching her eyes and Eris swears he sees a twinkle dancing within the depth of them. It leaves him momentarily dazzled. How can a simple smile be so bright?

“You're welcome.”

And as Eris watches you run back to your father, a name for the pup comes to mind.

[series masterlist]

a/n: any guesses as to what Eris named his first hound? Also, I didn't know what type of hound Eris has in canon so I just went with a bloodhound since they're good at scenting. Tthe flicking off scene was 100% taken from this scene of Maxton Hall because I loved it too much. You can just tell that was the moment James started to fall for Ruby, if he wasn't already.

series taglist: @emy1-9, @lady-of-tearshed, @5onedirection5

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

[reallyromealone]

Title: songbird

Fandom: the apothecary diaries

Pairing: jinshi x male reader

Type: angst

Warning: omegaverse

Notes: a lovely patron wanted this to be public uwu

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

He remembered even when he was a pup, how much he loved (name)... The Omega was his world and stars.

His world calmed when he saw (name).

Then it crumbled before him.

(Name)s voice sounded like it was from the heavens above, a soothing lullaby in Jinshi's darkest hours... God he wished he could hear it.

(Name) was talented... Talented enough for the emperor to notice... And took him as a concubine.

"Always and forever... In this heart of mine..." (Name)s saddened voice would sing softly, practically hidden away in his palace, ladies in waiting nervous for him as he stared longingly at an amethyst hair pin, the color making his heart sting.

Barely eating... Barely sleeping and the love of his life avoided him though he supposed it was for the best, the Emperor practically ignored him when (name) couldn't get in heat, the emperor wondering if the Omega was defective.

Jinshi felt his heart sink as he looked at (name), he was a shell of himself, maomao and the doctor doing a checkup on the Omega who barely acknowledged them. "You haven't had any heats?" Maomao asked confused and (name) just shrugged, "I'm defective..."

But he wasn't, he was just heartbroken, his omega crushed that he couldn't be with his alpha and decided life wasn't worth living... Wouldn't be long till (name) wouldn't wake up at this rate.

"Heartbreak" maomao and the doctor concluded when they left, jinshi already knowing this information, he knew since day one and the sound of (name)s soft voice carried when they walked away "stronger than the heavens..." "And the stars that shine..." Jinshi mumbled as they left, maomao looking curious but didn't speak.

All jinshi could do was watch his love wither away.

And secretly, so was he...

Maybe they could sing together in the after life.

[wheeboo]

venus | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which the love between you and the prince is forbidden. PAIRING. prince!choi seungcheol x servant-commoner!reader (ft. servant-commoner!chan very briefly) GENRE. fluff, angst with a hopeful ending?, forbidden love, royalty au, arranged marriage au (cheol is in an arranged marriage), established secret relationship WARNINGS. cheol and reader both have a lil argument, terms of endearment (darling, love, sweetheart), kissing WORD COUNT. 3.8k

note: fic is vaguely inspired by the bridge part of this song called "venus" by regina song 🫶💕 this is also my first time writing a royalty au, so i hope you enjoy! this also features the very iconic "you came" "you called" line 😭

The ballroom of Pledis Palace is charged with an air of enchantment. The time had just reached the peak of evening. Moonlight filters through the large, grand windows, bathing the open room in an ethereal glow. Along the sides of the ballroom are intricately carved golden marble columns, each one painted with a different tale of the kingdom's past.

In the middle of the ceiling sits a majestic chandelier hanging from a massive, golden chain. The piece is the crown jewel of the ballroom, one that easily draws visitors into all its glory and beauty, and it casts a radiant gleam that seemed to rain down like stardust upon the guests below.

The dance floor reflects the light from the chandelier, creating an illusion of stars twinkling at one's feet. You watch all the elegantly-dressed guests move with grace across the room. The women are all dressed with precise attention to detail, their gowns and jewelry like works of art on a canvas. Some wear dresses in shades of amethyst, emerald, and sapphire, embroidered with beautiful beadwork that glistens like constellations, while others prefer flowing gowns in delicate pastels, as if they've stepped out of a fairytale.

They all hold onto their partners𑁋lavish gentlemen dressed in sophistically tailored suits matching the colours of their ladies' gowns𑁋with utmost love and enjoyment, while you find yourself standing at the side, holding up a tray of drinks as a particular heaviness settles in your chest.

And as your eyes drift ever so slightly, you swear that regardless what direction you look in, he's always there at the end of it, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Yet the light this time was dim and lacked almost all the hope that used to be there when you looked at him.

Not only is the royal family of Pledis here, but also a second one. The Choi royal family of Pledis, and of course, the future in-laws.

Prince Choi Seungcheol is dancing with poise that appeared almost effortless, eyes locked in a tender gaze to his future betrothed, yet the smile to his face doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's the same kind of gaze during the times he would be with you, like in the secret corners of the royal garden that only the two of you knew, or in the times you both snuck out of the castle at the wee hours of the night to stargaze, or the intimate nights you spent with him in his quarters where you had to leave just before daybreak.

It's those times where the certain line between nobility and commoner could be momentarily blurred. It's those times where you both truly felt free in more ways than one.

As you continue to watch the dance and see the way he twirls his betrothed with ease, the world seems to blur, and it felt as if it was just you and Seungcheol in this grand ballroom. His eyes, so familiar yet so distant, meet yours in a fleeting moment. His face falls instantly.

The world and time may have pulled you apart, but in that stolen glance, you were brought back together. In your eyes, you saw the prince who had defied tradition and chosen to be with you without boundaries. In his eyes, he saw the commoner who had been his confidant and, more importantly, his secret love.

"Why are you just standing there? Go tend to your duties," the steward advises you annoyedly, snapping you out of your focus. With a start, you fix your posture, offering a quick nod of understanding to the stern-faced steward.

Hastily, you resume your duty, walking through the large crowd, presenting the tray of drinks and feeling their odd looks linger on you as you move past them. They're taunting you, not with words, but with their subtle, condescending glances. The weight in your chest only deepens with each step you take.

You reach the outskirts of the dance floor, casting another glance towards Seungcheol. His elegant moves and the seemingly affectionate way he held his betrothed gives a bittersweet feeling to your chest, and you can't help but briefly imagine yourself there with him instead𑁋being the one at the end of his smile, the end of his touch.

As the music swelled, the dance finally comes to an end. You watch as the prince gracefully leads his betrothed back to her seat, a warm smile on his face. You know he didn't have much of a choice. He had an obligation to the kingdom, to his family, and to the future over the love he had once whispered to you in the hidden corners of the royal gardens.

Your heart aches again, but you understand. You couldn't be a part of his world, no matter how much he cared for you.

You don't catch the way his eyes follow you once you dismiss yourself out of the ballroom, struggling to hold your tears back.

"Y/N, don't you think you overwatered this area right here?" Chan, a fellow gardener for the royal garden and closest friend, taps lightly on your shoulder, startling you out of your daze and nearly the watering can in your hands. You blink rapidly, bringing yourself back to the present.

All you manage is a weak smile, some embarrassment and guilt flooding your senses. "Sorry, I... I guess my mind was elsewhere."

He gives you a knowing look, gaze sympathetic yet encouraging. "It's okay. I know things haven't been the best recently." He gestures toward the grand castle behind you, its towers standing tall and proud. You know exactly what he's talking about, and it makes you let out a sigh, facing back towards the garden in front of you.

You've poured your heart into the royal garden for so long, finding comfort in its quiet beauty and the therapeutic rhythm of tending to its blooms from day to night.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the moon begins to rise, the garden transforms into a world of magic. The abundance of flowers surrounding you seem to glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and their scent becomes more rich in the cool night air. The air carries a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of leaves soothes your troubled mind.

There was just something about simply being with nature𑁋in the royal garden and with the beauty that exists outside its walls𑁋that allows you to breathe more freely. Sometimes, you swear that even the flowers are capable of whispering words of their own, as if sharing stories with you alone, or stories that you used to listen to with one particular man.

Just as you're about to finish watering one last final section, you hear Chan's distant voice from afar.

"Y-Your Highness! What brings you here at this hour?"

You freeze in place, the almost-empty watering can slipping from your fingers as you turn around.

Prince Seungcheol stands at the edge of the garden, his gracious figure silhouetted against the moonlit scenery. He's dressed in his nighttime attire, a pair of simple yet elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt that flows slightly in the cool breeze. His gaze flickers between you and Chan, a hint of curiosity in his expression, and the two of you both offer a respectful bow in his direction as he approaches.

"I just wanted some fresh air," Seungcheol answers sharply, locking his eyes with yours, and there's a small smile that graces his lips once he catches sight of you. "It's peaceful here in the garden, isn't it?"

You heart only flutters to his words, yet that arrow of sadness pierces through your chest. However, even below the auroral skies and with the intoxicating fragrance of flowers all around, your heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

"Chan, you may excuse us for a moment." He gestures to the young boy, his voice carrying a warm, reassuring tone that you've longed to hear.

With a quick nod, Chan offers a polite bow, shooting you a glance before slipping his way back in the direction of the castle, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol approaches you, the distance between you decreasing until you're standing just a breath away from each other. You both remain in a contemplative silence, neither of you wanting to break the fragile moment that has been rekindled after so long.

Finally, he speaks in a hushed tone. "You've been avoiding me."

Your gaze is quick to fall to the ground in guilt, unable to meet his eyes.

"You know I had to," You reply simply, voice barely more than a whisper. "We can't be together, Cheol. You should know this better than me. It was the only choice you had. Duty called, and you answered."

Seungcheol's face only contorts with a mix of anguish and frustration. "Duty? Duty won't keep me warm at night, Y/N. Duty won't make me feel alive. You are what my heart longs for. You should know this. This is all purely arranged, don't you remember?"

You let out an audible scoff, feeling your hands crumple into fists at your side. "You're being selfish right now. Think about the kingdom, your family, and the future you're meant to build. Don't you see why we can't... we can't be together? It's inevitable. We shouldn't..." Your find your voice drifting away, words getting caught in your throat.

He steps even closer, his frustration boiling over into desperation. "I am thinking about them. I think about them every day, but I... I can't stop thinking about you either. I can't stop loving you."

"This love won't feed the hungry, Seungcheol. This love won't protect our people. This love won't secure the kingdom's future. This love won't change the fact that I'm merely a commoner and you're a prince."

The moonlight accentuates the sadness in his eyes as your words sink in, and you find yourself unable to hold back the tears that have welled up. The two of you only stand there for a few long moments, simply gazing in each other's glassy eyes, feeling like the garden itself was holding in a breath of its own.

Then in a sudden moment of vulnerability, you step closer to him, resting your head against his chest, taking in his familiar warmth and the scent you've longed for as your tears stain his shirt. Seungcheol wraps you in his strong arms, pulling you closer, and you feel his heartbeat against your body, steady and comforting. It's a sound you've always loved listening to whenever you embraced each other.

"I've missed you, darling," he mutters quietly. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me?"

With his arms around you, you feel a warmth that fills the void in your heart. It's a sensation you've yearned for the past few torturous months.

"I-I've missed you too," You confess, voice trembling. "But... but we can't𑁋"

"Please," he pleads softly, tightening his hold around you. "Can't I just hold you?"

The tenderness his voice holds cuts you off, and you can't help the way your fingers instinctively knead at his shirt.

Seungcheol holds you tightly, as if he's afraid that letting go will make you vanish into thin air. In this fleeting moment, there's no kingdom to rule, no traditions to uphold𑁋just the two of you, reunited in an embrace that disregards the confines of your roles. It's as if the world beyond this secluded royal garden has ceased to exist, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

"I love you," he murmurs, voice heavy with sorrow, his lips brushing against your hair. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Usually that particularly intimate exchange brings those flutters to your stomach and a giddy smile to your face, but instead, it only makes your heart throb. Though you know with every fibre in your body that it's true𑁋that you love each other. It's not a secret, nor a feeling to deny.

You find yourself pulling away slightly, angling your head up to be able to take a look at him. His gaze meets yours halfway, and the intensity in his dark pupils nearly takes your breath away. He searches your eyes for a moment, before drawing his lips near yours, his intent clear. For a heartbeat, you're tempted to give in𑁋to taste the sweetness of his kiss once more.

But then the weight of responsibility, the duty you've always known, everything, pulls you back.

"I-I can't," You whisper, the words escaping your lips shakily. "We can't, Seungcheol. It-It's not right."

Seungcheol's breath hitches as you pull away. His lips hover just inches from yours, yearning for a connection that seems increasingly unattainable.

"I know," he replies quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. He still doesn't want to let you go. "I understand. I'm sorry."

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, caressing his skin softly. "The kingdom needs you. Your people need you. They need a strong, capable leader. They need their prince."

Seungcheol's jaw tightens. "And what about what I need? What about what my heart seeks?"

You only gaze longingly at him. The two of you know the answer to that. You don't have to say anything before he understands with a sigh. His expression softens with a mix of resignation and affection, and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Your Highness, your presence is requested back in the palace," Chan's voice calls out from behind, breaking the fragile moment between the two of you.

Seungcheol releases your hand defeatedly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

However, instead of backing away, he leans back in close to whisper into your ears, "Come meet me at the royal ballroom tomorrow at midnight," Then he pauses, contemplating, and adding on, "if you wish, of course."

Then his lips curl into a bittersweet smile before turning away to leave. The sound of his footsteps gradually fades as he walks away back towards the palace, leaving you standing amidst the fragrant blooms and under the rays of soft moonlight.

Come meet me at the royal ballroom... midnight... if you wish. Seungcheol's words have been echoing in your mind for the entirety of the day, sometimes even distracting you from the duties you are assigned to in the royal garden.

The more you thought over his invitation, the more it felt like an impossible temptation, knowing well of the risks and consequences it could bring.

The day passes in a blur, the sun making its daily journey across the sky, casting a warm and inviting glow over the palace and the royal garden. And when the late night finally takes over, and the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself cautiously walking down the large corridor of the palace, your feet instinctively bringing you in the direction of the royal ballroom. It's eerily quiet at this time, nothing but skeleton staff that still heightens your paranoid senses of getting caught.

Yet as you stop in front of the grand doors of the ballroom, your heart quickens its pace. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Should you really be doing this? Was it entirely a good idea to be here?

But just the thought of simply him draws you in, your hand briefly gliding over the glistening doorknob.

With a determined sigh, you take the leap and push the heavy doors open. The ballroom lies before you, bathed in the silvery luminescence filtering through the grand windows. Your heart races as you step inside.

The ballroom is empty, deserted practically. All of the lights, including the large chandelier, were switched off, the only source coming from the outside world through the tall windows.

As you step further into the room, the sounds of your shoes echoing throughout, the sheer emptiness of the place becomes more apparent. You swear you even hear your own thoughts bouncing off the walls of the room. Doubts start to creep into your mind. What if he doesn't come? What if this was all a mistake?

However, just as you're about to give in to the feeling of hopelessness, you hear a soft sound from behind you. You turn to find Seungcheol entering the ballroom and closing the door shut. He's dressed in a simple black suit, and there's a twinge of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrors your own.

"You came," he says, and his voice is so soft that you can barely hear it over your racing heart.

You fully turn yourself to him, swallowing down a nervous lump in your throat.

"You called."

Seungcheol's eyes light up, and a faint smile crosses his lips as he steps closer to you. The moonlight bathes him in an celestial glow, accentuating his princely features. But in this moment, he's just the man you've been in love with for so long.

He extends his hand toward you, eyes locked onto yours, inviting you to share a dance with him.

"May I?" he asks gentlemanly, and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You hesitate for a brief moment, glancing down at his hand and back up to his face. "I... I don't know how..."

Seungcheol's smile remains warm and encouraging, his hand still extended toward you.

"It's okay," he says softly. "I'll teach you. Just follow my lead."

Tentatively, you place your hand in his. His grip is firm yet gentle as he guides you to the centre of the empty dance floor, a certain eager bounce in his step that you notice, and the stars painting the ground seem to come to life as you stand with him. Seungcheol places his hand on your waist, and the warmth of his palm against your skin sends shivers down your spine. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to steady your breathing as you prepare to follow his lead.

At first, your steps are awkward, but you try your best to mimic the elegance and grace that he naturally possesses. He's probably had personal training for this kind of thing, You think.

You chuckle at the small moments where your feet accidentally bump or you step on his toes, and Seungcheol's laughter mingles with yours. Nothing but a soft melody of an imagined song fills the silence as the two of you move together in the middle of the ballroom.

"You're doing great," he whispers, breath brushing against your ear as you sway together.

It's scarily easy to lose yourself in Seungcheol's eyes. They're the same eyes that once whispered secrets of love to you beneath the stars. Now they say a lot without saying anything.

You don't know how long you've been dancing, but it feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The world outside the ballroom may be waiting, filled with your separate responsibilities and expectations, but in this moment, it's just you and him.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" Seungcheol comments, even though you were only dressed in your servant uniform.

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, and offer a shy smile. "I'm not as stunning as the ladies at the court, nor your betrothed."

Seungcheol gently tilts your chin upward, making sure you meet his eyes.

"Every time I look at you, I feel like I fall in love all over again." His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek. "Every time I watch you down tending to the garden through my quarters, I feel as if you're tending to my heart. I can simply say that you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, sweetheart."

His words make your heart swell out of your chest, his grip on your waist tightening imperceptibly, drawing you closer to him. The space between you vanishes, and you can feel the heat of his body seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you. Seungcheol could shower you with praises all day long, and you would never tire of hearing them. He has a way of making you feel special, cherished, and utterly adored.

"Cheol?" You call out, voice tinged with vulnerability.

He raises an eyebrow, still guiding you through the dance. "Yes, love?"

"Are we crazy for doing this?" You ask. It's meant to be rhetorical in a way, but the uncertainty in your voice lingers, and Seungcheol's expression becomes more serious.

He slows the movement between you two, his pensive eyes locked onto yours.

"Perhaps we are," he admits wholeheartedly. "but I'd rather be crazy with you than live a life without you."

His words quietly suspend in the air around you. The moments pass, but they feel eternal, as if time itself has momentarily paused to let the two of you be together. You're captured in his eyes, just like he is with yours. You see the emotions he's trying to convey: love, longing, and the knowledge that this moment is both a blessing and a curse.

And then without a word, you both lean in at the same time, lips meeting each other's in a kiss both softly and tenderly. It's a stolen moment; it's a secret scene that only the moon and stars witness.

His arms pull you closer, fingers dancing along your spine, as if he's trying to bridge any space that might exist between you. It's a kiss that tastes of bittersweet nostalgia𑁋something of what once was and what could never be. You savour the taste of him on your lips, knowing that once the morning light arrives, this moment may become nothing more than a distant memory.

As your lips break away, you both draw back slightly, foreheads touching, breathing heavily as you savour the precious seconds of closeness.

"You know that I'd give up everything for you," he whispers, breath warm against your skin.

You only smile, tracing your fingers gently over his lips. He leans into your touch.

"I know," You say softly. "And I would do the same for you."

"But just for tonight." He pushes back some strands of hair behind your ear. "Can we pretend that the world doesn't matter?"

You peer into his eyes, and for a moment, you see a reflection of your own pining. Your heart sinks, but it also rises. A smile drifts across your face, but it also carries a trace of sadness. Leaning in, you nearly press your lips against his once again, but then you take in a deep breath.

"Yes," is all you mutter. "I'm all yours."

That's all it takes for him to kiss you again, a bit more fervently and urgently that it nearly makes you stumble in surprise. But the second you pull back from each other, he's grabbing your hand in his, a bright smile to his face, before twirling you around and pulling you in close once more, your laughter echoing in the empty ballroom together. You share one more kiss, and then another, and another, whispers of hushed I love you's against each other’s lips as the night goes on like it will never end.

And it's with each minute that passes that only strengthens Seungcheol's determination𑁋that in some way, he will make sure you both will be together, whether that means escaping the constraints of your worlds, finding a way to keep your love alive in secret, or even sacrificing a part of himself.

With each kiss, he silently promises you that he will find a way. With each kiss, you silently promise to love and wait for him.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1

[controld3vil]

upset much?

PAIRING: AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER SYNOPSIS: you drive your husband mad when you want to go dragon riding. NOTES: - reader's house is not specified - this is all fluff lol! i just wanted a happy moment with the greens :) - btw tysm for the love from my last work! ik its been months since then but i really do appreciate the constant support!

WEARINESS adorned your delicate features upon the break of dawn. The faint beam that brimmed through your pearl curtains to the vivid gold chamber. A gust of wind blows across your bedroom, allowing the blinds to sway mindlessly. On the day of the sunrise, many of the royal family prepare for the following course. Members of Kingsguard stand and patrol the sacred grounds of the quarters you’ve become familiar with. King’s Landing, the palace is known not to stay awake at night despite no festivity. The morrow is lively and occupied by staff members and Council debating politics. 

However, unlike the latter, you have not aroused. Neither the morning dew nor the breeze stirs you awake. Instead, you leisurely heave and twist until you are snug amongst the veils and cushions. Though your drowsiness soon dwindles as the gates to your enclosure are unlatched. A small group of maidens trod inside and presently began to busy themselves. Some started to tend your wardrobe. A few others cleared your vanity and lounge of its cluster. A few paces behind them revealed Princess Helaena in her relaxed green gown. 

You wouldn't be able to see her expression. But you could assume by the pace of her efforts Helaena appeared distressed. Her rushed movements halted when you felt the cushions of your bed flatten a bit. A soft exhale came out of her throat in a moment of ease.

You couldn’t help but snicker under the blankets. Helaena’s kind heart was fickle, often leading to her becoming expressive at times of assertiveness. You emphasized with her. The painful hole in your chest when in the events of tragedy is a natural emotion. However, when you could not wake up from a prior’s day's work, a simple uncertainty provoked your dear sister-in-law to panic - a spiral of disaster on either part of the receiver or contributor.

In your serene eyes, Helaena was a deity not to be trifled with. Her tender heart and caring personality are too endearing to disregard. 

“Fret not sister, I’ve awoken,” you calmly voice to reassure her of your condition. Her pristine silver locks careen across her shoulders as she pivots to glance at you. Her amethyst orbs shimmered in the daylight that had earlier ascended. “I apologize for the delay to breakfast.” 

In response, she soughs childishly. “You startled me!” Another exhale as she mumbles your name. “Mother was worried if you were going to show up.” You could sense enjoyment in her tone as her lips gradually curled into a smile.

“It's too early for breakfast,” you grumble jokingly - turning to face the window. Again you can discern a giggle as Helaena quickly snatches the many layers that cover your figure. The two of you playfully fought back and forth between the sheets while the maids wandered about. Some periodically snickered - others held cheerful grins, marveling at your sweet banter with the Targaryen princess. 

Helaena was your first companion when you first arrived at King's Landing. Her miniature and doll-like features piqued your curiosity. It left you in awe. Moreover, her early infatuation with bugs and insects directed you to the pleasure of her presence. Many of your chats were regarding all types of matters. Her attentiveness aviated endlessly - you performed everything with her. Wherever you stood in the palace, Helaena was beside you. You were conceivably the first and only female friend she had in King’s Landing.

“It's past seven, silly!” she giggles affectionately. She hauls the last tug from your blankets. You eventually unleash your grasp and brace yourself on your elbows. Helaena likewise beams as she delineates your weary features with her fingers. “You must eat. Come, my mother is waiting for us!”

“I can't get up,” you pout, attending her laughter. She looked far too pleased upon your disheveled state. You know she means no harm and did not want to push you into any discomforting situation. Breakfast with the Queen Regent is of importance. She was to be your mother-in-law - in other ways, already a maternal figure in your life. You can hope she understands your delay and weary condition. 

Down the halls of the palace, vociferous footsteps echo across the hallways. The impulsive arrival of another family member of House Targaryen stunned a few of the maids as they hastened their work. You peek towards the unrestricted doors to find Helaena with her expression more optimistic. Possibly she was eager to see her brother in a state of recklessness.

“Aemond,” Helaena hums with a hint of giddiness. He reaches a stop a few feet from your bed railings. The maidens skim up anxiously at the eye-patched prince and then at his sister. Regardless, out of fear, they all scurry out of the room as quickly as possible. You wonder if his presence always alerts the working members of King’s Landing like mice. And as if Helaena had listened to your thoughts, she teasingly questions, “Must you always scare off the maids?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks with such confusion and determination. You could undoubtedly tell he was not in a jesting mood. Your sister-in-law notices and gives him a curt smile. She furthermore turns to you and reaches for your hand. You recuperate her action and clutch her hand softly and her cheeks glow pink. 

“I’ll be waiting in the dining room,” she asserts in a quiet whisper. You nod and clutch her hand one more time before releasing. Her eyes glow with tenderness as she glimpses back and forth between you and your fiancé. “I’ll be waiting!”

As she skipped out of the room, Aemond unwinds his shoulders. The silence was consistently a recurrence in your relationship with Aemond. You would still find comfort in his presence. Aemond is calm and precise with his tongue. His eloquent indication is a quality you often admire. Thus you do not mind the casual tranquility between the two of you. It gives you a moment to admire him in his formal attire of a leather suit, colored in all black. His eyepatch hangs securely on his left eye. 

Aemond acknowledges your stare and calmly strides to the curtained window. In moments of close intimacy, unknown to you, your fiancé feels awkward. He can't find the proper words to communicate to you. It nearly feels absurd of him to tell you his sentiments. An hour prior, his god-forsaken brother admittedly teases him of you having the flu. He implies that you seemed stressed from all the work you have been assisting the Queen. His mother had many duties daily. It was more than honorable of you to offer your service. Was it too much? Did you feel pressure from the Council and his grandsire? 

To his relief, you were not sick. You were healthy and alive. And as he tries to ignore your gaze, Aemond finds it difficult on what to say next. It is immature and ridiculous of him to fall for such a plan trick. 

But the matter was concerning you.

The young prince could never turn his back on you. He values your tolerance with his insufferable thoughts. As much as he wanted to ponder all the ways to get back at Aegon, you were still present, lounging.

“I am not hurt or ill,” you perk up, reminding him of the question he had asked. The silver-haired prince turns to see you stretch your arms. In a catlike way, you crane your neck upwards idly. With a groan, you add. “The maesters made sure of it.”

“Are you perhaps troubled?” The way he interrogates you is awkward and stiff. It must be difficult for him - you wager. It's easy to fake intimacy in front of guests and merchants. However, inside the establishment where only servants and guards are present, the importance of reputation is less stringent. Maintaining a sense of dignity is critical to avoid rumors and rejection.

“No, just restless,” You smile sleepily. You lay in the soft cushions of your bed. Your blanket is smooth and plush with cotton - excessively applied with your favorite fragrance. The oriental scent of amber fills your nose with ease. The perfume is faint yet potent. “Though I wished I had milk of the poppy.”

“The milk of the poppy will kill you, lady wife,” he responds in a composed and assertive manner. As you gaze, you notice his eyes locked onto yours. 

"Why are you so concerned that you rushed into my chambers?" You meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. The bright summer rays of King's Landing reflect off his shining sapphire eye. Although he was concerned about your well-being, he hesitated to acknowledge it. It is up to him to decide whether to accept accountability or brush it off as mere jest. It's worth noting that he initiated the topic that ultimately led to your triumph.

You relish in your triumph when Aemond fails to respond. He turned and pushed back the curtains, allowing more light to enter the room. You were aware he couldn't bring himself to admit it due to his excessive pride. Despite your desire to tease and mock, you acknowledged the thoughtfulness in his actions. Aemond's reputation remains intact even without the presence of citizens and working staff to observe him. He possessed exceptional sword-fighting abilities and was known for his unforgiving precision. He exhibits unwavering commitment and dedication to carrying out his duties. Having trained with Criston Cole for years, he has learned the importance of strategy and strength. And his greatest attribute is his ability to remain silent.

After some contemplation, you decide to get out of bed. Your bare feet come into contact with the stone-cold floors as you pursue your fiancé. You proceed cautiously and approach him from behind, getting closer to him. Slowly raising your hands to trace the leather-laced armor of his, you can feel his shoulders lower in exhaustion. 

For six months, you two drastically bonded over many things. Aemond became accustomed to your presence and hobbies gradually. The closer you got to him, the more you sought him out. It would start as casual conversations of each other’s day to extensive discussions of politics. You did not mind his forlorn interest in philosophy or combat - his interests allowed him the most freedom to speak. Close intimacy slowly became gradual. You were grateful for the relationship the two of you have created. The trust you built between each other was serene and comforting. As you hug your lover from behind, you tilt your head behind his shoulder. In addition, Aemond hugs your forearms for support. 

“Would the Queen Mother be upset if we showed up late, dear husband?” you rubbed your eyes out of tiredness. Aemond narrows his eyes down at you meticulously. 

“She could never be upset with you, love,” he murmurs, clenching his jaw.

You lovingly smile, holding out your hand. “Help me get ready?” 

The way the sun beams beautifully down your figure makes his heart beat faster. He nods in agreement as you lead him hand in hand-to your wardrobe. The maidens that were present earlier had everything arranged according to your liking. You were lucky they came on such short notice. Your bedroom was abandoned - with the workload you helped with the Queen.

Something Aemond fails to acknowledge is his fondness for you. He finds it challenging to express his feelings to you. After all, you find it so naturally. But you are sly and discreetly tease him about it nonstop. Yet the short attempts of affection he tries are enough for you. Every action and phrase he speaks is enough for you. The way his heart yearns more for your attention and touch is overwhelming. It’s sickening. When he feels his emotion elevates, heat rises from his chest. To say you were a goddess. You look enchanting regardless of what you wear. His House colors of red and black only made your beauty more refined. The dark tones it alludes to make you look irresistible to the eye.

Aemond stares at your back, eyes softening. People often allude to his cold exterior and unwavering status. But what they can't deny is the way he looks at you. It's a redundant routine people gossip about. They detest - how can an elegant lady seduce a man like himself? Second sons are rumored to be mischievous - with a lack of devotion. Therefore it brings the entire realm stunned when Aemond shows up with you. His delicate gestures towards you surprise many of your close relatives. Even his family finds his devotion strange. However, the silver-haired prince doesn't care. 

You're his ire, his muse. The way you sway back and forth in your nightgown - he feels lightheaded. Your hair is loose and messy, covering your shoulders. It's beautiful without the ribbons and braids. He knows you desperately wish to let your hair down more often. However, it is prohibited and considered to be unladylike. However, your face was glowing. Your rosy cheeks faintly remind him of peaches as well. And the flutter of your eyelashes makes your pouty expression more captivating. 

He blames the sun for its ability to elevate your features. You were delicate like this. With no stress, you were much happier and content. The Councilmen and Queen should not have to pressure you. It was their position and status to oversee all functions of King's Landing. You mustn't bother yourself with extensive work and paperwork. 

His thoughts were interrupted by you humming. You can sense his attentiveness was directed at you now. You present two dresses in front of him. One dress of his House colors while the other of yours. His choice was almost immediate by how his keen eye gazed longingly at it.

“Of course, you chose this,” you fling the disregarded dress back into the closest. “These are your favorite colors.” Your prince almost gives you a look, furrowing his eyebrows.

Instead, he says, “It suits you,” walking behind you to undo your nightgown laces. “You're a part of the family now.” 

Aemond helps you, one leg at a time, and into the black dress. He adjusts the straps around your shoulders. The eventual silence that follows feels natural as the two of you maneuver over fixing any mishaps the dress needs. You annoyingly pull at the tight sleeves near your biceps - in return, your fiancé expands the straps to allow more comfort. 

You’ve never realized how gentle he was with you. His presence itself gives you solace. There is no distress or discomfort. It’s the mutual understanding between you and him that solidifies your marriage. Alicent was lucky enough to have caught your affections on the day you visited King’s Landing. You were fortunate to meet Helaena. Without her help, you would not have been able to explore the castle halls. Without Helaena, you would not have met Aemond. For a mundane trip, it turned out to be exciting the next. After years of yearning and fear, Queen Alicent accepted your betrothal.

The dining table was beautifully vibrant in its many colors of fruits and savory dishes. While - the room carried dark tones of cold brick walls. The laggard cracks complement the heavily decorated windows. It brings out the illuminated light reaching from the dining table. It's rustic but comforting. In every corner, candles and the smell of the burning fireplaces dance back and forth. Baked goods and wine lay settled in the middle of the plateau. In truth, morning breakfast looked more like a party appetizer. With its many aromas, sweet and savory mix richly alongside the heavy wooden burned flames.

The window nearest to the doors lay bare, allowing fresh air to cleanse over the overwhelming flavorful goods. It was a meal fit for kings and queens. And truth, you were grateful to be living in King’s Landing with the Targaryens. Even though they hold the most power in the Seven Kingdoms, they welcomed you with open arms as the newest addition to their family. You’ve always feared that the Targaryens were greedy and ambitious rulers. Many kings passed through generations in time were either cruel or kind. But for most of your life, King Viserys was the latter, the most considerate and compassionate ruler of all of Westeros. 

Because of his absence, you felt disheartened. On the few occasions you met, King Viserys was welcoming. He was enthusiastic about the marriage. His greetings were always with proud smiles. However, they never last when his eyes droop slightly. As if you could sense his conflicted thoughts, Viserys returns with a nervous nod. You can perceive a sense of hesitance and sadness that washes over the king. Those small interactions have made you grow to care for him more. There was an urge to seek him out - to always ask about his well-being. 

 Queen Alicent is polite and considerate. Since your stay at King's Landing, Alicent has been your mentor and friend. She helps you adjust to your new home. She allows you to listen to the gossip her maids speak of. You follow her on every trip she takes. You might have mistaken it to be her lady-in-waiting. In truth, she values your placement in Aemond's life and enjoys your conversations over tea and dessert. 

“Good morning,” The queen gently smiles, clutching your hand. You squeeze her hand and return her smile. 

“Good morning, my Queen.”

“Come, have a seat. There is plenty of food to go around,” Alicent gestures towards the remaining chairs across from Helaena and Aegon. Their twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys , sat at the ends of the table with two maids. You swiftly sit across from your sister-in-law. Your fiancé takes out his chair and sits quietly. “How are you feeling, dear?”

You almost forgot. Last night you went to bed early because of how exhausted you were. Alicent has insisted you retire early and take milk of the poppy if necessary. The maids around you wordlessly escorted you out. Your mind was hazy - you assumed you passed out. And when you woke to see the sunrise, you knew a day had passed. You weren’t sure if the poetry reading or running through the Red Keeps with the twins were the reason for your dilemma. But whatever was plaguing your mind was long forgotten. Though since you had woken up, your body felt sore and sluggish.

“I feel better, thank you.” In time, you were thankful for Alicent’s motherly qualities. Though you desperately miss your mother, she was never as kind-hearted and benevolent as the Queen. “I have thought about taking milk of the poppy-”

“You won’t be taking the milk of the poppy, my love,” Aemond voices, grasping your hand on the table. This action does not go unnoticed by his older brother - who quirks his eyebrow. “She is in better condition than she was before. There is no need for that.” 

“Well, that is good to hear…” the Queen mother cheekily beams, crossing her hands together. “Shall we say our prayers?” Everyone nods in silence, listening to Alicent’s chanting words. Targaryens do not accept the Seven as their gods. They are closer to the gods than men. In respect of House Hightower, some rituals have stayed in the presence of the Queen. She is keen on keeping some of her customs alive with her children. 

Straight after prayers, Aegon calls out your name. “Would you like to go dragon riding?” You look up at your brother-in-law in excitement. But before answering, he also adds. “The weather today is beautiful. We should ride out by Blackwater Bay.”

“I think that would be a lovely idea.” his wife, Helaena adds, patting her child. Her son, Jaehaerys babbles nonsense while his sister claps her hands eagerly.

“It sounds delightful,” you bashfully gleam, straightening your back from your chair. “Since the storm, I do believe the weather has dramatically improved.” You can feel his hand stiffen on top of yours. There was a valid reason for the prolonged discussion. Aemond tries to shrug it off, demeaning as if you are unfit to ride yet. He worries for your safety and avoids the conversation whenever you bring it up.

“It has,” Alicent softly mumbles before placing a piece of fruit into her mouth. After chewing, she then adds. “I think it would be good for the four of you to spend time together.”

“No.” Your husband upsettingly says upon placing his fork back. Your fiancé had a rough relationship with his brother. Aemond would rather spend time with you alone than have Aegon intrude. Aegon was bothersome and a nuisance in his eyes. It did not help that Helaena was by his side. He could never deny ignoring his older sister - he would have to endure it.  

Aegon looks at his younger brother mockingly. “Why so, brother? It would be fun to spend time with your siblings and future lady wife.” You can sense his anger is ticking higher and higher with Aegon’s pestering. The room suddenly felt tense - even the children quieted down. Helaena sat beside her husband, twiddled her fingers, and said nothing. Not once did she intervene between the two princes. It was something not even the Queen could detest. Targaryens were known for their hard-boiled temper. Violence was within their domain. It was something you were aware of - that did not stop you from intervening.

“That is exactly why I would not want to,” Aemond says with irritation. Alicent was quick to pierce her lips in weariness, afraid of what events might transpire next. “I will not have you alongside my lady wife go dragon riding. She is not fit to ride.”

"Funny since, as I recall, she has lived here for six months. She can handle being around dragons!” His older brother laughs, eyeing you to back his claims. Despite your anger, you agreed with Aegon. Your lack of intimacy with the dragons in the Dragonpit was natural. For six months, you have grown closer to Aemond and Vhagar. Occasionally you would meet him and his dragon outside the kingdom. Meeting her for the first time terrified you. 

Dragons were a majestic delicacy even for your House. They were rare legendary beasts from the time of old Valyria. Every time you meet her, she gradually becomes comfortable around you. You can tell whenever she takes in your scent occasionally that she knows you would be a frequent visitor. Progress with Vhagar was slow and favorable. Aemond has encouraged you to move closer to her prominent form. Once you were in close vicinity, it felt exhilarating. Her large snout and rough scales were captivating. Her size intimated you first - eventually, you grew to appreciate her stature. She held such power that not even Sunfrye or Dreamfrye could compare. 

Tightening your grip, you turn to your fiancé. "Fret not husband," You say in a soothing tone. Aemond's eyes soften, and the crease on his eye flattens. "I think it would be fun to fly alongside Aegon and Helaena. And I promise to be careful." His stare is unwavering, looking into the souls of your eyes with confidence. You can tell he is thinking of all the possible ways to deny your promise. Many casualties could happen out of his control when riding a dragon. It is risky - he was born to ride one. You were not. 

“You will not be riding on either Sunfrye or Dreamfrye.” he slowly sneers and looks back at his brother. Jokingly again, Aegon wickedly grins and raises his glass to sip. Helaena, unbeknownst to everyone, released a breath she had been holding for the entirety of their conversation. Alicent also sighs in relief, eternally grateful to have your caring nature. 

“You all best eat and dress appropriately for the summer winds.” Alicent again states, taking a slip of her fresh drink. You can help but gleam happily beside your fiancé. 

In honesty, the summer wind was as hectic as last night. The storm previously struck many waves, and disaster in the forest was no different. However, the sun shines brightly without thundering clouds. As the day spring glows down on your attire, you suddenly feel nausea. It possibly was from the intense smell of euthymic or the lingering scent of dragons. You wore a tight tunic with black gloves. You were also grateful for Helaena’s assistance as you’ve never worn dragon riding gear before. 

It would be your first time riding a dragon. Something you desperately looked forward to from the first moment you officially met Vhagar. She was massive and intimating. Much like your so-called future husband, she was brooding and quiet. She should know many values of how she groaned and blinked curiously at you for the first time. Aemond was reluctant to allow ease between the two of you beforehand. He believed it was best if you were to live in King’s Landing with him, you had to become accustomed to Vhagar. Through many meetings and encouragement, you’ve become rather fond of the oldest dragon in the world. She was gray and incredibly violent but also peculiar and playful. 

Therefore whenever you jumped at the opportunity to pet her, she lightheartedly nudged you. And on a day when you would be traveling with two more dragons, you were more than happy to ride alongside her. When you stepped onto the field where she lay, Vhagar abruptly rose to look down at you. 

Aemond takes notice in her quick position and stops the two of you. Your eyes twinkle in glee, shouting in Valyrian, “Hello, Vhagar!”

In return, she howls in the loud grumble that shakes the ground beneath her. The grasses wither in terror, similar to the dragon tamers who watch from afar. Knowingly no one could tame Vhagar at her size, Aemond is the only one allowed to survey her. Even when she barely fits in the Dragonspit, he’s reluctant for her to stay outdoors on the open valleys and terrains as she pleases.

A few feet behind you, Aegon shouts back at you. “You know the Valyrian tongue?” in such surprise that you laugh at his bewildered expression. Helaena, following her husband, claps in enjoyment, proud of your fluency. Your soon-to-be husband grins at you in satisfaction though none of the other dragon tamers nor Helaena see. You giddily chuckle before dragging him towards the beast. Only you and Vhagar were able to witness him in this state.

“How else would I be able to communicate with Vhagar?!” Teasingly back, you turn to Vhagar almost mutually she nods. Admittedly, you and Aemond stroll toward her towering form in adoration. Even to this day, you were impressively intimidated by her size. Yet only a mere interaction, your heart shortly slows down and makes you realize you cherish her in every circumstance.

You make your way up the saddle that holds onto Vhagar's back. Ropes that hang alongside her back require endurance and strength. The ropes interlocked like nets used for fishing. For a few grueling minutes, you were disdainful of how far you managed to climb on Vhagar’s back. A few feet below, you can see Aemond slowly ascending closer to your feet. Traveling up the creature's back was tedious - you wonder how he accomplished this daily to ride her. 

The silver-haired prince moves to the front of the steering position. He readjusts the ropes and restraints before looking behind at your sitting stance. You uncomfortably adjust your seating position, gripping the saddle. He gestures to you to move closer as you grasp his waists tightly. He anticipates waiting for you to say anything - you don't. Comfortably, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and your faces become centimeters closer. 

The look on Aemond's face is subtle yet gentle. He holds one of your hands and kisses your palm. Immediately you can feel the butterflies in your stomach flapping. You can see from afar that Aegon and Helaena had also climbed on their dragons and lifted off. Everything at one once feels out of perspective. The out-of-body experience you feel when Vhagar's wings start to flap. Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. The moment when the Vhagar leaves the ground, your heart beats so fast, you only focus on your heartbeat. 

Straight away, you were transported up into the skies. The harsh currents make you squint your eyes shut. It feels almost too intense. Even your ears feel suffocated, unable to hear anything else than the rushing breezes. You couldn't register where you were right away. Your vision slowly came back to you as you saw faint shapes of white. The clouds you often catch from below look majestic from where you flew. You were at a loss for words. The tales Aemond had described could never compare to the view you were seeing. The sun you could see thousands of miles away was more prominent and glowing.  

You can hear Aegon laugh nearby - you cannot look away from the view. In your far-right peripherals, you can see Helaena’s fleeting form. She is utterly ravishing. Not that you had ever seen her in any other way - her hair sways back and forth, making you short of breath. She can feel your stare and looks at you teasingly. It was as if she knew you were still adjusting to the high pressure of the sky and pushed Dreamfyre to dive below. 

The long-haired prince peers behind to quirk up an eyebrow. As if asking you, terrified yet? Of course, your blood was pumping the fastest it ever felt. Your neck was hot from the sweat and adrenaline you had. Everything happened so quickly. How could you not possibly be terrified? However, you know he was testing you. Aemond was used to the adrenaline. You were the one who had just gone through a fever dream. 

You were about to say something until Vhagar plunged at high speed. The immediate whiplash of water and wind makes you scream, tightening your grip on Aemond’s waist. You can feel your stomach drop. Your waist almost lifts itself from the saddle. You try to shriek for Aemond’s attention - it is no use. And almost immediately, everything comes to a stop. The clouds disappear from your peripherals while the green landscapes come into view. Without realizing Vhagar dips cooly down to the ocean, allowing one of her wings to skim through the waters. 

You were in awe and amazement. The entire ride up and out of the sky was worth the scare. Slowly your senses come back to you. The dizziness you felt was no longer there. And the unwanted tears from the high pressure were not dry. Not to mention, your hair was a mess. Your entire face was pale beside your rosy cheeks. And when the rest of the dragons come to view by a valley side of a beach, the two of you carefully descend from Vhagar's saddle.  

“That was amazing!” you gasp, realizing how out of breath you were. You shook Aemond's shoulders back and forth, still energetic after the after-flight. “The clouds were so beautiful, Aemond!”

“You looked so out of breath!” Your brother-in-law snickered out of breath, jumping off of Sunfrye with ease. Helaena does the same and dusts off the dirt from her pants. She looked short-winded but managed to keep her composure intact. However, out of everyone, Aemond was the most capable. He did not look tired - his clothes were windblown. 

“Do you understand why you are not fit to ride now?” You glance at the prince's slyness. You comprehend Aemond was being sarcastic, ridiculing you for your out-of-breath roller coaster ride of a lifetime. It proves that you were very much not accustomed to dragon riding and its strong currents of twists and turns. And though he is right, you were too prideful to submit. 

“Oh, of course, dear husband,” you mock back, slowly closing the gap between you two. A grin slowly creeps on Aemond's face. “But I would very much like to go again.”

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 4 . . .

This is the story I wrote for the kids I co-teach. Read pt 4 of Into The Vanquished Lands #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **Something horrible is about to happen to one of the group.** * * * * * 6. An Offer Accepted. ‘It’s against my better judgement but you’ve proven yourself worthy of my trust. Be careful with it.’ Draven handed the Medallion of Ka to Jenna as they strode out along the final path to the…

[detournementsmineurs]

"Octopus Buckle" by Karl Rothmüller in gilded silver, silver, opal, garnets and chalcedony (circa 1900), "Octopus and Butterfly Brooch" by Wilhelm Lucas von Cranach in gold, enamel, pearls, rubies, diamonds, amethysts and topaz (1900) and "Retrieving Treasure Ball from Dragon Palace" by Utagawa Kuniyoshi (circa 1820-50) presented in “A History of Jewellery: Bedazzled (part 6: Art Nouveau 1890-1914)” by Beatriz Chadour-Sampson - International Jewellery Historian and Author - for the V&A Academy online, march 2024.

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 目標‧₊˚ CURSED BLOOD TIES, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ hunting the host to rid the world of curses. wc, 1.2K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m backk. i mentioned that this may be a series so we’ll see how that goes. this is just a pilot. hopefully ya like this. reblog to support meeee and follow for more.

␥ tags. royalty AU, possible nsfw, possible angst, female anatomy, smoking, implied death, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

the chandelier glimmered over the heads of the council and the hunter in a myriad of various colors, casting crystalline reflections onto the inset ceiling and ornately papered walls. the shadows cast in the corners of the room flicker in sync with the candles above, claiming their part of the wall then rapidly retreating back into themselves, scampering in terror from the golden light and causing the room to pulsate rhythmically.

it all looks so viscerally alive, the hunter thought as he glanced around, lifting his embellished glass goblet of what looked to be the finest of wine. he’d lift the cup to his lips, feeling the oddly warm and thick liquid run down his throat, leaving in its wake a strange, acidic burning. the wine tastes metallic and tangy, and he runs his tongue delicately over his lips and sighing softly with content listening as the council spoke amongst themselves.

the hunter takes another sip of the piquant liquid but this time the burn is more severe but comforting. he gently places his glass down against the clothed table and his gaze meets his boss’s gaze—his eyes glimmer menacingly beneath the candlelight like shards of black glass, and he smiles softly. eyes closed.

“are you enjoying yourself, choso?” he asks, his tone honey-sweet, with a tinge of seriousness as he raises his glass in his ringed hand, motioning towards choso.

the hunter returns a smile, delicately clinking his glass to the boss’s, and quickly cast his gaze down onto the plushly carpeted floor. the boss hasn’t moved; choso could feel his stare burning into his skin as he awaits a simple peep from his lips.

“what do you want?” the hunter rasps, tugging at the black collar that connected to his suit jacket, folding it outward then running his hands over the crimson red tie that was almost the same color as the thick liquid that sat stiffly in his glass.

“you know what i want,” a smile spreads onto kenjaku’s lips. slowly, his eyes open again revealing those black shards that once again glimmered under the light above the table. “your job is to find the host and kill her. simple as that. it shouldn’t be hard for a skilled curse like yourself, hm? listen; you do this job and i’ll give you a bunch of cash to set you on your way.”

“i don’t care about money. money isn’t my issue here, nor is it my goal.” choso’s eyes narrowed into slits, his violet irises sparkling like a pair of amethysts. the dark rings under his eyes giving those purple orbs a natural glow to them. “where’s the plasma host?”

“so eager,” kenjaku crooned. “the girl resides in the palace under the emperor’s care. you leave tonight. i shouldn’t have to tell you how to do the rest of your job you’ve done this for the while now.”

“right.” choso leaned back in the chair, uncrossing his legs and spreading them a bit as he did and took the embellished glass with him. “i’ll make sure it hurts too.”

“for someone so distant and calm, you definitely have a sadistic streak.” kenjaku chuckled. “you’re maltalent. you’d rather see a young girl fall for your pleasure than for her to survive and live a happy life, hm? your daddy would be so proud of you. are you sure money isn’t your goal, hunter or are you trying to prove something?”

“what would i be trying to prove, father?”

a silence fell over the room. kenjaku smirked and sipped the coccineous drink. smacking his lips, the corners of his mouth twitched upward, forcing a smile. “i’ve went under many names during my lifetime and many hateful ones from you but i never would’ve thought that you’d call me that.”

“answer me.” choso spoke with barred teeth, lowering his brows. kenjaku scoffed. the candles blink collectively, and when they return, it is with less fervor than before—the room is ever so slightly darker, and the revelation is filling each and every person’s veins with an ever-rising sense of harsh seriousness.

suddenly, it’s become hotter also, as if the entire room were ablaze, and the witnesses felt as if they could melt any minute from the smolder of both the hunter and kenjaku’s gazes like a frail wax doll. choso could feel his body start to tingle a bit, a faint buzzing that starts at the bridge of his nose where a black mark—his blood mark rests upon, but soon washes over his entire being like a tsunami, consuming all his sober thoughts.

choso rose up from his seat with trembling hands fueled with anger clashing with his immense cursed energy, hoping to force an answer from kenjaku, but just then the man speaks.

“prove your worth.” kenjaku said with that same sly smile. choso could only narrow his eyes at the other as he stood there with his nails digging into the cloth on the table. “don’t you think you’ve done enough without getting any validation? you just live a constant life of misery and death—its almost pointless for you to live, correct?”

“you imply that my life means nothing unless i’m given orders? do i owe you something? my worth, my freedom? the only thing i owe you…the only thing you deserve is being sent back to jigoku where you belong and returning the torture you’ve forced me to endure back to you.” choso kept his teeth barred and his hands gripping onto the cloth. kenjaku could only laugh, sipping his drink once again.

“so hostile and filled with hate.” the man giggled. “i was only taunting you. playful banter, of course. but this is why you’re perfect for the job i’ve chosen for you. you’re so blinded by your personal motives, that you’ll bend to make sure your desires are fulfilled.”

“i told my brothers i’d side with you,” choso murmured. “the future you painted was more suited for us…but that’s all. but when my job is finished…i’ll kill you.”

“i can’t wait to see the day.” kenjaku hummed. the tension finally simmered down a bit and choso lowered himself slowly back into the seat. “listen to me, hunter. you’re gonna do your job and do it right. if the bitch isn’t dead in a weeks time, i’ll just do it myself and both you and your brothers will perish, got it?”

choso could only glare at kenjaku but he nodded. once again, the hunter rose from his seat and began to head for the double doors that were a few feet away from the long table they sat at, still holding his glass.

“oh and choso,” kenjaku called. “remember to play nice with your target—you don’t wanna scare her, do you?”

“i know what i’m doing.” choso’s deep voice echoed throughout the room as he took his leave.

the hunter’s black dress shoe heels clicked as he exited the dining area, his figure fading into the shadows of the next room over, the double doors slamming dramatically behind him. the wind blew gently through the spiky buns of the hunter’s raven black hair that glistened like leather against the moonlight and the deep mazarine sky. choso sauntered away from the temple, his fingers delicately wrapped around the base of the glass.

“under the emperor’s care, huh?”

shards of glass scattered onto the ground and blood painted the cobblestone walkway just in front of his feet, iron corrupted the air. the hunter glanced behind him, eyeing the shut doors that he recently exited and a deep sigh escaped him before he once again, disappeared into the darkness.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[tiredfox64]

Blessed with his favor

Prior notes: Let’s do this again folks. Let that criminal be thankful I’m not deciding their fate. Also that outfit where he got his titty out got me acting like a fool 😩🤌. (I’m sorry I raw dogged it again, I’ll fix it)

Pairing: Rain(MK11) x Worshipper! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, can we even say god complex if he’s a god?, praising (as a treat), blowjob, creampie, cockwarming (that’s his treat)

No one needs Rain to be their ally, but they don’t need him to be their enemy either. Lord Raiden surely doesn’t need Rain pestering him or risking harm to Earthrealm.

You’ve been a disciple of Raiden’s for quite a while. You helped out with Liu Kang and Kung Lao all the time. One of your roles was to be a messenger of sorts. And right now that will be your sole role for a while. because you will be giving the Prince of Edenia gifts. Luckily, you have some craft hands with a creative mind. So thinking and making a gift for him won’t be the hard part. It’s the delivery part that scares you. As much as he didn’t want to do this to you he found it might be the best course of action.

So you got to work. The first gift? A ring. A ring with an amethyst gem in the middle. Gained straight from a geode. Hopefully the prince will love it.

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Rain was already moody. Upset with the lack of worshippers, upset with the lack of allies, upset with Kitana for not freeing Edenia. The palace was tense as everyone would occasionally hear Rain grumble as he sat on his watery throne. Only one guard was brave enough to approach Rain as they had something important to tell him. They quickly informed him that he had a guest and they have something special for him. Immediately the grumbling stopped and his head slightly perked up.

“Is that so? Who is this person that has a gift for me?” He asked the poor guard.

“I believe they said they were someone close to the Protector of Earthrealm. They said they had a gift for you as a way of showing peace.” The guard just wanted to be done already.

Rain contemplated letting this person in. An Earthrealmer wanting to make peace? He almost didn’t want to entertain the idea. But the sound of a gift just for him did entice him to accept them in. He alerted the guard to let the person in quickly.

And there you were, strolling in with a small box in your hand. Your steps were careful, too afraid to move fast in front of the guards. The sight of Rain almost made you turn back around. Maybe cause he was a demigod. Maybe it was his muscles that scared you. Maybe it was his outfit that showed half his chest area. You didn’t wanna get caught staring so your eyes shifted everywhere but there.

You made your way to Rain. Just one look into his eyes and you were petrified to mess up. You went down on one knee before him and had your head lowered. You were looking down at the floor before speaking.

“I have a gift for you, your highness. An act of worship. I’ve made this gift with my own hands, just for you.” You swallowed hard when you finished talking.

“Well I never would have expected someone from Earthrealm to actually come and worship the prince. A wise choice, even from someone who seems close to Raiden.” His voice sounded like honey to you, almost tempting you to look up at him. “Open the box, earthrealmer. I want to see this gift.”

You did just that. You opened the box. At first it revealed what seemed to be a rock. Rain almost believed this was a joke that would end up getting you killed. You quickly flipped open the rock only to show it was a geode. The same geode you used to make the amethyst ring. There the ring was in the middle. If only you could have seen Rain’s face when you showed him the true gift. There was a sparkle in his eyes and he could feel his heart beat quicken a little. It was gorgeous.

“My my, what a lovely ring. And you said you made this yourself?” He asked as he took the ring out and placed it on his ring finger.

“Y-yes, I did. It’s a talent of mine. And I found the gem to be just right for you. Perfect for a prince.” You are saying the right words to him.

He just admired the ring and how it fitted him perfecting. The beautiful purple gem shined in the light and the gold band matched well with his other rings. No one has ever been so thoughtful, so creative with their offering to him. He had such a smug smirk on his face before looking down at you again.

“Excellent craftsmanship, earthrealmer. You have pleased me. I would have never expected that from someone like you.” He said it so condescendingly but you had to bite your tongue.

“Thank you, your highness. I’m grateful to please a man like you.” You said before looking up and seeing that smug smirk on his face growing larger.

You got back on your feet and handed Rain the geode case. You started to walk away before hearing Rain call out to you one more time.

“Oh and earthrealmer, I do wish for you return soon. I’d love to see what else you can do.” All you could do was nod before getting out of there like a bat out of hell.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You did well to make the prince happy. Rain was more than delighted to have a worshipper who used her own hands to create gifts for him. It’s what he felt he deserves as the Son of Argus. He was in love with the feelings and the gifts. You did your best to balance your life while also having the time to make Rain gifts to bring to him each week. Whenever a guard or servant came to him he anticipated hearing that you just arrived. If it wasn’t that he quickly grew disappointed before acting as if all was fine. More and more you gave, necklaces, more rings, a box to keep the jewelry in, beautiful stones, and geodes you would find and crack open. Each time his heart would race and his desire grew almost unbearable. Even just the sight of you made him grow hard and he had to control himself.

You were already sensing that he was getting a bit too attached with you. He was getting touchy as well. His fingers would lightly graze your hand and wrist when he took the gifts from you. He would tilt your head up to look at him as he spoke to you. Sometimes he would even place his hand at the top of your head, almost petting you at times. Each time you froze up.

Yet Lord Raiden kept sending you over and you kept making those gifts. With how happy you were making Rain there was less to worry about. Even Kitana was saying she hadn’t had any instances with Rain causing problems in Outworld. You had a lot on your shoulders and you couldn’t mess things up. You will just be careful from now on. Except Rain had different ideas.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

When you arrived back you thought you would be going straight to the throne room. But a guard guided you somewhere else. You didn’t really know where you were going but you did see a lot of guards standing near one door. They opened the door and before you could comprehend what the room was you were pushed in, hearing the door slam shut behind you. Well that was just rude.

“My favorite worshipper. I see you have another gift for me.” You heard the playfulness in his voice.

You recovered a little and started glancing around the room. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the place but the furniture inside told you all. You’re in Rain’s bedroom.

Why am I here? Why are we not in his throne room? Why is HE not in his throne room? Is he getting too comfortable with me? He’s getting too comfortable with me.

You were lost in your own thoughts you didn’t realize you were standing awkwardly in front of him. You dropped down on one knee immediately and held out the gift for him. Just like you usually do. Just like how this should go.

“Yes I do. I always have something just for you.”

“Of course you do. But I do feel bad that you are always on one knee,” There was sarcasm in his words, “It must be hard to stay steady like that. Here, let me help.”

Before you could protest or ask what he meant by that, Rain slightly kicked in front of him which cause a tiny wave to form. The wave pushed your ankle which almost made you fall on your face. That’d be embarrassing. You luckily balanced yourself without dropping the gift. But now you’re fully kneeling in front of him. Kneeling like you truly worshipped him and prayed to him. Before you could even ask him what is the meaning of this, Rain got very close to you. Too close for comfort. He took the gift from your hands and placed it somewhere else, not even looking at it. His hand lifted your chin up and held your face in place so you were forced to look at him. That look in Rain’s eyes didn’t sit right with you. He looked…hungry…desperate for something.

“I have been loving every single one of your gifts so far, earthrealmer. You do better than anyone in Edenia could ever do. There is one thing, however, that I would love to receive from you. You’ve been very obedient so I don’t think this will be an issue.” His tone slowly because more lustful.

You can’t act ignorant anymore. You knew what Rain wanted. The position tells you all. Raiden didn’t have any plan for you to escape this. You almost didn’t want to escape this. This probably would do good for everyone involved. And who else could say they sucked a god’s dick. Well, demigod.

“I guess today you will receive a different kind of worship. Hopefully this kind will make you just as happy as my gifts did.” You said in a low voice as you watched Rain’s eyes widen in delight.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The sight of you on your knees for Rain will be something he treasures. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as you struggled to take it all in. His hand had a grip on your hair as he continued using your mouth. Even when you tried to place your hands on his thighs to prevent him from going too deep that did little to stop him. Though it did excite him more knowing you were struggling to take him in. Little bits of drool started slipping out as your tongue kept swirling around his tip. You have no idea how long this could last so you better give it your all.

Rain could not hold back from groaning as he lightly thrusted into your mouth. The more he did it the closer it got to the back of your throat. When you felt the tip hit the back of your throat you gagged a little before recovering. The feeling was so new to you. You were choking on it yet it felt so thrilling. Your jaw couldn’t handle this.

“Look up at me, worshipper. Look up to your god.” Rain commanded you.

And you obeyed that command. With teary eyes you looked up at him as he used you for his pleasure. And because you obeyed he truly felt like he owned you. You were his worshipper, loyal to him. The thought alone and seeing those pretty eyes sent him over the edge.

Rain’s head went back as thrusted into your mouth one more time. The tears that formed in your eyes slipped down your cheeks as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth. His cum slipped down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all. You never knew when it would end. When it did he pulled out of your mouth to allow you to breathe. He could see how your drool covered his cock, even a string of saliva that still was connected between it and your mouth. After catching your breath you felt his hand grab your face, forcing your mouth to stay open. He looked into your mouth as if he were observing it.

“You swallowed it all, what a good worshipper.” Rain praised you surprisingly before letting you go.

You thought that would be the end of it. You pleased him, that should be all. Oh please, this is Rain we are talking about, it’s never enough for the Son of Argus. That’s why he grabbed you again and dragged you to sit on his lap. You let out a little ‘huh’ before he started speaking again.

“Don’t tell me your can’t handle anymore. There is still much to do.” He whispered as he forced your pants and underwear off.

You let out a little yelp as you tried to collect your clothes again, worried that he actually ripped them. His arm was wrapped tight around your waist as his other hand went to take your shirt off. He must do this with a lot of women cause that was too quick. Your mind couldn’t comprehend anything. Rain seemed desperate to have you. And he was desperate to look at you as he fucked you.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, are you sure you wan-“ You got cut off when you felt his cock being pushed into your pussy, causing you to let out a little moan.

Rain gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before thrusting into you. Those few seconds were not enough as it still felt like he would split you in half. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to adapt to it all. Meanwhile Rain was more than pleasured. Feeling your pussy squeeze around his cock and feeling your nails dig into his shoulders drove him crazy. He started leaving kisses on your neck that soon turned to sucking. It made you shiver as you finally adjusted to his size.

You gave up on keeping quiet. The guards on the other side of the door already knew this would happen. Your heavy breathing and moans echoed in the room with the sound of skin slapping together accompanying it. All your fears and worries slipped away from you and all you could focus on was the pleasure. You payed no mind to Rain even as he started to lightly bite down on your shoulder. He was purposely trying to mark you. Hickeys on your neck and bite marks on your shoulder. The pain from it only intensified the pleasure.

“Doesn’t it feel good to worship me. Look at what I can provide you. All this…just for you.” He whispered in your ear as he shoved his cock deeper into you.

You’re seeing stars at this point. So loopy and cock drunk you just hummed in agreement. You felt that pressure building up inside you that told you were about to cum soon. Rain was just as close. So he got rough, slamming into your sweet spot over and over that it sent both of you over the edge.

You were surprised to feel Rain’s hand behind your head, pushing it down until you felt his lips against yours. His kisses were just as rough as everything else. You were thankful for it actually since it muffled all the moans that were coming from you. Your pussy milked his cock as he filled you up with his cum. You felt so full and warm inside.

You had to catch your breath again after that experience. Rain kept you on his lap and was letting you cockwarm him. It’s amazing that he was still hard after cumming twice. He actually liked holding you and enjoyed the feeling of your warm pussy surround his cock.

“That was quite wonderful, my worshipper. I must thank you again for doing this. I just know you loved it too.” He’s so arrogant but he was so right.

“By the elder gods…I can’t remember a man ever making me feel that way.” Don’t stroke his ego too hard he might explode again.

Rain chuckled at your words, his ego being boosted even more. Before he could say anything else to you there was a moment of clarity. How long have you been here? Oh dear…

You immediately got off of Rain even though your legs couldn’t fully support you. You had to lean on a nearby wall to help support you as you threw your clothes on. You felt his cum dripping down your leg which made you shiver with excitement. No time to think about that, just throw your clothes on!

“Aww, do you really have to go? I’ve been enjoying your company and we can still have more fun.” Rain said playfully as he watched you struggle to put your clothes on.

“Sorry, prince. I have to return to Earthrealm.” You excused yourself as you managed to put your clothes back on. You reached for the door handle before Rain said one more thing to you.

“I understand, my worshipper. But do remember to visit me soon again. I’d be devastated if my adorable, loyal worshipper never returned to me. If you don’t, I’ll get you myself. But that would mean a possible punishment.” Rain smirked at you, knowing he could mess with you all he wants. And of course you nodded frantically, knowing you were gonna return anyways.

And so you left his bedroom, stumbling out like you were drunk. The guards avoided you and you avoided them. Some did watch you as you leaned against the walls occasionally to make sure you wouldn’t fall. You better start thinking of an excuse as to why you were late coming back. However Lord Raiden might already understand why that is, the evidence is all over your neck and shoulders. What a day you had.

After notes: Y’ALL! I can’t believe people actually liked my work. That’s actually insane to me, thank you all. I would have popped this one out earlier but uh…it was a Sunday. I already messed up by posting on Good Friday I won’t post stuff like this on Easter Sunday. But please I hope y’all like this one I think MK11 Rain needs hella love (even if he is a little arrogant and dare I say moody). If things go well I might do more characters because my heart is open to others. And if you wanna know my AO3 account where I will probably post this over on there as well it’s GalacticFox_64. Adiós!

[tiaramania]

TIARA ALERT: Crown Princess Mette Marit of Norway wore Queen Sonja's Amethyst Necklace Tiara for the banquet during the state visit from Tanzania at the Royal Palace in Oslo, Norway on 13 February 2024.

[playername-player-of-games]

@chrisrin‘s gemcyt au !! “Pearl” is actually Joel here :3

//

Well. Running was stupid.

The Human Zoo is absolutely not set up the same way as the palace- all confusing hallways and rooms that have doors at both ends, usually nice for escaping but now annoying as he’s been cornered twice now, only escaped because he’s willing to poof other gems- he’s feisty, for a pearl. At least for today. He knows he’s going to be shattered for this, he may as well go down fighting.

Left, left, left, he’s going in circles. Rubies shout behind him, five voices becoming one when they fuse. They’re faster now, but he’s got a head start, and he goes right this time, immediately crashing into a quartz on the turn-

He looks up, eyes going wide-

“Etho! Etho- poof me!”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

//

Pearl isn’t usually aware of the happenings outside of his gem when he’s recharging. It’s dark when he poofs, he’s whisked away somewhere quiet. On a good day it takes him fifteen minutes to Reform, but today he stays quiet, stays put, in Etho’s pocket.

He catches bits of conversation- shouting, alarms, running. Etho gives vague answers to any questioning, and soon enough the rubies move on. Pearl stays put, though, for hours, until gentle hands put him back in open air- until he hears the gentle tap of his gem being set down.

“It’s safe to come out now,” Etho says.

Pearl reforms, swift and effortless, on the floor of a closet full of weapons. He looks up at Etho and confesses, “I’m going to be shattered.”

Etho’s eye widens- he’s not very talkative, for an amethyst, but he talks to Pearl sometimes- “why’s that? What did you do?”

Pearl buries his face in his hands- it’s one thing to commit treason and an entirely other thing to admit to treason. Etho helped him, though- lied for him, took him somewhere safe. He owes him, he thinks.

“I-” it’s terrifying to admit. He does not move his hands, does not speak louder than a whisper “-I fused with Pink Diamond.”

Stars- he’s really going to be shattered for this.

“Ah.”

“I’m going to be shattered,” Pearl says again, with rising terror, “they’re- they’re going to find me, and they’re going to shatter me, and they’re going to shatter you too, an-”

Not just shattered, he’s going to be space dust! If he’s lucky maybe he’ll become a star in about seven trillion years-

“Woah, woah, hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Etho interrupts. He guides Pearl’s hands away from his face and holds them tight, mismatched eyes calm, somehow, despite everything, “you’re going to be okay.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ll be okay too.”

“How?”

“I know a guy. I’ll get us out of here,” Etho shrugs. Before Pearl can lose his mind over that particular string of words, Etho questions, “how’d you end up fusing with a diamond?”

Pearl freezes. This is really just- not a conversation he wants to have. Etho rubs his thumbs across the back of his hands, grounding- it’s nice.

“We were in the garden,” Pearl confesses, supposing that the floor of a closet isn’t the worst place to confess to being a criminal, “and she ah- she was excited about the humans, and her smile was-”

He swallows, ducking his head.

“-she was dazzling,” he admits, a little breathless, “she was- so excited, and it was beautiful, and they were playing with these little things called otters and one did a flip, and she- she gasped and grabbed my arm and it just- it just kind of-”

He’d fallen out of the fusion only moments after they’d formed. His Diamond had been staring at him, her mouth agape in pure shock. The other guards had been horrified. Every instinct then told him to run, so he did, and he’d been chased, and now-

He wants to hide again, but alas Etho is still holding his hands. He looks up- Etho’s mismatched eyes hold no judgement. He’s smiling.

Pearl scowls. “What?”

“Congrats,” Etho says, calm as a glittering starscape, “fusion’s a special thing.”

Pearl sputters, “It’s treason!”

“That too,” Etho agrees. He squeezes Pearl’s hands and turns serious, “I can get us out of here, but you’ll have to be poofed, and you can’t reform until I say so.”

Oh stars- he’s- he might not be shattered.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Promise.”

“Etho, I owe you my life,” Pearl retorts, “anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I promise. I swear it. I don’t want to be shattered.”

Etho nods, and pulls Pearl to his feet. He’s shaking, but only a little, and Etho steadies him with a hand at his back.

“Wh-where are we going?” he asks.

Etho smiles, “you’ll see.”

Pearl vanishes into dark and quiet once again.