#BORN OF BLOOD AND WINTER. ˛ au.

[belayadeath-goner]

A. TARGARYEN: I GOTTA BE CAREFUL, GOTTA WATCH WHAT I SAY. @denouemente

it's the lot of being a second son, always has been. always the ones forgotten, cast aside in favour of the first born, no matter schooling or actual capabilities. the prince has voiced how strenuous the relationship with his brother, the king, had always been; and albeit still not much, the woman sees enough for herself as is.

evening long since passed and engulfed by the darkness of night. he's resting against the mantel of the fireplace, eye glaring into the crackling flames in the hearth whilst bianca herself was seated in an arm chair not too far off, remains of a half - drunk cup of wine swirling in her hand. “  history oft favours the unworthy.  ” a callous comment, though dared in the privacy of aemond's company in the lone room. the warrior lifted a boot, and let it drop to rest against the edge of the sitting room table before her, resting elbow against her knee. “  while second sons are always judged more harshly, having to claw for whatever claim they may have.  ” you're no different, she thought, but words remained at the back of her throat. “  though -- from what i've gathered in my short stay, is that you're more than capable of playing the game.  ”

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[captain-joongz]

On the wind of morning; Dragonheart ch.1

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Chapter summary: The capital is as unwelcoming as ever, father as disappointed as one can be and the new unit dynamics are challenging, but you finally meet your dragon.

Word count: 22.1k

Warnings: some bad family dynamics, toxic father shenanigans, some displays of slavery, talks of slavery, there's a pov switch near the end so watch out for that, otherwise not much

Series masterlist | Next part | Lore | Dictionary

A/N: here comes the first chapter!! i hope it meets the expectations and you enjoy yourself while reading! don't be shy, tell me what you think and how you like it! <3 PS: the words that are underlined are linked to chapter notes with explanations and a dictionary ;) they're a little messy atm but i'm trying to find a way to make it easier

I disliked the royal castle. It was a dark hulking mass of stone that blocked out all the sunlight and drained all warmth from everything and everyone inside. It casted a massive shadow over its surroundings, and you were never free of the feelings of oppressiveness as soon as you were in its vicinity.

The moment you stepped in, you shivered and with every passing second you’d be colder and bitterer, sitting in a dark hallway feeling your fingers slowly freeze while the silence crushed you from all sides. The atmosphere was always sombre and tinged with the sour note of fear, you could see it in the way no one dared to speak, no one felt like smiling and all the servants were walking briskly with their heads down.

I disliked the castle, and I hated staying in it.

While of course, it was sitting on a big black rock by one of the rockiest and coldest shores in the empire, and the weather often reflected that with harsh winds and heavy rains; but the worst were the occupants, who managed to be colder and more inhospitable than the heavens themselves. They were the ones who made the structure so unwelcoming, who made you feel uncomfortable and who enjoyed belittling others until no one laughed unless it was at someone else’s expense. It was a hard world of ruthlessness and survival, but it was us who made all the beasts and the prey.

I disliked the castle, but I hated the people within even more.

You could almost taste all the blood and suffering soaked into these thick stone walls, the centuries of atrocities that took place inside looming over you and constricting your lungs, making you fight for every breath of stale joyless air.

But with my father being needed here so often, I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I wanted that. And now finally earning my acceptance between the elite ranks, I would be spending even more time here, would have to come to terms with moving onto the castle grounds, into the secluded barracks away in the farther corner of the royal training grounds.

I had grown up far away from the capital city. When I was born, it was still at the old house in the north, where there were just as many plains and meadows as there were mountains, and the summers were pleasant and warm and winters freezing and cruel.

Those were our lands and our estate, gifted to my great great-grandfather for his achievements in battles against the northern invasion, as he was considered a well respected general close to the emperor – and that’s where our family legacy began. We have always been a military family, but since then the Kang generals have always stayed as close to the royal family as possible, climbing the ranks and sticking their claws in deep.

And as fief lords, our patriarchs have never been particularly benevolent either, which might be a reason for why they got along with the nobles so well. The cruelty and coldness ran in their veins, just like all the powerful men that shared between each other the same arrogance and feelings of superiority, supporting each other in their worldviews and their own dominance.

It all was very embarrassing to witness – the pride of old men strutting around like peacocks and preening under each other’s compliments of their evildoing.

And my father was one of them.

He was one of the three generals closest to the throne, one of the right-hand men and a monster, much like the man with the crown himself.  I scoffed at the image of him in my head – the pompous ass that thought he was infallible and carried himself like he was god, ruled his fief and his family with a cruel unforgiving hand and expected infallible loyalty and subservience of his children.

All of the men that were currently sitting in the room next to me, holding a meeting and discussing war, they were all cut from the same cloth. Power hungry, back-stabbing. And they wouldn’t hesitate to devour each other alive if the opportunity rose no matter how much they pretended to be allies.

Footsteps down the hall drew my attention and I looked up from my miserable little corner by the massive dark double door to see a small group of knights walk in. They crossed the hall in several quick strides and soon were knocking on the door by my left, giving me the opportunity to observe them for a moment.

They were the kingsguard, the white tiger insignia embroidered on their black and white uniforms giving their position away. It wasn’t that unusual seeing big clumps of the soldiers running around the castle, as the emperor was extremely paranoid about his safety, but these men seemed to be escorting someone else.

In the middle of the group there stood a beautiful tall man, elegant and lean with long silvery white hair. He didn’t even have to turn towards me for me to know he was a dragon, but when he did and I saw those cold steely eyes with vertical slit pupils, centuries of wisdom and pain reflecting through them, I knew for sure he was one of the sovereign’s own.

I nodded at him solemnly in sympathy, offering him at least a little decency, but the dragon just regarded me expressionlessly before turning forward again and waiting for the order to step in. I turned back to lean into my chair to give him peace, and only listened to the creak and shuffle of the opening door and the thunder of iron clad feet. Then the door slammed shut again and I was once more left alone in the hall.

This time it didn’t take long though, only a few minutes later the door opened once more, and this time stayed opened. With a long deep breath, I stood up and made my way in. I saw other young hopefuls slowly trickle in, filling in the counsel room and finding their way to their benefactor’s sides.

While the counsel is in a meeting, no one else is allowed inside, but after they are dismissed, usually there is some socialising and many of these men take the opportunity to flaunt their children or disciples. It’s all very boring and humiliating for the younglings involved, being paraded like a piece of meat or a trained monkey, but it was all to give these men face – the only thing they really cared about. Especially when it came to their children.

“Y/N, stop with the dilly-dallying!” a thunderous voice sounded from my right. It was the kind that demanded respect and attention, and the man knew very well how to use his aura to intimidate and break people into obedience. After all, confidence was half of the trick, I thought bitterly.

Taking a second to right my uniform, I steeled myself and turned, coming face to face with my father. His face was in that grimace that I’ve already come to know meant he was very close to getting angry because he thought my behaviour to be humiliating to him. I fought the scoff off of my face and walked over with confident strides.

My brother was already standing by our father’s side, face an unreadable mask and back as straight as a rod, only his eyes shooting subtle warnings my way. Great, that meant that the general was already in a bad mood from the meeting, and I was bound to lose no matter what I did.

As soon as I made it over to them, a hand clasped onto my shoulder in an iron grip and wrangled me to father’s side, as his face melted into an aggressively polite grimace, his smile turning almost shark-like.

“Gentlemen, I believe you haven’t been introduced to my daughter officially yet,” he started towards three men of similar age as my father, “she has just entered the Academy.” I sighed internally at the way their smiles turned sharp, sensing the weak spot in my father’s impeccable armour.

You see, I was somewhat of a disappointment to him. Well, I’ve been for a really long time, but back then it was a private affair. Now he had to face the ridicule in public, as I was a little bit of a late bloomer.

“Oh?” one of the men perked up, mean smile playing on his lips as he looked me over with condescension, “Congratulations, General Kang. What unit is she with?” Sensing the game the man was playing, I felt my father’s grip tighten until it was painful, constricting the movement of my wrist.

I winced, hoping I was able to keep the hurt expression off of my face, but nobody was really watching me anyway. Everyone was focused on the general, waiting with bated breath for his answer. The sounds of chatter from the room around us flowed freely around the tense atmosphere of our little corner, making the silence sound even louder.

Then he turned to me, stormy dark eyes signalling me that this was my battle to win. I forced my face into a similar polite smile, feeling kind of rusty at pandering to men I didn’t care about and hoping people couldn’t see how much I despised being here.

“I am with the Qinglong unit,” the answer finally fell out of my lips, my voice slightly weak and scratchy after sitting in silence for such a long time and I cleared my throat, embarrassed. The several sets of eyes jumped to me for a second, before redirecting to my father again.

“Ah, the dragon riders,” a different man stated, and I couldn’t tell from his voice whether he was impressed or not, which very obviously ruffled my father’s feathers. This was one of the few things he could boast about when it came to me, he’ll be damned if others didn’t recognise that.

“Yes, she will be attending a banquet very soon,” he supplied quickly, grip still strong on my arm and keeping me in place when I started nervously fidgeting. I looked to my brother, but he stood there without a single care for the conversation, eyes trained somewhere else in the room. Before I could follow his gaze, I was pulled back.

“Well, that is incredible,” the first man spoke again, the smirk still plastered on his face, “You must be so proud, you’ll surely award your daughter well with her 22nd birthday coming this year.” There were some snickers around and I knew we were in for something. This here was the killing point.

As many young people in this empire, I entered the military with my 16th birthday, which was the earliest one could start training at a base. While for me it was inevitable with the nature of our family, many other people chose to join just for the basic reason of needing food and shelter and soldiering was one of the easiest and surest ways to earn a stable keep for yourself and your family, so the input of fresh blood into the system was never-ending. The empire fought many wars and never had enough of willing knights, so entering the military was also very enthusiastically encouraged, leaving behind generations of mourning parents and social problems.

And yes, there were many opportunities for a knight to rise in ranks without ever stepping foot off of their mother base, they could climb quite high between the regional officials. But only a few dozens ever made it to the true top – and the only way there was through the Academy, situated in the capital and each year accepting only a handful of lucky knights.

There were several elite units, amongst which were the kingsguard and dragon riders, or the shadows as they were known – spies. Those who made it into this room were only the ones that went through there.

And the earliest age you could enlist into the Academy was 22. My brother was 27, therefore he’s been training there for 5 years now, which gained him quite the recognition in these circles (enough to allow him to listen in to these council meetings to learn). He of course made in on the first try, which was enough to not absolutely embarrass our father. Something, I wasn’t able to achieve.

The Qinglong unit, or as it was colloquially known as the horns, was one of the more elite and exclusive ones, harder to enter and harder to stay, just like shadows were, but that wasn’t something our father was interested in hearing.

And I failed in enlisting. Twice. I was now slightly over 24 years old, still young and still fully capable of making a name for myself, but not good enough to make my father proud to be associated with me.

As the highest standing general and one of the closest men to the emperor himself, he couldn’t afford to have children that didn’t succeed in everything on their first try. And of course, once the other elites caught the wind of this, it became a constant point of mockery for him. The only flaw in this man’s otherwise perfect life.

Which is why he was currently shooting daggers in my directions, the hateful stare burning into the side of my face as the question of my age was brought up. Once again, he made it clear that this was my mess to clean up, so I took a deep breath and turned back to the three men.

“Well… I uh- I have actually been training at the mother base for two additional years,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore my father’s embarrassed angry face. It was the nicest way to say that I wasn’t accepted two years in a row, but it still stung his pride, especially when the others started smirking.

One of them soon after launched into a story of how his daughter was actually accepted while she was still 20 years old, because they just had to make an exception for her, which then prompted all the others to share their own stories of success and talent coming from their protégées. It was absolutely disgusting, and I felt my father fuming next to me the whole time, in my mind begging the men to stop as I will have to face the consequences of his anger once home.

The jealousy and envy ran so thick that even the slightest sight of imperfection was shamelessly mocked and inspected over and over again, as everyone latched on the one thing they could feel better at than a general that climbed far higher than they could ever hope for. That’s why my father’s embarrassed anger burned even more – I knew he blamed me for this behaviour, since if I hadn’t failed, he wouldn’t have to face these things – he’d stay at the top, untouchable.

I silently swallowed, no longer daring to speak, knowing it would make the aftermath of my official introduction into high society less heavy.

The rest of the afternoon was painful and dragged on as I was forced to stay by my father’s side and listen to the mindless chatter and the occasional bragging about my brother. The general ignored me after the initial conversation and tried his best to pretend I wasn’t there, immediately derailing any enquiries that were raised about me and changing the topic before anyone could find the opportunity to make him admit my shortcomings again.

It didn’t particularly hurt, and it wasn’t especially punishing; I was used to such reception from the man, but it was painfully awkward and I wasn’t allowed to leave.

Instead I focused on catching glimpses of the silver haired dragon and the man whose side he similarly wasn’t allowed to leave. In contrast to his companion, he was clad all in gold, his robes heavily embroidered with leaves and other floral motifs, hands clasped elegantly in front of his stomach as he conversed with the crowd that was formed around him. His hair burned with a golden glow, but that might have been partly due to the crown sitting high on his head, adorned with blood red rubies. He was young, just two or three years older than my brother, freshly appointed but just as cruel (if not more) as his recently deceased father. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the cold glint in his eyes, the arrogance written into his every gesture and the permanent slip of a smirk.

Just from seeing him I knew he wasn’t a person worth knowing. How lovely that he was the one that sat on our throne.

The dragon by his side looked on with a practiced vacant glaze over his eyes, corners of his mouth weighted down by shadows only he knew of and carried in his heart and soul. My eyes slipped to his neck where a tattoo sat. It was in a spot that would always be visible, no matter how hard you tried, it was too high up to cover by clothing comfortably, forever showcasing who you were. A branding, a mark of slavery – a black chain wrapped around the neck. Every dragon bore it, some were even born with it. It was what bound them to the royal family and enforced their loyalty, what made them nothing more than unwilling puppets.

The man shifted and I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting him to see me looking at his mark. It was incredibly sensitive for dragons, and it brought them great shame when people ogled it, knowing this was what took away their freedom and bound them unconditionally to an uncaring master.

My heart bled for him, and it brought feelings of uneasiness about my own banquet that was about to take place in a few days. There I would choose my own dragon to bond with and start my formal training, but the queasiness about putting similar shackles on another being never quite ceased to bother me, no matter how much I knew my heart. I could treat the dragon as nice as possible; it wouldn’t erase the fact that formally we were a master and a slave.

Snippets of memories of my childhood resurfaced to my mind – a brown-haired man with warm eyes and a blinding smile, little slips of magic that endlessly fascinated me and all the lessons I’d learnt with him. The first dragon I ever knew. The kindest teacher I ever knew. The moments of warmth, love and laughter in the meadows and the forests up in the north.

A hand clasping my shoulder jolted me from my daydreaming and I flinched, a gasp leaving my mouth as I turned to the source of my sudden panic – coming face to face with my brother.

“Come, sister,” he said with voice neutral and a stone mask, the perfect picture of a promising young captain, “We’ve begun moving to the dining hall for dinner. You’re not paying attention again.”

I couldn’t even find it in me to be irritated by his slight jab, so I simply tightly pursed my lips shut and gave him a curt nod. He wrestled me into position so that he was leading me on his arm, trying to prevent any more delays and potentially adding to the long list of reasons why our father’s day was going as badly as it was. Bonus points for flashing our strong camaraderie to the lords.

“Don’t push him anymore, today’s been hard for him,” the young knight whispered lightly as we joined others slowly moving through the castle corridors. That had me ruffled a little, but I swallowed any remarks and nodded. Some days you truly did need to choose your battles and today was such day. And deep down I knew my brother was trying to look out for me in his own way, but that didn’t make it sting any less whenever he chided me in favour of our father.

“Yes, brother,” came my faux demure reply before I sealed my lips shut once more. That earned me a side-eye from the dark-haired man, who knew I was the furthest one could be from a quiet obedient lady, but chose not to call me out on the obvious piss-taking. He only sighed, shoulders sagging lightly, no doubt grateful I at least agreed with him so readily.

There’s been some dramatic scenes in my past as I reached my “rebellious phase” as father put it, but quickly that fire died within me when I realised it made everything only worse. As I grew, I chose silence as the survival method – causing scenes, screaming matches and throwing tantrums only served to humiliate us both; and perhaps I did have a little piece of my father in me – I also cared about my face.

Once I entered the base, it reflected on me badly amongst peers and instructors, giving me the reputation of a spoiled little brat. No matter the emotional turmoil I had been going through at that time, I knew it was time for a change of tactic – I needed respect to survive in the military and I would get it. Not for my father, but for myself.

Upon entering the room, I looked up and immediately found the eyes of the man himself trained on me, some new vague warning reflecting in them trying to keep me quiet and not causing any problems.

I sighed and resigned myself for the worst evening in recent history.

The reflection in my mirror stared back at me as I tried to push my clothes around to look as presentable as they could, the uniform still a little foreign to me. It was black silk cheollik with silver embroidery and it was tied at the side into an elegant bow. As tradition dictated, my father had given me a gift for the successful entry into Academy and it now adorned my waist – a deep red intricately woven string with a prosperity knot and grey jade pearls at the end – they jingled lightly at every nervous shift of my body.

This was the ceremonial uniform, as I still haven’t gotten my unit’s specific one – not until I bonded with a dragon – and it was brand new, it still smelt unworn and fit strangely over me, still adapting to my physique.

I would keep this one, but wear it rarely – usually there weren’t many instances when people wouldn’t take the chance to flaunt their unit, especially if they were at the top of the food chain, but I liked it. It was simple and elegant, and while the Qinglong also wore a similar one, it wasn’t embroidered and had azure details, and I found it a little too eye-catching.

Giving myself another look, I ended up sighing deeply, hands smoothing over the cold silk for the thousandth time in a last attempt to make it look a little more natural, thoughts finding their way towards the image of my mother. My sweet mother, who if she was here would tell me everything would be alright, that it looked perfect and I would do well. I imagined the feel of her gentle hands in my hair and on my shoulders, letting the memories of her soft voice soothe me.

The train of thought pierced my heart with pain that always manifested itself when I fell down this rabbit hole, my eyes naturally sliding towards the table which held all of her kind-hearted words in the form of letters she’s send over the years I haven’t seen her. But as always, everything I ever felt left a little aftertaste of rage towards my father, so I quickly abandoned this line of thought as well. Syphoning all the emotions out of me, I turned back into my numbed self that always surfaced around the family home.

Picking up the ceremonial dagger I finally set out, swiftly moving through the house in hopes of not bumping into the man himself. What rotten luck I had, as always.

The moment I stepped foot into the inner yard, there he was, sitting on the terrace by his study, sipping tea and watching me with his critical eyes. I could feel them sliding over me, making sure everything was in place. I said nothing, steadily returning his gaze while I wordlessly worked on the dagger strap, fashioning it under the red string.

“Remember what I told you last week, Y/N,” the general spoke, his face impassive even though there was fire underneath it all, and I could feel it all too well, “You are to make good impressions. I expect you to excel in this unit. Your brother is already being considered for corporal, do not stain this for him. Your unit has higher ranks too. One of them better be of my blood.”

I kept my mouth shut, just bowing to him in lieu of answer, but I was sure he could see the cocktail of anger and resentment brewing in my eyes. Choosing not to address that, he waved me off as if I was waiting for his permission to leave. Without a second glance I bowed again and promptly walked out the main gate.

If tonight went well, this was potentially one of the last times I walked out this specific house – our residence while we stayed in the capital city of Wuyun, close to the castle and royal grounds with the Academy in tow. If tonight went well, soon I’d find myself in the barracks, and I dreaded that day.

Unfortunately, family legacy tended to follow us all, no matter where we went and what we did. Children often went in their parents’ footsteps, making the Academy the breeding ground of resentment and generation long slights and fights. And there was a lot accumulated against the Kangs.

Back when my brother first joined, before he turned into the man he is today – while he still talked to me, he told me how disliked he was for the simple association. No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape his father’s shadow. I was next.

I would be able to walk over the distance from our house towards the main entrance of the castle blind-folded, and it passed quicker than I was ready for, suddenly finding myself standing at the foot of the entrance hall. Just at the end was the entryway towards the throne room, where the emperor accepted hearings, and I made sure to avoid it at the off chance that the man was present there currently.

It took me little time to arrive at the Eastern Grand Hall, but I found that most have already gathered there. It was a flurry of black and blue robes with the occasional splash of colour from other present lords, the hum of chatter and clinking of cutlery on metal plates that were typically used for military events, as if we were a bunch of animals that couldn’t be trusted with porcelain. I couldn’t spot anyone else wearing the plain Academy robes and I had no idea how many were accepted this year, so I slowly inserted myself into the frenzy hoping to blend in.

Turns out, it’s hard to do that when everyone either knows you’re the newbie or even realises which family you belong to, and I was getting a lot of looks as I leisurely walked along the table laid out with foods and drinks pretending not to notice. Some were mocking, some were apprehensive, and some were calculative, either way I had no interest in socialising.

It felt like ages have passed while I quietly ate by the end of the main table, gaze trained on a painting on the opposite wall, high above everybody’s head, but it wasn’t even time to officially begin the banquet yet. I was already feeling tired by all this, hoping this would be over with quickly so I could leave.

“I see that you’re getting some attention as well,” a cheery voice from my left shook me out of my reverie as I traced the golden lines of the knight portraiture for the thousandth time, and I turned somewhat dramatically, eyes open wide.

A woman stood there, it was hard to gauge her age, but she wore the same black and silver uniform, signalling she was also a first-year. Her pretty face was split by a friendly smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and her chestnut brown hair was shoved into a messy bun, clearly without a care for propriety. Her joy was quite disarming and before I even realised what I was doing, I was shaking her outstretched hand, still in shock. Her grip was strong, hands sure and decisive.

“Im Hwa-young, nice to meet you,” she said confidently, and I gaped at her slightly. Im was a disgraced surname, and no one who still had the curse of bearing it said it out loud anymore for fear of being recognised as a part of the Im clan after its fall and near annihilation. Whispers about treason and God’s punishment still followed those who survived, and many of the family disappeared from the public, hoping to escape the burden.

“I know, in the flesh,” Hwa-young continued with good spirits, obviously used to people’s reactions, “he was my uncle, before you ask.” I saw a flash of annoyance in her, something maybe like disappointment crossing her face as she began to withdraw her hand. In a split-second decision I grabbed it again, just as hard as she did before.

“Kang Y/N,” I gave her my name, making sure to look into her eyes, “and I wasn’t about to ask.” Hwa-young beamed at me, relief seeping into her as she sidled over to me almost as if we’ve known each other for years.

“Good to know I won’t be suffering here alone,” she remarked with a conspiratorial lilt, “I was afraid I’d be the only outcast in this unit.” I scoffed at her words, bringing a biscuit to my lips to mask my amusement from the others who were watching us with rapt interest.

“I never disappoint when it comes to disappointment,” there was something bitter creeping into my voice, tainting the joke with a smudge of reality, but Hwa-young was a good sport. She laughed lightly, head tilting back, looking so care-free it was helping me wind down.

Just as my shoulders begun to untense, a gong sounded through the Hall, tearing me away from the budding conversation. We both jolted and looked towards the head of the table where a greying man stood, his stance proud and strong. Light stubble decorated his wearied face, but it didn’t hide the handsomeness of an experienced warrior. I could feel the authority and respect radiating off of him, as everyone in the room turned to give him their undivided attention without needing a single word.

“Welcome novices,” he said simply, his voice was a little rough, but it held stead-fast and strong, booming through the silent hall, “to your first mating banquet. May your hunt be successful.” Clearly a man of few words, he quickly raised his glass and drank it in one go, a thunderous clap tearing through the space before the hungry faces turned to those who were the main interest of the evening.

I quickly scanned through the room, almost breaking my neck with how much I strained to see everywhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of other first-years. There was a young man standing alone by one of the entrances, and another group of two guardedly conversing closer to the head of the table, where the silver-haired man sat now completely uninterested in anything except for his food. To his right sat a dragoness, watching him with amusement and playing with her bright red hair, lips moving in what seemed to be teasing manner.

I watched their interaction for a moment longer, before Hwa-young turned my attention back to her, hand lightly grabbing onto my forearm as the woman leaned in closer to whisper: “The dragons have arrived.”

Snapping my head back towards the crowd, truly I could see newcomers – men and women with strong stances and shackles around their necks, faces either very carefully neutral or openly scowling at being paraded so openly. They mingled through the crowd, not really entertaining any looks or conversations.

“How many of us do you think there is?” I asked her, no longer being able to see the three students I discovered before. Hwa-young hummed, but ultimately shrugged her shoulders – I could feel the motion of them against my side more than I saw her.

“We should probably split up,” she whispered in the end, leaning away once more and slowly taking a step back, sending a cheeky smile my way, “See you around, fellow outcast.” With that she disappeared into the crowd so quickly I was actually concerned for several seconds before snapping out of it.

Left alone again, I had no other choice but to face the most challenging part of this event – socialising with my peers. All around me, people were conversing freely, some dragons even joining in their circles (most probably with their own bondeds) and the mood started rising again; though I could see some still watching me like vultures, curious who I’d choose to talk to.

For the moment, the most suitable strategy seemed to step back and observe, so I quickly manoeuvred myself through the throngs of people until I was leaning against a back wall. Right across me, across the whole hall, was the high-table where people tended to congregate more.

A flash of black and silver uniform alerted me to a novice that was conversing with a group of older students, but I couldn’t recognise whether it was one of the few I saw before or not. Slumping against the cold stone, I started searching through the crowds for someone that would be easy to approach.

I had no idea how much time I spent standing there, but at some point I started feeling the soreness and pain in my legs and feet crying for me to sit down. Shuffling slowly by the wall to the side towards chairs, my plan was suddenly thwarted by two men who made short of the distance with quick long strides, situating themselves into the corner.

Lucky bastards, the lot of them.

I stayed where I was, sighing tiredly and still undecided, when their conversation started up again.

“I hate that they call it a mating banquet,” the bigger of the two grumbled with a pout, “that’s clearly not what this is.” His head was shrouded in a very messy black bob haircut and small dark horns were protruding from his forehead, standing proudly with some strands tangled up around them and sticking out in weird angles. I held back a chuckle, bringing a glass with some sweet drink I’d managed to grab from the table to my lips quickly.

The other man sat more angled towards me and when he looked up, I had the best view in the entire room at his otherworldly beautiful face. I couldn’t hold back the gasp when I laid my eyes on him, the elegance and beauty he was exuding was truly almost too much for a mere mortal to handle. At first it seemed like his face actually glimmered, a slight shimmering catching my eyes constantly, before I realised his cheekbones and temples were covered in silvery blue scales. They blended into his skin perfectly and I found myself fighting a blush without him even having to look my way, that kind of effect he had on his surroundings.

Time to get it together, I told myself, slowly shuffling away and reprimanding myself internally for being a weirdo. And then he spoke.

“Bonding banquet doesn’t have such a ring to it, I suppose,” a melodic voice piped up, fading into a slight giggle at the end, “Though, something tells me if you were to show them what mating looks like, they wouldn’t be very entertained.” The horned dragon grumbled some more, clearly over this whole thing already.

“I wish Yoongi hyung came,” his voice sounded really pouty and whiney, making me silently snicker to myself again, “I bet he would have found a way to leave already. Or he’d terrify people enough to leave us alone.” At least we clearly were in the same boat, cheers to that.

Before I realised what was happening, because I was not so discreetly watching the two interact with a slight smile on my face like a dummy, there were quick heavy footsteps heading my way. I quickly snapped out of it as soon as I clocked that the person was aiming at me, and cursed under my breath when I saw Lord Kim with his fake predatory grin.

“The Kang youngling, what a surprise to see you here finally,” the man spoke loudly enough to have everyone in our vicinity snapping their heads to him and pushing all the attention to me. I pressed myself harder into the wall, the polite smile somewhat malfunctioning when he barrelled all the way into my personal space.

“Baron Kim, to what do I owe the pleasure?” came out through gritted teeth, the man clearly not understanding the meaning of boundaries. With every step away I took, he came closer, leaving us in an awkward shuffling match.

“Well, of course I have to welcome General Kang’s daughter to our unit, he wouldn’t want it any other way," the elderly man said sleazily, a disgusting grin plastered on his ugly mug. I had to fight not to laugh at his words – our unit? He’s never been a part of Qinglong, but he always wished for it – so instead he bought his way in. As a benefactor he was always invited and properly talked up with sweet, honeyed words, he even managed to wheedle a dragon out of them (though from what I understand, he didn’t ride as he was afraid of hights). I could only imagine what that poor man went through with this lowlife as his master.

“I’m sure my father would be happy to know I’m in such good hands,” I punched out of myself, the lie almost causing me physical pain. With most people who tried to gain the Kangs’ favour, it was hard to tell whether they really admired my father so much they turned insane or whether they secretly hated him and hated that they had to simper up to him; and that much could be said about Lord Kim as well.

Who knows where that old man’s loyalty lied and what his goals were, but the truth was that my father despised him and thought him to be an idiot.

While he started poetically voicing his well wishes and praises of the unit, I had a goal. Just a few metres away from me was an arch with glass doors open wide. As the second part of this event would take place outside, the garden there was already prepared and all I had to do was slip out and disappear quietly.

But between me and the open door sat the two dragons I had been listening to earlier, both of which had shut up now and watched my plight with varying degrees of interest and amusement, much like many others around us. When I glanced at the door again and happened to see the dark-haired dragon badly covering a cheeky smirk, clearly laughing at my expense, my eyes narrowed at him in faux anger.

The man had whole three seconds to realise I had seen him and take in my expression, before I side-stepped with the brightest smile I could muster and gestured towards the duo. Both of them froze like I just caught them stealing my grandma’s jewellery, wide eyes regarding me.

“Well, I was just about to come speak with these gentlemen, would you mind introducing me?” the overly sugary tone of my voice made the dragon’s eyes narrow at me in turn and when Lord Kim wasn’t watching I turned to him with a shit-eating grin. Truly, the baron was a curse that had to be shared, who was I to deny them the pleasure of his company?

The old man was clearly surprised with me jumping into his monologuing, eyes hopping between the three of us with his mouth hanging open slightly before he recovered and put on another polite smile.

“But of course!” he took it in stride, immediately sliding to the horned dragon’s side and clapping him on the shoulder lightly, which made the young man straighten. The obvious strength of his muscles and the wideness of his shoulders stood out even more like that, and it looked almost comical next to the stuttering Lord. He looked mildly afraid, but soldiered on, like a cursed auctioneer.

“Only the best for the general’s daughter, I see,” the flattery slipped out of his mouth with practiced ease before he once again gestured to the two young men, “these are two of the members of the Bangtan thunder.” Now it was my turn to freeze as those words poured over me.

Everything screeched to a halt and my eyes involuntarily jumped to the dragons who looked significantly more smug, sending cheeky teasing grins my way at having the rug pulled from under me like that. I could only imagine what kind of shock displayed on my face, but they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.

After the emperor’s personal thunder of dragons, which wasn’t a true thunder due to the fact that he was the one who collected them instead of them bonding naturally, Bangtan was the second most known. They’ve been mated for as long as anyone currently alive (and many generations before that) could remember and hosted seven of some of the most powerful dragons known to be currently existing. And while they’ve had riders before, everyone was aware that the sovereign himself didn’t like to see when people bonded them due to their strength and unbreakable pack loyalty.

Thus some of the dragons from the thunder were known as their own entities, based on their powers and achievements, turning into a sort of living legends that walked among humans but could rarely be seen or touched. Really, I should have known the second one of them mentioned Yoongi, but I didn’t even realise that was the name uttered.

Everybody who was interested in dragons knew of these seven, even if the chances of seeing them were low.

“This one here is Jungkook,” Lord Kim continued completely unperturbed, clapping the bigger dragon on his back again, although much more hesitantly, and then he pointed at the ethereally beautiful man, “and that one is Jimin.”

The blush was back under the intense scrutiny of the silver-scaled man, and all I could think of while I put the face to the name was that it made perfect sense. Of course he was someone this unreal, with all the stories about his charms and seductions that were being told by people who encountered the thunder.

He seemed to be satisfied with flustering me, a small smile setting onto his lips in victory.

Now that I thought about it, it was true that people naturally avoided these two, and there was a circle of empty space around the armchairs as even now people hesitated to move closer and join in the conversation. Everyone seemed to be aware of their identity.

I mentally face-palmed myself. I was supposed to be a knight, perception was supposed to be one of my strong suits.

“Come on boys,” Lord Kim drawled out again, “Greet the young Kang.” Silence followed, stretching between us awkwardly while the elderly man became more wooden with each second passing, red setting into his face in embarrassment and indignation at being ignored so blatantly. Then, both of them nodded slightly.

I bowed to them fully, bending at the waist in a (hopefully) perfect 90 degrees angle, hands clasped in front of my chest in a gesture of respect.

“It is an honour to meet you, sir Jimin and sir Jungkook,” it’s obvious my politeness shocked them, as the moment I come back up their eyes are wide and staring at me. Lord Kim started grumbling something about ungrateful dragons, feeling ashamed at such a lukewarm welcome from the boys, and the moment he wasn’t looking, I flashed them a teasing smirk.

Thankfully Lord Kim got interrupted once again in the middle of his tearful tirade and with many apologies he rushed off, the relief visible as his shoulders sagged the moment he wasn’t anywhere near the Bangtan dragons.

The three of us watched him for a moment before our eyes redirected back to each other, a strange but not unpleasant atmosphere hanging over us. Before I could start feeling the silence turn awkward, Jimin’s eyes narrowed at me, but there was still a slight upwards curl to his lips.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” he drawled out in his melodic hypnotic voice, eyes dark and stormy. I flushed from head to toe, thoughts stuttering, still not used to being perceived by someone like him, and it still served to amuse him greatly as he leaned back into the armchair.

Jungkook over at his chair watched me with a mischievous expression, his big dark eyes making him seem so innocent if it wasn’t for the cheeky curl to his lips. I realised there were several piercings all over his face and ears, strangely fitting his persona quite well, and as he squirmed in his seat, I could see tattoos peeking out of his robe’s sleeves. His tongue peeked out a little as he smirked at me, preparing to speak as well.

“You were laughing at me,” I beat him to it, batting my eyelashes in faux sweetness, “Of course I had to repay you for that.” The two dragons scoffed, making themselves more comfortable and I could see the exact moment the apprehension bled out of them, and I wasn’t deemed a threat anymore.

“Well, welcome to the unit newling,” Jungkook said, and it hit me that even though he looked very young for a dragon, he was still most likely hundreds of years old, and I choked a little on the smart retort. The man must have realised that’s what happened, because he was smirking up a storm like a little shit.

To my surprise, I also found myself relaxing in their presence, the ease with which we interacted never really came to me this readily. I was mostly stiff and nervous and dancing around topics and words in fear of offending or giving people excuses to spread rumours and mock my father. Not that I particularly cared about his image, but because I knew I would be the one to reap the consequences if something uncouth started making its way through the high society. I didn’t feel such pressure with these two, who watched me with curious but frank eyes.

“That is most definitely a nicer welcome than Lord Kim,” I muttered absent-mindedly, half-way lost in thought, wracking my brain for the last time I talked with someone with this much elation. Jimin giggled at that, drawing my attention back to him with a little bit of a leftover fluster from before.

“Don’t worry, everyone in this room shares that opinion,” he said leisurely, laid back in his chair elegantly, “He tends to annoy everyone he speaks to. Especially our kin.” Jungkook nodded at that, something dark and solemn creeping into his eyes.

“He doesn’t know the meaning of manners,” the horned dragon supplied darkly, face hard and unfriendly as he caught sight of the older human man again. I nodded in sympathy, knowing very well how the man could get.

“Lord Kim is one of those people who never leave you alone once they realise they can benefit from you,” I added to the conversation, moving a little closer to the armchairs so that I could lower my voice and make sure none of the nosey onlookers caught onto our conversation. The man might be generally disliked, but I still wouldn’t be taking any chances while gossiping like this.

“He’s been trying to get into my father’s favour for years, but he absolutely despises him,” I shared with them, the open secret not really something that had to be kept hush even though no one normally said it out loud, “Father thinks he’s a right dunce.”

The boys grinned. “Well, he’s right about that. I’ve known the man for decades and he hasn’t changed a single bit,” Jimin added his two cents, once again reminding me that I was speaking to nigh immortal beings that have been around for far longer than I was able to comprehend, “He’s a snake. A rat.” I hummed and nodded again, the conversation dying down after that.

I looked through the room from my new vantage point, finally far enough to observe as no one really wanted to approach the corner with the two Bangtan dragons.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just about them being powerful and dangerous, but the emperor’s habit to control who rode them in fear of losing his power over them generally scared people away from interacting. Therefore, the only ones that were bonded to them were either recruited by the ruler himself or found themselves under his intense scrutiny. Because of that, riders tended to stray away from the Bangtan thunder, too afraid to bring unto themselves the sovereign’s ire.

My eyes were caught on a flash of black and silver, messy bun now somehow even more messed up as Hwa-young cheerfully conversed with another woman. The power was radiating off of her powerful stance and proud straight shoulders, dark charcoal hair falling freely over them and sometimes giving off dark green flashes when the light reflected off of them just right. Their stance was relaxed, and it seemed that their chat was going well and amicably.

“Your friend is conversing with Yong,” Jimin intercepted my shameless staring, and I realised both of the dragons were watching me raptly, “She is a righteous dragoness. A good one, strong and brave, even though a little hard-headed.” Jungkook snickered at that, hiding his smile behind his hand as the dragoness threw the subtlest little amused look their way, and I realised she must have heard them all across the room with her enhanced senses.

“The old ones always are,” the tattooed man added with a teasing lilt to his voice and both dragons watched giggling as the one called Yong discreetly flipped them off while pretending to dust off her shoulder. Hwa-young at this point seemed to catch on, I saw her confused face as she turned around and immediately brightened up the moment she noticed me, waving her hand enthusiastically. I returned it, just as amused as my companions.

“Are you not interested in ‘the hunt’?” Jimin asked me suddenly, something bitter creeping into his expression as he signalled air quotes around the word. I gazed at him for a few quiet moments, taking in the abrupt tenseness in his posture.

“I was trying to observe and find someone easy to approach,” I answered truthfully, “but then Lord Kim found me. I never got around to walking up to someone.” All three of us focused back onto the place swarming with people, the boys now amusing themselves by pointing out dragons that weren’t talking to anyone and had “good potential”.

“Are you trying to get rid of me right now?” I asked laughing, jumping into Jungkook’s long monologue about a young fire dragon standing alone in a corner few metres away from us. He halted in the middle of a word, giving me a cheeky glance and I already started recognising the mischievous glint in his smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from finding your dragon,” he drawled out in a playful manner, looking like he was two seconds away from batting his eyelashes at me, “and since you didn’t officially declare your intent to try a bond with us, I assume you must be wanting to be on your way to meet another one.” That took all the wind from my sails, the witty retort dying on my tongue as the dragons both looked at me with mischievous eyes.

“I honestly didn’t know that was an option,” came out a little scratchy and quiet, immediately making my cheeks burst into flames as the two dragons regarded me with teasing eyes.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Jungkook proclaimed cheerily and stood up abruptly. Suddenly he was towering good two heads over me, his wide sturdy shoulders almost casting a shadow over my form. I gulped, seeing him now in his full glory, it suddenly made sense as to why people thought him to be intimidating. Even though he seemed to be a little goof.

Jungkook then did something that shocked not only me and Jimin, but also everyone standing around keeping an eye on the interaction – he offered me his hand, free of gloves that dragons always wore. Stunned speechless I eyed the outstretched appendage for a few tense moments, out of the corner of my eye noting Jimin’s mouth hanging open, face wearing an expression of such open surprise it was almost comical. There were some gasps and whisperings from behind us, Jungkook’s gaze ever so often jumping over my shoulder and levelling someone with a glare.

The reason for such reaction was a quite simple one – this plain action was the whole purpose of this banquet. Well, at least partly.

I for once wasn’t expecting to get a handshake this easily, usually dragons guarded themselves and needed a lot more persuading before they even considered taking such a step with the potential riders, but here we were – Jungkook’s hand awkwardly hanging in the air between us as he grew exponentially more nervous with every second I didn’t take it.

The easiest way to describe the link between a dragon and its rider would be to call it a magical bond, one very similar to that of mated pairs and thunders. Bonds like these linked the two beings together closer than most humans could imagine. It was very important to cultivate the bond and grow it strong, to intertwine the two hearts and support the care and trust that needed to exist between the two, otherwise even strong bonds could easily deteriorate or the connection wouldn’t reach its full potential.

It also allowed the human part of the bond to benefit from the dragon’s magic (while vast majority of humans weren’t magic, we were pretty compatible with it if borrowed) – it enhanced the rider’s senses and strength, established a mind link and enabled telepathic communication, which was sorely needed while on dragonback (believe it or not, it was hard to talk to someone while flying at high velocity sitting on their back).

And a bond like this, like any other, required a certain compatibility. Dragons, as the higher level magical beings of the two, were mostly the ones who felt the potential someone carried to successfully establish a bond, but the easiest way to find out was physical contact. Once you touched, the potential would most definitely be felt (according to what I heard, it felt a little like an electric hum passing through the place of contact) – or not, based on the situation.

That’s why they usually wore their hands covered, to avoid accidental connections and half-way there bonds.

A dragon could have several potential bondeds, it wasn’t exclusive until one was chosen to take the next step, but once this compatibility was discovered, it was crucial to try and learn the person to aid in the process of decision making. It was slightly similar to the process of courting.

Due to these reasons, it was quite rare for a dragon to offer someone the opportunity to touch them – and find out whether they were potentially compatible.

This banquet, even though it was called the mating banquet (as the boys pointed out it should be more of a bonding banquet as mating happened exclusively between couples and thunders), this banquet was more of a getting to meet your options kind of deal. Rarely someone offered you their hand after only a few exchanged sentences.

Thus, the stunned silence stretched between the three of us and an expectant kind of hunger reflected in eyes of those around us. Had I been more in the headspace to take notice of my surroundings, I’d have realised the hum of conversation somewhat lulled as people noted the situation and kept one eye on us while they pretended to keep the chatter up.

Jimin sat frozen in his chair, his face mortified, as if Jungkook committed some cardinal faux-pas (which he probably did to be honest, dragon etiquette was a little bit different than the human one), and I would almost take offence to it if I wasn’t completely stupefied myself.

The cheeky dragon in question though seemed completely unperturbed, even as nervousness started tugging at his handsome smile, but he valiantly tried to withstand it, keeping the hand hanging and his face a picture of mischief.

And I found that I quite liked the total disregard of rules he presented.

Finally gathering my bearings, I felt my own face stretch into a sassy grin and without a moment more of hesitation I grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly in a sure handshake. And the rumours were in fact true, though the extent was sorely understated – our energies merging in a single burst of raw potential felt like a shock of electricity running from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulder, the aftershocks buzzing through me like I got hit by lightning.

I gasped, a little too loud, and instinctively went to rip my hand away from the grip, but Jungkook didn’t let me. His eyes were trained on me, subtly glowing with a dark purple haze, grin turning a little sharper. But it didn’t put me on edge, quite the opposite – it felt like I won something.

Then our hands let go and the spell was broken, the remnants of a shimmering haze setting into my mind and bones. I could still feel the phantom tingles in my fingers, and they flexed almost subconsciously, trying to chase away the foreign sensation.

“Wow,” came a quiet breathless exclamation from Jimin, the smaller man still sitting in his place but now looking at our hands with wonder and disbelief, “that was strong.” The flush immediately flooded my cheeks once more (truly, it was starting to be embarrassing, I’d never been like this around anyone, though it could have something to do with the fact that I generally liked dragons a little more than I did humans) and I took a tiny step back, fighting my lungs to expand and take in more breath, my whole body feeling like I had to manually haul it back into working order.

Though one look at my now potential bonded showed me that he was similarly blushing, cheeks a healthy pink colour, lips pursed in a shy smile and eyes watching me full of emotion that was entirely too fragile and tender.

Before I could blurt out something that could potentially either embarrass or straight hurt the man, Jimin immediately jumped in, probably sensing his mate’s emotional state.

“Sorry about that,” he told me, gently looking over his lover, “Bonds of this strength can sometimes put us into a strange mindset. He’ll be back to himself in a few moments.” The silvery dragon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, the man deliberating whether he should speak more or not, but ultimately he only gave me a tight smile and started manhandling Jungkook back into the chair.

I felt that there was something crucial that wasn’t shared to me, but if Jimin thought it too personal to say, I didn’t want to push him. I myself still felt the little bursts of our energies merging, the aura around my hand suddenly feeling cold and empty, as if it was missing a significant piece.

Leave it to me to be the one person that even has a clingy aura. I glared at the offending appendage as if scolding it, quickly folding both my arms behind my back and trying to make is as natural as possible. Even my hair felt singed with the potential bond manifesting, and I swore I could smell something burnt, only hoping it either wasn’t something visible or my mind was just playing tricks on me.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” a hushed whisper made it to me and I was torn away from my own musings, attention now back to the two men who seemed to be locked in a very private exchange, both leaned towards each other and whispering so that nothing but a hum could be heard.

Realising the words weren’t meant for me, I cleared my throat and took another step back, the singed hand quickly thrown in the direction of the buffet table in a last hail mary attempt to find an appropriate escape. “I am going to…” I started, voice still a little breathless, “I want something to drink, would you also like something?”

I could see on Jimin’s face before he even opened his mouth to speak that he was going to decline, but Jungkook quickly jumped in, his volume rising a little more than he was anticipating.

“I’ll have water!” the horned dragon seemed a little embarrassed by the outburst too, but when Jimin stared at him incredulously he seemed quite unapologetic. I nodded slowly, taking another step, then nodded again like the words just registered in my mind.

“Sure.” With that I woodenly walked over to the main table that dominated the Grand Hall.

I felt the looks, some curious, some envious and some outright raging, but I ignored them all. This, for now, still meant nothing. Even though the power of it shocked us both (all three if counted Jimin), it meant nothing. I was still one of many that could vie for the young dragon’s attention.

The thought left a bad aftertaste in my mouth, a strange uncomfortable feeling setting in my stomach at the prospect of someone else trying to be Jungkook’s bonded, and I quickly pushed those feelings away, grumbling to myself.

I thought I knew what to expect, but no one told me a bond felt like this. No one warned me it would mess with my head and with my mind, send my heart racing when I faced the image of losing the chance to bring this to a successful end. I only knew the man for barely an hour, for fuck’s sake! He didn’t even express an intention to pursue this!

I slowly begun to understand why it was generally more accepted to wait to know the person a little bit more, if this was how the link manifested.

Giving myself a metaphorical slap I swiftly wrangled the reigns safely back into my logical side’s hands and fully focused on finding a cup and water.

I more felt than saw a presence at my right, someone sidling up to me closer than necessary with how much space this table took up. Still a little emotionally charged, when I turned to confront this person, I was already irritated.

What greeted me was a sleazy smile on a middle-aged face, a greying stubble and a mop of dark slowly silvering hair. The man was human, that much was obvious, and there was a woman with a judgemental look on her face hanging off of his arm, most probably his wife. I gave them both a once-over, trying to take in as many details as possible to clue me in to the man’s identity, but he would no doubt introduce himself.

My eyes promptly caught on an insignia with a burning rising sun, meaning he was one of the councilmen – he must have been very well acquainted with my family, though his name continued to escape me. I sighed, shoulders slumping and then I forced on a polite smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” despite the words, my voice didn’t speak of pleasure nor joy, instead the annoyance bled in quite heavily, almost to a point of being rude. The duo didn’t seem phased, the man’s smile maybe even brightening at my words and the woman’s face still in the same grimace as before.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet,” he started immediately, ignoring my words and tone completely, “Please, call me Lord Lee.” He offered me his hand and I had a very brief but a very intense flashback to Jungkook’s, before I shook it off and very reluctantly took it.

“Are you perhaps the Duke of Western territories?” I enquired, forcing my attention back to the table to show him I wasn’t interested in him and his words, trying to sound as bored as possible.

A chuckle came from him, the woman still completely silent, before he shuffled even closer.

“The one and only,” there was a showman lilt to his intonation, and I felt a wave of distaste towards this man so strong I almost visibly shuddered. He thought he was so charismatic, the poor sod. I only hummed, hands now moving onto one of the few untouched platters of small desserts and quickly plating some.

A moment of silence, then more shuffling – this time thankfully not closer to me as that would entail him brushing my side, though I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t do that even in the middle of a room full of armed knights.

“I just felt that congratulations were in order,” he said finally, a lot more bite to his words now that I’ve managed to offend him, “We all saw you with that dragon.” My hands paused minutely before resuming their actions. The disrespectful address to Jungkook didn’t escape me neither.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Lee,” I answered sweetly, “It was just an introduction. It can still go in a very different direction. Nothing is set in stone. Yet.”

It seemed that the man didn’t come over to suck my father’s dick as my sass was very much not appreciated by him and I could see his face turn into an unfriendly scowl.

“Well, of course that the Kang family cannot disappoint by not aiming straight at Bangtan,” the hostility in his stance suddenly doubled as he spit this out, forcing me to take a step back from the unfiltered fury, “Only the best for the general’s daughter.” He was mocking me, but the anger made it hard to decipher it as anything else than pure envy.

I tried to keep my face neutral, even as my own anger and resentment resurfaced. Father made many enemies, and thanks to his attitude we as his children often caught the brunt of resentful disgruntled councilmen and their offspring trying to cope with their bruised egos by punishing us instead of the untouchable man.

And we were expected to just go with it, lest our behaviour reflects badly on him.

I stared at the duke for a moment longer, trying to look as unimpressed as humanly possible, until the fire died down within him a little and he started shuffling on his spot. “Lord Lee,” I started, channelling the disappointed teacher energy that my father often had whenever we displeased him, “as I said, and you should know this, anyone can come up to them and strike up a connection. I might not be the only person this year compatible to them.”

The man pursed his lips and didn’t speak any further, though the unspoken rebuttal hung in the air between us. And I knew that the words stuck in his throat were true, but he couldn’t say them for they were too daring.

Anyone couldn’t, I did because the emperor approved of my father. I would be allowed near Bangtan thanks to my father’s position.

I raised my eyebrow at the suddenly silent man, challenging him to speak his mind, but he knew if he said those words, it would be speaking out against the crown just as much as against my father. And that could cost him his life.

“Let’s hope the most suitable person wins this race, then,” he settled on finally, and without even looking for my reaction he turned on his heel and walked away, dragging the still quiet woman with him. I scoffed loudly, not bothering to hide it as everyone saw our interaction anyway, and finally was able to leave the table.

People moved out of my way cautiously as I walked through the room, trying to pretend that they weren’t paying attention to me and still making sure to clear the spot as soon as I neared them like I had some terrible contagious disease. It was quite ridiculous, and it left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

My feet carried me across the room without any clear goal in my mind, not quite ready to return to the two dragons, especially since everyone saw the scene now. Them two no doubt also heard it with their strong hearing, and it would be too awkward to speak to them now.

The moment I spotted a slender figure talking to a green-haired dragon, I immediately swerved to go talk to them for a moment, hoping to escape the situation for a moment longer.

Somewhat clumsily crashing into their conversation, balancing two glasses and a plate of sweets, that most definitely got their attention, Hwa-young turning to grin at me while the dragoness kept her face a carefully sculpted mask of aloof interest.

“Cake?” I blurted out abruptly, raising the plate between us like an offering, instantly feeling the heat in my cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, please,” my schoolmate groaned in joy, hand already reaching for one of the small chocolate treats. The dragoness, Yong as I learnt, was watching us, face impassive, but I could see a glint of something soft in her eyes when her gaze fell onto the cheerful petite woman currently stuffing her face next to us.

Even though I met Hwa-young maybe an hour ago, I was glad Yong seemed to be interested in the young woman’s well-being.

But then her eyes suddenly jumped back to me, boring deep into my soul.

“Bangtan are honourable dragons,” she said finally, her voice a little lower than I anticipated, but smooth as velvet, “They strive for good, maybe more than most.” Her words brought a little smile to my face, reminiscent of the earlier conversation that went basically along the same lines.

My eyes flitted over to the corner where the two men sat hoping to catch their reaction to her words, only to find it empty and the dragons nowhere to be found. I frowned instinctively, hands tightening over the glass of water that Jungkook asked for with heart squeezing, but quickly tampered those thoughts down.

The connection must have been really messing with my head.

I ended up trailing after Hwa-young and her dragoness after that, like a lost puppy, until the greying man stood up once more and announced it was time to move outside. With a deep heaving sigh I abandoned the glass and plates and steeled myself for the true pinnacle of the afternoon.

Hwa-young, once she noticed my uneasiness, gave me an empathetic smile, hand patting me a few times on my shoulder, before she confidently walked up to the glass door and out to the patio, followed by Yong with her curious eyes trained on the knightess.

While the first part of the banquet was mostly for introductions and fraternising, the second part moved outside – that’s why the perfect weather was needed for the day of the event and the court seers and astronomers worked hard to pick an auspicious date to ensure that.

Now the attention from the dragons, a novelty to some and a delicious masquerade to others, the spotlight would shift purely on the novices as we were to partake in several “friendly” competitions to show off our skills.

It was all also a part of the bond creating process, as the show was mostly for the dragons to see their prospective riders and help them choose who’d they like to approach – basically a talent show under the guise of some silly little sportsmanship.

It was also the part I was, surprisingly, even more nervous about than the talking.

When I got outside, most people were already sitting around on the prepared benches, leisurely chatting with the poise only the bored and the filthy rich could have. Five people were already standing in the designated area, fiddling with bows and quivers full of arrows. Quickly, I made my way towards Hwa-young, grabbing my own weapons on the way.

So there was six of us this year. I tried to steal glances at the others to see if maybe I recognised someone, but all of their faces were escaping me. I might have seen them somewhere, but I couldn’t put any names to them, nor their factions or alliances or families.

One man stood all the way in the other corner by himself, air of pompousness and arrogance so thick around him I could sense it all across the field. It bled into every single one of his movements, into the expression on his pale elegant face, even into the way he flicked his long straight black hair out of his face.

Two others stood a little away from him, closer to each other but not interacting in any way. Their faces were carefully sculpted cold expressionless masks as they held the bows in their hands ready for the contest, not talking, not looking out into crowd, nothing.

The last man stood the closest to us, all by himself but with his shoulders relaxed and a positive aura surrounding him. His hands were casually drumming a rhythm into the wood of the bow, foot tapping happily into the dense dirt compacted by thousands upon thousands of armoured shoes walking over it every day. When he noticed me looking his way, he suddenly brightened and gave me a happy smile.

That was enough to shock me into turning back to my own bow and I ignored the cheery man, not that he seemed very offended by that. Instead he immediately changed targets to Hwa-young standing next to me and the two fell into a hushed conversation after a few smiles exchanged.

The bow in my hand was worn, it wouldn’t be impossible to use it, but it was obvious they were some old weapons taken from some forgotten unloved storage. The royal palace insisted that we would use the military’s tools to ensure fairness, but I truly wasn’t expecting them to pull out bows that were probably older than half the men standing around the edges of the training area. And there were dragons present.

Speaking of which, on my next cursory look over the gathered crowd I was able to spot the two Bangtan boys (men?) standing on one side a little bit away from everyone else, eyes already trained on me.

In a split second I noticed and realised three things – Jimin’s hair was actually a really deep dark blue, he was looking at me with a much unfriendlier look than before and Jungkook sent me a shit-eating grin before waving cheekily. I scoffed, kind of amused by his attitude, but also significantly weirded out by the change in vibe in his companion.

While yes, it was very unusual to be dishing out handshakes left right front and centre, but I just kind of assumed Jungkook was one of those who didn’t really care about propriety all too much. He had a vibe of a man that loved to see the world burn, and I had to deeply respect that. His whole aura screamed of youth and mischief, so I chalked up his unusual behaviour up to that. But it seemed that Jimin wasn’t exactly impressed with him, as he eyed me with mistrust like I brainwashed his mate into bonding with me.

Loud clinking brought my attention away from those two and my eyes slowly drifted back to the greying man and who I presumed was his dragoness. That was another mystery to me – it was obvious he was in some sort of position of power, but I’ve never met him nor seen him before – I knew he wasn’t in charge of the unit, and he wasn’t even between the teachers that we met during the trials – and I went through them a few times, as we previously established.

He stood up, the same detached expression on his face, and cleared his throat. “Let the games begin,” he proclaimed simply, “We will start with a shooting competition.” Then he shuffled a little under all that attention before sitting back down. I hid my smile behind my palm while watching his bonded laugh at him. You had to love the way he didn’t want to be here as much as everyone else.

The mirth quickly drained out of me though when I realised with our positioning I would end up going first. I cursed under my breath, my hands growing clammy and shaking, desperately gripping the bow and attempting to look as collected as possible. If we at least started with sword fighting, but we had to jump straight into shooting.

This was exactly what I was afraid of, the mounting shame of what was about to come already drowning me and pulling me under the sea of emotions, leaving me helplessly gasping for air. My lungs painfully constricted, but I got into position nonetheless.

There was a reason for why I struggled to enter this unit in particular, even when I was hell-bent on joining the horns. Growing up with a general for a father, I had been trained from small age – I knew how to properly hold a sword before I learned to use the toilet on my own, but my father was a master of heavy weaponry. He was known for his massive bagua-dao swords, occasionally reaching for scimitars or sabres – not too much for his marksmanship. He was still an incredibly efficient archer, but he preferred not to be stuck with a bow and arrows where there could be blood spilt.

Therefore I somewhat gravitated towards those weapons as well – and well, I wasn’t as sufficient with long-range attacks. I’d always achieve a ‘just close enough’, but I rarely hit the mark precisely. But on dragonback, you had no choice but to aid your troops with ranged attacks.

As one of the trainers back during my first trial put it – ‘A dragon rider that can’t shoot a bow and arrow is like a whore without a pussy’. Truly, what a charming man.

I’d improved a lot, enough to manage to weasel my way into the elite unit, but still my shooting wasn’t perfect. And when you wore a name like Kang, that was a social suicide.

My ears all out of nowhere picked up how the crowd quieted, through the roaring blood and the anxious thoughts, and I realised they all hungrily anticipated my performance. Taking a few stabilising breaths, I tried to reinforce my hands and stop their shaking.

Through the bundle of nerves lodged into my throat and the stones slowly setting into my stomach, I fought to empty myself – my heart, my head – to bring about that one-track focus to the centre of the target that stood off to the distance.

Time slowed down, my heart pumped wildly and my head spun and I let go. The arrow elegantly swished through the air, faster than many were able to see, and embedded itself deep into the straw target, just shy of the red circle dominating it.

Even anticipating those results, my heart still sank knowing that everyone saw. Murmurs rose and the pit of humiliation threatened to swallow me. I hated how I was already berating myself for not doing better, how I was already fearing what would my father say once I got home, how I was too scared to turn around and face their mocking eyes and sneers.

I hated the castle, and I knew that I was on the precipice of getting devoured whole by it.

With shaky sweaty hands I stood there and watched all the other novices hit perfect mark, the waves of polite ovations reaching my ears through the cotton of my inner turmoil.

The second round came, all the eyes turned to me again, and I knew the moment I released the bowstring that the nerves won over me, barrelled through my psyche and I was lost to the chant of insecurities going through my head.

The arrow hit a little to the left of the first one, a tiny bit further from the centre than before.

The weight on my shoulders was pulling them down and I was tenser, more uncomfortable, but I kept my composure. It was crucial that I showed no weakness now, that would be inviting even more trouble. I felt bile rising through my pharynx but swallowed it down and instead forced myself to stand tall with head held high.

I didn’t gather the courage to turn around until the last arrow was released.

I let myself be ushered towards a different area prepared for us while the target practice was moved around and prepared for the final spectacle of the afternoon. In the meanwhile, we were to fight with swords. That was more of a stable ground for me.

Perfectly there was just the right amount of us to compete in twos and I was already hoping that I wouldn’t end up with the snotty kid from the end of the line lest I might try to kill him for sure. Trying to avoid any polite chatter between us and also pointedly not look towards the crowd, I started perusing the weapons offered, thinking of what the best strategy would be to take.

A shortsword was a classic, but nothing too impressive. A longsword a similar case. Though if I had to choose, I’d preferred the two-handed longsword, I had a tendency to get a little too swingy with one-handed weapons. There was a scimitar, which was a solid option even though more suited for horseback – but once again, I’d prefer two-handed weapons.

All the way at the end of the prepared rack (it didn’t escape my attention there was only one for all of us) sat a dadao and bagua-dao right next to each other, glinting in the sun like cruel smiles. As far as I was aware, no one here would actually reach for those – they weren’t standard weapons people were taught to operate.

They were there for me. For family legacy.

That was enough for me to make my choice.

While the others just made it over to the rack and started paying it more attention, I grabbed the plain longsword and moved towards the area fenced off for a duel. I sensed the confused, surprised and mocking gazes rolling off of my back, but I didn’t let their disappointment muddle my already arguably shitty day any more.

I wasn’t here to give them a show. I was here to bond with a dragon.

When everyone had chosen their weapons (I was right, no one went for the dao swords), we all stood there for a moment, too nervous to actually say anything. The arrogant prick was acting like we were all beneath him, but the rest of us eyed the others apprehensively, trying to gauge with who we’d like to end up in a duel.

The puppy boy was now hanging about Hwa-young, the two of them seemed to make fast friends, and honestly, I understood that. I was also drawn into her aura quite quickly, though my current stress prevented me from relaxing around anyone at the moment.

Taking notice of the weapons others chose, I started realising that something didn’t add up. There was only one of each, and it would be impossible to have a proper duel if one person has a longsword and the other a scimitar. It wasn’t that unusual for the battlefield, but in duelling it wasn’t done.

Looking around, there was another rack of weapons on the other side of the fenced area – where we wouldn’t be able to go at the moment due to the fences. It all started clicking in my mind just as Lord Kim of all people stepped up on a little platform and gestured to get the attention of the slowly quieting crowd.

“As was tradition for the second discipline,” he started pompously, chest puffed up and face painted with a sleazy smile, “the novices would duel each other. This year we chose to make a little change for the entertainment of those watching.” I could see a few of us looking confused or slightly uncomfortable, and my own heart tightened for a moment.

Lord Kim gestured somewhere behind him and six people walked up to the rack of weapons on the other side. Three men and three women, all looking coldly towards the baron, standing side by side and anxiously awaiting the order to grab their weapons. It wasn’t that hard to deduce they were all dragons.

Silence fell over us while the crowd clapped happily, the vile joy reflected in their gazes, while we exchanged worried glances. Hwa-young’s face was drawn into a tight serious expression, a stark difference to how she was just a few minutes ago, while the guy by her side shuffled from foot to foot wordlessly.

The only one that didn’t seem to be bothered by the revelation was the smug bastard who stood a little away from us, serenely holding a sabre in his hand and looking straight at a man with flaming red spiky hair, who steadily ignored his attention.

How curious.

I watched as Kim gave the order with a flick of his wrist and the selected six moved with a purpose straight to their chosen weapons. The redhead without hesitation reached for the sabre, eyes glued to the ground and trying to blend in as much as possible, not stand out at all.

I felt a simmer of rage bubble up inside my chest and turned to stare daggers at the newbie only to see that he was already looking at me with a stupid smirk on his face.

So he already knew. He must have been close to someone high up in the unit then – that would make things difficult.

Swearing to myself to find out who was his patron, I made my distaste known on my face all for him to see and then turned back to our chosen opponents, searching for the one with a longsword. Eyes jumping from one to other, I finally found the weapon in the hands of a tall dragoness, her curly ginger hair falling down her back all the way to her tailbone. She as well was already watching me, but her eyes were unreadable, her lips a thin straight line.

The baron’s chuckle had our tense eyes drawing back to him. He stood there, with an awful sharp grin on his face, arms thrown out in a grand gesture, gaze jumping around our faces.

“Well, let the second discipline begin,” Lord Kim announced, “Happy fighting!” He laughed loudly, gestures dramatic and over the top, and then leisurely made his way back to sit next to… Duke Lee. What was it… birds of a feather?

I scoffed at the two men sitting there and acting like old chaps, all chummy and cozy next to each other. Baron Kim was really getting better at dick sucking, look at him, making his way all the way to the duke. Talent had to be recognised.

“Young mistress Kang!” the exclamation of my name startled me into stumbling to turn around, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at me. The dragoness was standing in the middle of the fighting arena, sword hanging from her hands limply. There was a touch of annoyance displayed on her face, but it was obvious she was trying to tamper it down as to not get into trouble.

I flushed lightly but diligently moved into the arena without any more stalling. Of course I’d go first again, we were probably going to keep the order from the first discipline. My nerves were skyrocketing, and I held the sword in my clammy hands.

Fighting in a duel against a same-aged human wasn’t something that brought too much stress to me, it was actually the one discipline of the three I was very confident in and looked forward to. General Kang never went easy on anyone, including his small children even during the first years of our training and I knew I could probably take on half the people from the military and be fine.

Duelling against a centuries old dragon with so much more strength and sharper senses though, that was a completely different story. Defeating a dragon, even in a sword fight, was virtually impossible. It took a lot of training, mostly with specific dragons, and most people resorted to underhanded tactics to gain an upper hand.

So the desired effect of this duel was most likely to present well with tactics, endurance and skill, not to actually aim to win. It was hard entering a ring knowing you will lose the fight, hard to muster up the courage to the absolute most to win when you know it’s a done deal from before you even stepped in, but this, like many other things, was mostly about appearances.

With a sigh I took my position and gestured to my opponent that I was ready. She did the same immediately and in a second a whistle sounded through the air, letting us know the match had started.

Nobody made a move at first, both of us holding our stance and slowly circling the arena, gauging the other and calculating the best approach.

I admittedly wasn’t the type to jump in headfirst into offensive, it usually took me a while to attack. Sometimes it was to psych the other out, sometimes I just wanted to see what they would do first and adapt to their strategy accordingly. But she seemed to be doing the same thing, so for a few long moments silence enveloped the crowd as they watched us with bated breaths.

I held the sword in a front guard, tip pointing right at her neck, and I just had a split second to register the tightening of her hands on the grip before she was suddenly lunging forward with a straight strike, aiming for my abdomen.

The habit kicked in and I cockstepped to the side, sword immediately flying in a circle guard to parry her attack before I retreated again. There was determination in her face, and she didn’t seem to be terribly appalled by my stance, so I counted that as a win.

This went on for a long while, one of us suddenly lunging forward in an attack to surprise the other, then parry, counter-attack and then retreat, circling around the edges of the arena. I couldn’t hear anything from outside those fences, I had no idea if people were entertained or not, if they watched or not, if they even said anything at all. All my attention was poured into the form of my opponent, watching her every single move.

Longsword was about agility, being quick on your feet and keeping your contender appropriately far to be able to land a hit but not close enough for them to land it back, and I used my small stature and quickness to my advantage a lot when fighting, but even though I was able to stand my ground, I felt the disparity in our strengths.

She was taking it easy on me, I was aware of that. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to parry that easily against a blow with full dragon power behind it, and while she was able to keep her composure, I already felt my body faltering. There was sweat streaming down my face, I felt it soaking through the uniform and making my grip sloppy. My legs were starting to get tired, and I stumbled a few times while side-stepping away from her attacks.

Her movements stayed effortless and fluid, her sword steady and sharp. I started to slip up.

As our patience ran out, the number of attacks increased and finally we were giving the audience what it wanted – an offensive after an offensive, barely giving the other time to counter. She must have tested my strength, because suddenly her blows became much more heavy-handed – she aimed to end this match soon.

She almost overpowered me with a diagonal cut, and my ankle twisted as I turned. Pain burst through me, face turning into a grimace. Her face reflected sure victory, sword already aiming for abdominal horizontal cut.

Last minute I turned my sword into downward guard, turned around it and swung for her right side. There was a split second of surprise on her features, the edge just a hair away from her clothes when she managed to jump away, and I gambled.

Turning my legs into a stable stance I lunged forward, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. The dull tip aimed straight at the side of her lower abdomen, sword flying through the air. The element of surprise did a lot for me, but she managed to evade.

I cursed, sweat slipping into my eyes and making it hard to see. I didn’t even have the moment to wipe it away. The dragoness disappeared from my field of vision, and I fought my own body to turn quickly, but it wasn’t enough.

When I turned, sword already in position to take upwards diagonal cut at her, there was a tip aimed at my neck. I felt it prick the skin when I stumbled with the momentum, eyes trained on her hands on the handle.

Everything froze for a few seconds, few long seconds during which I only heard my own heaving breath and the roaring hum of blood in my veins. The heat started catching up with me and I shivered under the sudden wave of hotness over my whole body.

Then a thunder of clapping broke through the trance, and I looked up to see her eyes. They weren’t as cold anymore, but I wouldn’t dare to guess what she was feeling. She gave me a curt nod and stepped away, swiftly lowering her sword. Almost involuntarily I let go of my own and my glove went with it, hands too wet to stick to them.

I was still trying to catch my breath, the heavy intakes jerking my whole body and all I wished to do was to tear this stupid uniform off and jump into a cold creek, but I was suddenly grabbed by Lord Kim who materialised on stage and dragged me closer to the expectant crowd.

On instinct I started bowing, dragoness in tow even though there wasn’t even an ounce of the usual winner’s joy in her being, and then we were both sent away.

I stumbled over to our side again, wondering if I could maybe be suffering from heatstroke, when two small but very strong hands pulled me into a hug. Hwa-young squealed right into my ear, but I was too sluggish to actually recoil from the sound.

Before I even fully clocked in the situation, she was already pulling away with a huge grin, hand now patting me on the shoulder.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, visibly vibrating in excitement, “It felt like nobody was breathing for the entire time you two fought, the tension was insane!” A single syllable laugh fell out of my tired mouth, a somewhat slanted smile pulling at my lips, before I gestured back inside.

“I need water,” was all that came out of me, very eloquently might I add, and then I steered my shaky knees in the right direction and walked off. With every step I retained a little bit of my previous strength, my body finally acclimatising and slowly pumping the brakes on the excitement and pain.

As I was stepping in, the strangely happy guy from before was just stepping into the ring with his shortsword firmly clutched in his hands and a face full of determination.

Thankfully, no one bothered me while I was inside replenishing my strength, and I re-emerged a few minutes later in a much better shape. The fact that there was one more discipline left already drained me in advance. If I could at least take one layer off, that would make it much better, but it would be improper.

I must have been inside for longer than I thought, because it seemed that two matches have happened in the meantime, with the third now already in motion. The only ones still waiting for theirs was Hwa-young and the peacock with a sabre, both standing next to each other but ostentatiously ignoring the other.

Sitting down in the shade, I watched on. During Hwa-young’s turn I appreciated her form a lot. She was a great fighter, and it was obvious she put her absolute best into the match. Her opponent seemed to be a measured laid-back fighter, and he balanced her energetic offensive very well. When she lost, it was after a good fight and she went down honourably. The dragon even accepted her offered handshake (gloves on, of course, to prevent any skin-to-skin contact and accidentally establish a potential bond) and then they both moved to their respective sides.

The last man stepped in, flaming red hair reflecting the sun and making him almost shine in the middle of the summer garden. Peacock walked up to him and immediately took his stance. Once the whistle was blowed, he flew into an attack within split second, and the match from then on was a wild mess of heavy offensive.

While the dragon seemed to be surprised, like the others he didn’t have much trouble standing his ground and matched the energy given well. As much as I disliked people who valued offensive over anything and expected to win fights just by endlessly swinging their swords around without rhyme or reason, the display of power between the two fighters was quite fascinating to watch.

Their forms were beautiful, and their sabres met with loud clinks, almost hard enough to see sparks flying about. It was a wild flurry of movement, of red and silver flashes and fast footwork that would be hard on even experienced knights.

And that was exactly what got him in the end. The peacock was extremely confident in the first few minutes of the match, but as it dragged on, the dragon refusing to concede and dealing back just as much power, the toll it was taking on the human to keep up started to be visible.

I watched his legs increasingly more stumble and react slower to the attacks and for a brief moment I wondered whether I looked the same when I started losing the fight.

But then he suddenly threw himself at the redhead, sword pushing his to the side and body slamming into him full force. There were a few gasps around in the audience as confusion set in. Aside the fact that this was a sword duel, he definitely couldn’t win against him in a fistfight. And once they got this close, the dragon could really knock him out with a single blow. It was pure insanity.

And I could see the redheaded man preparing to do just that, hand dropping his sabre and body twisting in preparation to take a full swing, when the bastard shot his hand out and grasped around the dragon’s neck.

I was on my feet faster than I could comprehend doing that, dread making my heart stop beating and my stomach to drop all the way down to the ground. His hand was bare, he must have shucked the glove off somewhere during the lunge.

The poor dragon froze under the touch, body going into panic. He tried to twist out of his grasp, and I saw the hand visibly squeeze the flesh tattooed with shackles.

“Kneel!” the human’s booming voice carried over the shocked crowd without a problem, loud enough to even scare off some birds off of the nearby trees.

The redhead locked into place, eyes glazing over and shame seeping out of the very pores of his skin. Then he slowly kneeled, mechanically like he was fighting against his body every step of the way. Once he was on the ground his head hung low, whether it be in humiliation or obedience, and it was a terrible heart-wrenching sight.

The boy let go and then victoriously turned to the audience, smug grin wide on his face, leaving the dragon sitting in the dirt. Then there was an abrupt wave of cheering and clapping, a thunderous sound that swept through the whole garden and Lord Kim was running towards the arena, screaming praises for the only one of us who managed to defeat their dragon.

Shock, disgust and dread kept me frozen in my place, heart squeezing painfully in my chest and lungs constricted. I felt like I was going to be sick, like all that was going to come out of me would be black poisonous sludge from the display we bore witness to.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the lone being shamefully kneeled there, unable to stand up until another command came. A wave of emotions swept through me – rage, compassion, pain – and tears almost sprung into my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

When my eyes swept through the crowd, there wasn’t enough horror in people for this to have taken place. Most were sitting around, pleased and happy and talking about the champion. The dragons looked uncomfortable, eyes avoidant and their postures tense. Hard and frozen.

I saw Hwa-young, her face serious and troubled, lips a thin line as she stared at the man who was happily conversing with a bunch of good-for-nothing lords.

It was hard to compute he did something like that. And even harder to compute that it was allowed, in a friendly duel, against a dragon that wasn’t even his bonded.

Even though people liked to pretend that dragons were here all on the accord of their own free will, pretend like they weren’t forced and enslaved, pretend like they wouldn’t get punished if they didn’t go along with their whims, the shackles still remained a stark reminder of their status.

And while the only person who could directly command them was the emperor, or the dragon’s bonded, anyone could really force the dragon into obedience by grabbing their neck. The shackle was a ‘mark of magic’ (among others) – it showcased the place where the dragon was touched with a curse.

And this curse forced them into obedience to humankind. They couldn’t fight against a human and wish him serious harm, they couldn’t go against the emperor or anyone in the position of power, and they couldn’t not obey direct commands coming to them. The magic in their blood enforced their behaviour and there was nothing they could do about it.

So if you wanted to command a dragon and have him be coerced into listening to you, all you had to do was grab their neck where their shackle was, thus activating the curse.

That redhead wouldn’t be able to stand up until he was similarly commanded to do so, because he couldn’t break the order to kneel. It was absolutely disgusting and barbaric.

The conversation really seemed to have moved on, no one paying attention to him. Peacock left with Lord Kim, along with some other novices. Hwa-young and puppy boy stood frozen by the fence for a moment before they guiltily avoided their eyes and moved towards the fray of festivities too. Not that I could blame them.

I didn’t know anything about his background, but Hwa-young certainly couldn’t make a scene about a dragon given the precarious situation she was in.

At least one thing my stupid fucking surname was good for. Sometimes I could get away with being untouchable (sans the consequences my father would give when I got home, but that was a private affair – what they don’t know… can’t hurt me).

Not being able to take it anymore, I steeled myself and made my way towards the arena displaying much more confidence than I actually felt. Presentation was key, I endlessly told myself, in a voice that suspiciously sounded like my father. Subtly checking my surroundings, it seemed that no one was really paying attention to me yet. Which was good, but it would change quickly.

When I got to him, his shoulders were slumped, head still down and refusing to look up. The dragon probably assumed I’d come to mock him, and it broke my heart a little. Once more looking around to make sure nobody cared what I was doing, I kneeled in front him too.

I heard his little gasp of surprise, but he didn’t move in the slightest.

People considered it to be humiliating to kneel in front of a slave, which is why he probably didn’t see often people drop down to his level instead of commanding him to look up. I cleared my throat somewhat awkwardly.

“Pardon the intrusion,” I mumbled softly, making sure he was the only one who heard me, “Don’t panic, I’m going to touch your neck in a moment, okay?” For a few silent moments I waited for him to nod, and he finally realised that as well when no touch came after my words.

After his confirmation I brough my hand to his shackle gently, trying to be as unintrusive as possible, but no matter how much I tried this would always be a violation of them. I felt the magic come alive under my fingertips, thrumming violently through my blood. It was an ugly kind of magic and it made me sick when it filled my being with its aura.

Swallowing the noise of protest at the sensation, I didn’t want to stress him more, I quickly said: “You can stand, and you’re free of commands.” I saw his shoulders relaxing, and he shivered lightly. I quickly tore my hand away from his skin and stood up again, knees protesting at the swift movement.

I offered him my hand, but he ignored it as he himself stood up. His knees must have been in even worse shape after sitting on the rough ground like that, but he carried himself gracefully, shame persistently seeping in at the edges. When our eyes met, he curtly nodded my way and then swiftly walked off, leaving the gathering behind him.

I couldn’t blame him.

A good half an hour went by before I heard Lord Kim’s voice exclaim: “Oh no! Where did our dragon disappear to?” By then I had already moved closer to the shooting range and watched servants bring out and prepare the six horses that would be involved in the next discipline.

There were some general gasps, people looking around with disappointment painting their faces, but no one spoke out against me. No one looked at me, or even cared that I still sat by the side, leading me to assume that my actions haven’t been noticed, thankfully.

As the commotion slowly quietened, I willed my heart to calm down, body sagging lightly against the stone bench.

While I was looking forward to the last discipline, horseback shooting at moving targets, the atmosphere hung heavy over us after the last match, and it was hard to have any enjoyment from anything taking place. Peacock of course was in great spirits and the two expressionless guys that haven’t said a single word as far as I was concerned didn’t seem to care at all, but we the remaining three all showed different signs of uneasiness, the good mood sapped out of us in the blink of an eye.

We stood in a hushed group, still processing everything, while the others were already claiming horses and preparing their bows.

“I was kind of expecting it and it still caught me off guard that he’d just… go there,” finally Hwa-young broke the silence, looking at me solemnly. I gave her a confused look, tilting my head slightly.

“What do you mean ‘expecting it’?” the question fell out my lips and it drew the attention of the boy.

“The blond one tried to reach for the neck, but got quickly overpowered,” he jumped in to explain, “I thought it was more like a tactic to scare her or psych her out, at the moment it didn’t look like he’d really go for it.” His gaze was pointing to one of those silent two, a tall blond with cold blue eyes.

“Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed, hand flying to me in an offered handshake, “I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Choi Siwoo, of the southeast clan.” I only hesitated for a split second before I took it, attempting a small smile even with my heart still heavy.

I was kind of already beginning to like Hwa, her story and attitude made me trust in her good side a little more, and this guy seemed to be just a ball of sunshine. She evidently got along with him and for the moment I’ve decided to tentatively trust her judgement.

God knows I’d need as many allies on my side as possible and I trusted that Hwa-young of all people wouldn’t have a problem with me based on my clan. Plus both of them most probably had the same opinion as me about the violating display peacock put on.

It was quite sad, but once you found people who actually believed dragons to be real beings with real rights, you’d better hand onto them and not let them go. I myself was painfully aware of how meagre the numbers of those were.

Siwoo’s face brightened with a toothy grin, hand briefly squeezing mine before he pulled back. There was a little bit of relief on his face and I wondered whether he was worried I’d reject his friendship offer. He and Hwa exchanged a short happy look, she nodded a little, and then turned to beam at me. A little snicker escaped my lips at their shenanigans, but I didn’t stick around to see their faces split with wide smiles.

Instead I finally started making my way towards one of the still available horses, choosing a white one with black and brown spots, absentmindedly picking up the bow and quiver with arrows. Once we were all on horseback and ready, Lord Kim once again climbed up to a little platform and with a few pompous words blew the whistle.

I was miles away in my mind, just going with the flow of the horse’s movement. I’ve always loved horses since little, and anytime I found myself on one I usually relaxed very quickly, which combined with my troubled heart and mind had me escaping away from this awful little banquet, my mind carrying me to the green pastures and meadows of our fief.

Thus I ended up missing my first shot, just breezing past the target without even pulling out my bow. A quick shout of my name later I was confusedly looking around only to see Hwa-young’s worried face. She gestured to her bow and I immediately realised I must have not even seen where I was supposed to be shooting.

The discipline went on, and after a few circle arounds I even managed to hit a bullseye, more or less on accident. The crowd gave me some polite applause, but I found myself as shocked as half the people sitting there on that garden.

By the time they finally called us back, I was already prepared to disappear home the next second I could. I was over all this, mentally and physically drained and I hated the audience watching our every move, my skin crawling with every curious or hateful glance.

Of course, we were meant to be socialising more, but I planned to slink off the moment people stopped paying attention to me. Having led the horse back to the stables, I was back in the crowd, slowly making my way inside to grab some more refreshments. I ignored the hum of murmurs around me, mocking my score or whispering about my father.

When someone threw a glare at me, I returned it with a polite smile, the tiredness pulling the attitude back onto the surface. Today had quite enough of diplomatic and courteous encounters, now I was done.

Making it over to the almost empty buffet table, a scowl was already pulling down at my lips, making me look even more unfriendly than usual. When somebody’s presence suddenly made itself known behind me, I was ready to snark at them until they left. They couldn’t even let me eat in peace.

For a few moments I continued to ignore the person, even though I knew they were messing around with something on the table, hoping they weren’t here for me after all, but all those hopes got shattered the moment they walked up straight to me and tapped my shoulder.

I started turning around, a smart retort already about to slip off of my tongue when I came face to face with a broad chest and shoulders, tattoos peeking from his tunic and pierced lips, and it promptly withered and died in my throat. He had tattoos there as well? How did I miss that?

Lightly flustered I quickly snapped my head up, searching for the dragon’s eyes. Jungkook was grinning at me from up above, gaze sparkling just like before. I stumbled a step or two back, putting some more space between us to make the height gap less blaringly obvious. He snickered at me, but stayed put, leisurely leaning with his hip on the table.

“Looked like you were booking it, so I wanted to catch you before you disappear,” the dragon explained with a knowing smile, “just to set some things straight.” A soft questioning noise left my mouth, a mixture of anxiety and confusion hitting me. Sudden fear that he’d come here to let me down gently gripped me and I desperately tried to temper it down, not even recognising myself and the strange behaviour I’d been exhibiting since I accepted his handshake.

Jungkook seemed blissfully oblivious though and kept cooly leaning on the table, completely relaxed in his stance and expression. My calculative gaze slid from his head to his toes, trying to gauge what he’d feel the need to tell me this urgently. Preparing myself for the worst, I invited him to speak with a gesture of my arm.

“I want to reserve your noon three days from now,” the dragon told me, body language still quite laid-back, lulling me into believing that maybe this wasn’t bad news after all, “A personal training, after that we’ll talk.”

Even though I tried to keep my expression in check, I couldn’t eliminate the chance that he heard my heart happily jump in my chest and skip a few beats. The expression on his face was earnest when I lost to myself and checked it just to be sure, but I also noticed a light dusting of a blush over his cheekbones while his fingers tried to detangle his bangs from the little horns coming out of his forehead. With a start I realised that his hair actually wasn’t black, but there was a deep purple metallic sheen to it that gave off little coloured flashes when it was hit by the light right.

He cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, and started shuffling. Immediately I realised I haven’t actually answered to him and instead just stood there staring at him. I couldn’t help the rush of colour to my cheeks and briefly I wondered whether his blush meant he was feeling similar effects of the established connection.

I’d have to research bonds a little, I’d never known it could influence you like this. Wistfully I thought back to the memory of my teacher, the desperate desire to know where he was or that he’d be still here with me manifesting again. He’d tell me everything, answer all of my questions without hesitation.

But before I could get too off track in my thoughts and leave Jungkook even more hanging, I cleared my throat as well. “Does- Does that mean you are interested in pursuing the connection?” I squeaked out, throat a little dry and my flustered state making it hard to speak seriously.

The dragon grinned at me, boyish and free with a hint of mischief, and it did make me thaw a little in face of such a display. It made him look young and on top of the world, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from briefly jumping to his shackled neck with a painful pang to my heart.

“Of course!” he exclaimed loudly, “You seem pretty cool.” I raised my eyebrow at him, but ultimately chose to not answer to that. Taking another step back I let food be food and returned an impish grin of my own.

“Sure then, see you in three days.” Jungkook seemed very satisfied by that answer and without further ado turned around to leave.

I watched him go with my heart quivering in both hope and nerves as I found myself so close to the edge of something great. Of something meaningful. I couldn’t mess it up now.

Of course my father would be beyond overjoyed that I’d managed to catch the attention of Bangtan, as it would catapult me straight to the top. It would cement me as something special from the very beginning, and that was all he ever wanted of us. The emperor would surely allow me to ride him, because I was a Kang and that was all that mattered. I’d finally make myself useful and aide my father in his power-hungry ways.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

No. I wanted to change the world. Change would always have to start at the top.

And I would bring this empire down, once and for all.

With a true genuine smile I also turned on my heel, in a completely different direction, and swiftly left the banquet behind me. It was time to learn how to impress a dragon.

Jungkook was slowly getting fed up with Jimin’s disconcerted looks thrown his way, the older dragon making it well known for the several past hours just how upset he was with the youngest.

“Okay, god, I get it, can you stop staring at me like that?” he grumbled out, flinching at his mate’s disbelieving expression. The smaller man had basically smoke rising from his head with how angry he seemed to be, and that was a feat considering he was a water dragon.

“Excuse me?!” he exclaimed wildly, “So dare you explain to me what the hell was that?!” Something strange and tense settled between them the moment Jungkook offered the Kang girl his hand, and he knew this was long time coming, the blue-haired man very obviously just looking for an opportunity to have a private chat with him.

Jungkook shrugged, and in hindsight, that wasn’t the best reaction judging by the frustrated noise he got from Jimin in answer, but he himself didn’t really know. Honestly, he was just as confused as everyone else, but something just… compelled him?

“I- I don’t know,” he quickly remedied, not wanting to provoke the other dragon even more, “it just felt like the thing to do.” That earned him a frown. Jimin stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his youngest mate with something slightly alarming making itself home in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly, gaze imploring and looking for answers, “Jungkook, this wasn’t just ‘something to do’, you could have made a huge fool out of yourself. Not to mention that you don’t just go around offering handshakes to riders! You skipped several steps of a whole process that’s there for a reason!”

Jungkook shrunk under the barrage of Jimin’s upset words, the inkling need to start defending himself and get upset back wiggling into his bones, but on a rational level he knew his mate was more worried than anything.

“Bonds are fickle things, you don’t simply jump headfirst into it with a complete stranger!” the water dragon continued, determined to let it all out now that they were gone from public and had space to hash it out, “It could have made you sick, it could have felt awful, it could have connected you to a terrible person. It’s not as simple as introducing yourself, bonds are strong and deep and they can influence you. You don’t go around doing that with everyone, you wait until you meet a person that feels right to offer it to!” That was Jungkook’s opening.

“But didn’t you feel it too, hyung?” he whispered, knowing he succeeded in worming some doubt into his hyung’s mind, “It was there even before we touched. That’s what I meant when I said it just felt… right to do. I can’t explain it, I just knew it was meant to happen somehow. And you know how gullible I am to instincts!” He threw in a good pout as well, grabbing onto Jimin’s sleeve and selling the cuteness to the max.

Jimin gave him a chastising look, but it was obvious his resolve was breaking and he was fighting his own smile at the cute display.

“I saw how you reacted, hyung,” Jungkook whispered again, hand sliding down to lock their fingers together, “I know you felt something.”

Both dragons were very well aware that something about this bond was strange, but neither knew how to explain to the other the sensations and feelings that ran through them in that moment they touched. Jimin pursed his lips, not finding the right words and feeling in way over his head.

“Let’s get home, I want to talk to hyungs about it,” he simply murmured and started dragging the other with him through the silent dark streets of the capital city. This part was always dead quiet in the middle of the night, the proximity of the royal palace scaring all nightly activities away into more shady parts. The shadow of the empire just always hung over this district, turning its atmosphere into something rotten and heavy.

It wasn’t far to their town house, the building that they reluctantly used whenever they needed to stay over in the capital as opposed to flying two hours back to their den, and both quickly found themselves enveloped in a much warmer aura of their combined scents. Even this deep into the night there was a hum of activity heard, signalling that the whole thunder was still awake and most likely waiting for their return.

Tae was sitting with Hoseok outside in the tiny yard, but they immediately moved inside the moment they heard the two sets of footsteps. The rest of the mates were all already sitting by the dining table, small refreshments waiting for them while Yoongi peacefully read something, and Namjoon was intensely staring at a couple of glowing rocks.

Seokjin’s head suddenly popped into the room from the adjacent study, warm smile already in place.

“How was Jungkook’s first choosing?” he asked eagerly, quickly padding over to the table and sitting down along with a very interested Tae and a smiling Hoseok. And as shaken as Jungkook and Jimin were from the whole afternoon, they noticed a small strain in their thunder’s expressions as well, deepening the concerned feelings already swirling through their own chests.

“We have to talk,” jumped Jimin straight in without a preamble, choosing the least comforting words anyone could ever say. The other dragons in the room didn’t seem to be very surprised though, only indication of the statement being heard was Jin’s soft sigh and the soft thud of Yoongi closing his book and putting it away.

Five sets of eyes trained on them, waiting for the explanation, and Jungkook helplessly looked towards his hyung to start.

“Jungkook found a potential rider,” Jimin started, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, his own troubled when he finally turned to the others.

“Isn’t that sort of a happy occasion?” Namjoon tested out, but as they all noticed before, the hyungs already seemed to be aware of something happening during the afternoon.

“Well, he just stuck his hand out to her within ten minutes of meeting her,” Jimin suddenly snitched petulantly, leaving Jungkook standing there with his mouth hanging wide open at the betrayal.

“Hyung!” he whined out at the same time as Jin’s horrified “Jungkook!” floated through the room.

“It felt right!” he shouted frustrated, feeling like he’s been endlessly repeating himself forever now and everyone just ignored that and focused on the more blaring fact of him completely disregarding age-old rules and making his potential bond into a public spectacle.

But despite his expectations, Jimin didn’t protest, or even got into a needless fight with him about it. Instead, he looked towards the older dragons, unsure and nervous. All of them were suddenly shifting in their seats, drawn closer by Jimin’s obvious distress and ready to jump in and comfort him at the drop of the hat.

“That’s the thing,” the water dragon whispered, “it did. I felt it too.” Silence set over the room. The rug’s been suddenly pulled from under his feet as he thought back to the moment, to the lighting of pure energy zapping through his entire being, feeling as if his fingers were about to burst into flames. To the moment he finally tore his eyes from Y/N and saw his hyung’s horror and shock, immediately pulling him close to whisper if he was okay as Jungkook just stared and tried to comprehend what happened.

It explained a lot.

“What?” was what came out of his mouth though, “You felt the bond through me?” The man in question silently nodded, opening his mouth and considering whether he should speak more. In the end he sighed and resigned himself to this conversation fully.

“Yeah, I felt it through our bond,” Jimin explained closely, “It was strong enough that even I felt the power of it. It’s never happened to me before. I’d never felt any of your bondings, let alone the first contact.” The troubled expression on the faces of the other dragons doubled and the two finally noticed it.

“Do you know what that means?” the question was aimed towards Yoongi and Namjoon who had arguably the most knowledge on most things, and if they didn’t know it currently, they definitely had a book detailing it, but everyone at the table shifted uncomfortably. Jungkook started having the sense of what must have happened.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he whispered, the disbelief creeping into his tired voice. There was a beat of silence, a slight hesitation and then Yoongi nodded.

“Yes, but it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as what you said,” the black-haired man explained, voice soothing to attempt and calm the rising emotions, “it was more like an echo of what you two were experiencing.”

For a moment they all just let that information sink in, exchanging nervous glances. Hoseok released a long deep breath, drawing the attention to himself.

“So Jungkookie felt a pull towards someone, immediately went ahead and established a connection and everyone felt an amount of an echo of it through the bond,” he summarised, gesturing towards the two solemn bookworms sitting at the head of the table, “and I’m assuming you’ve also never heard of anything like that happening.”

Both of them shook their head at the same time, and their synchronisation would have been adorable if it wasn’t for the heavy atmosphere in the room.

“What do we do then?” Tae broke the silence tentatively, looking around everyone with his deep soothing eyes.

“Well,” Seokjin sighed again, slapping one hand on the table and startling poor Yoongi that was up to that point lost in thought sitting next to him, “We keep an eye on the bond. Jungkook, you just go about it as normally as possible. Jimin, you tag along with him and observe. Yoongi, Namjoon, please tell me you know where to dig up information about this?” Namjoon hummed thoughtfully, golden eyes glazing over in the same way they always did when he started mentally going through the never-ending catalogue of books they’ve managed amass in their hoard over the centuries.

“I’m certain we have a whole section of the library about bonds, it is a very researched subject, but I don’t remember ever encountering a mention of this,” he said finally, determination setting into his shoulders along with excitement to tackle something that was potentially unknown to them. Even though he’d prefer if this completely new phenomenon happened to someone else and not to his own packmate so he could study it in peace and not worry about them all the time.

Yoongi suddenly stood up, back cracking from being slouched over the table for god knows how long, and he started slowly making his way for his usual travel backpack.

“We have to go back to the den to go through all that though, are you all going to be okay here?” he said, face turning a little softer when he threw a look at his thunder. He was always worrying about them, and they all threw him fond looks back, bringing a slight reddish tint to the top of his ears.

“Of course, the universe won’t fall apart if you’re not here all the time, Yoongi,” Jin sassed him back, but making sure to throw him a little wink in teasing. The black-haired dragon smirked. “You don’t know that,” he rumbled back and then he was swiftly walking out onto the street, leaving Namjoon to scramble out behind him, shouting some apologetic goodbyes as he ran after his hyung.

As the situation settled a little bit and the remaining five sat around the table and played with the prepared food, there was still tension hanging over them. Jungkook especially was lost in thought, wondering about what this meant for him and his fate, and the fate of his mates.

He’d never had a bonded before, he was so far out of his zone here, and it made him nervous that his all-powerful, all-knowing hyungs seemed to be just as surprised by the situation.

His thoughts inevitably carried him to the image of his potential bond, to the expressive eyes screaming out even through the carefully crafted mask of indifference, to the memory of her fighting in the ring. To her kneeling for a dragon and whispering to him softly to make him more comfortable.

He knew Jimin didn’t catch that, too busy being lost in thought and upset about Jungkook’s blunder, and it felt wrong bringing something like that up, but it helped him feel that this person was right to bond with. Jungkook has always been close to his instincts, and currently they were telling him this was where they were supposed to be.

His thunder would disagree, they would scold him and call him too naïve, but against the better judgement of his hyungs, he already felt the beginnings of trust establishing between him and who he hoped would be his rider by the end of the week.

He knew he would go along with this, he only had to persuade the others to believe in him and his instincts too.

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What the Gods Gave Us

fancast!benji blackwood x targ!fem!reader

apocalypse asoiaf/f&b au 

Summary: The Gods chose their own side during the dance of the dragons and decided to cast the realm into winter and death. Only three dragons remain alive to see the fruition of Aegon the Conquers dream. 

Warnings: 18+ mentions of death, death, swearing, blood, fingering, p in v, heavy au, plot heavy

Authors Note: a request from @chainsawsangel that I absolutely got carried away with :) in reality I should’ve made this multiple parts but fuck that we gots to see it thru

Word Count: 9k just be chill about it 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

When the dance began the Gods looked down upon us and frowned. They cast the world into winter and allowed death to come from above the wall. No one was spared from what broke down the barrier in the north and came flooding through. It didn’t happen slowly. In under a week the entire realm was cast in snow and bitter winds. Sicknesses wiped out entire houses. Noble and low born families alike were torn apart and scattered across the wastelands that used to once be the great seven kingdoms of Westeros. 

Winter took our entire family and most of our dragons. The only remaining Targaryens in this world are me and my two brothers. When the snow started sticking our mother sent us and our dragons to hide within the crumbling walls of Harrenhal. The only place that seems to be untouched from decay here is the weirwood. Its eyes follow us as we walk across the grounds as it pours buckets of blood from its eyes. There’s an old kind of magic about this fallen castle that deters the white walkers from entering. 

The only other living creature here is Alys Rivers who only speaks in riddles and hides herself away in her chambers with her potions and ramblings. We try to avoid her but we’ve made her an honorary member of our family. She cooks and cares for us and we offer her protection and go out and get supplies. Today’s supply run has us traveling to Ironmans bay. She’s seeking a specific plant that only grows on the coast of the Iron Islands. 

“Why must I stay here with her?” Luke whines pleading with me and Jace to come with.

“You are young and so is your dragon. We’re not risking it. Taking two dragons out is as big of a calling card that we can deal with.” Jaces voice does not falter as he orders Luke to stay. 

“Mother said we’re supposed to stick together.” Luke looks between the both of us with sad eyes. 

“We always come back.” I cup his cheek hoping to offer him comfort.

“Please come back.” Luke’s eyes water as he pulls us into a hug. 

It’s never my want to leave him behind but I would much rather have him here than out there with us. Jace and I cover ourselves with white fur and leave the main hall. Our dragons chuff to us as we mount and take to the skies. We always fly in the clouds if we’re able. We don’t want to announce our moves during these trying times. We fly over countless pyres. I’m thankful our word got out that the one way to kill these things is fire and we have the biggest weapon against them. 

The flight to the coast is quick and freezing. We land on the shores and pull out a rough drawing of the plant that Alys gave us. Jace curses under his breath and kicks the snow away. It took a lot of convincing on my end for him not to kill or kick Alys out of Harrenhal when we first arrived. He’s been so angry at the world and I get it. I’m living in this frozen hell with him and I’m slowly losing hope as the moons pass. 

“I don’t care about her stupid fucking plants. We could be using our time differently.” he crosses his arms standing next to Vermax. 

“Using our time to do what Jace? What else could we possibly be doing? If you want to go sulk around that crumbling castle then go.” my voice rises with my anger. 

His breath clouds in front of him as he sighs and begins to look for the plants we’re here for. I hear a groan of string and wood and fall to the ground as I hear the arrow coast through the breeze. I turn and see Jace rising from the ground unsheathing his sword. I turn and see a handful of men running towards us and another bursts out from the tree line and starts cutting them down one by one. Jace and I look to each other before we turn back to the man who was so ready to lay his life down for us. 

“That’s close enough.” Jace raises his blade to the man walking towards us who stops and falls to one knee. 

“I swore fealty to your mother and that extends to her children as well. My sword is yours.” he bows his head and I turn to Jace. 

“What do we need your fealty for? What do you think we’re ruling over? Death and decay?” the man’s head pulls up as he looks beyond as at our dragons. 

“If anyone could bring the realm back together it would be the dragons. It was word from your mouths that fire will kill them no?” he rises to his full height. 

“What is it that you want?” Jaces voice calls over to him. 

“Shelter and safety. These Bracken cunts slaughtered the last of my men. I’ve been hunting them down for days now.” he turns to them and lets sparks rain upon them as their bodies go up in flame.

“And what is your name?” I raise my chin looking him over. 

“Benjicot Blackwood.” he bows his head once more. 

“What is it that you can offer us if we take you with us?” I ask assessing him. 

“I have no dragon or dragon flame but I have a sword and flint and they offer the same results.” he holds his sword out with both hands offering it to us. 

“I say we burn him and leave.” Jace says from my side and my eyes bulge. 

“Why would we do that? He’s just one person. Surely we can use his hands and sword.” I try to reason with him. 

“I’m sure you would like to use his sword.” he sneers at me and it takes all my strength not to punch him in the face. 

“I will cut your tongue out if you speak to me like that again.” I hiss back to him. 

“If you want him then search him and see if your dragon will allow him to ride back with you. I’m not dealing with this.” he waves me off and walks back to his dragon. 

“Alright, let’s go.” I nod my head for Benjicot to come to me. “I will search your pack and person and then we will see if my dragon will allow you to ride him and then we’ll go back to where we stay.” I hold out my hand expectantly. 

“Where is it that you stay?” he hands me his pack and my hands stop searching as I see the plants Alys is looking for. 

“What are you doing with these plants?” I look to him with scrunched brows. 

“They help staunch the never ending hunger.” he tilts his head. 

“Very well, do you have anything on your person that I need to be concerned about?” I close the bag and toss it back to him. 

“You can come let your hands roam all over me and find out for yourself.” he smirks unabashed. “The only thing you might find concerning is how much you enjoy it.” I gasp at his words as a laugh falls from my lips. 

“You are very bold.” I offer him a smile of my own as I feel my body heat. “Let’s see if you get to come home with me or become a meal for my dragon.” I hum and he chuckles lowly walking to my side. 

My dragon looks over him licking his teeth. I don’t know if it’s boldness or lack of care for his life but he walks up to my dragon and holds his hands out. My dragon seems as taken aback as I am and looks to me and huffs. I shrug my shoulders and walk past Benjicot to his wing. 

“Well are you coming, Benjicot?” I turn raising my eyebrow to him. 

“You can call me Benji.” he smiles walking to my side with confidence in his step. 

Vermax and Jace shoot to the skies and we’re close behind them. Benji holds onto my sides tightly and I welcome in the extra warmth. The chill goes to the bone once the sun begins to set and I’m thankful for our quick flight back to our crumbling fortress. Benji slides down after me and Jace scoffs before strutting into the main doors. 

“You’ve found the plants.” she looks to Benji and I look to her confused but not surprised that she knew of Benji from all her self proclaimed premonitions that I’m starting to believe more of everyday.

“This is-“ 

“Benjicot.” Alys nods her head taking his pack and disappearing with it leaving us confused. 

“She’s an interesting woman.” Benji says chuckling. 

“Who is this?” Luke bounds down the stairs and looks to Benji.

“Benji Blackwood. We found him wandering.” I offer. 

“Jace isn’t happy.” Luke says looking to me. 

“I’m well aware.” I roll my eyes and turn to Benji. “Come let’s find you a room.” he trails after me as we walk deeper into the castle. 

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It has been just over a moon since we brought Benji back and Jace hasn’t gotten anymore welcoming. Luke on the other hand has taken a liking to him and it warms my heart to see Luke smile and laugh again. I want this for Jace but I don’t think he wants it for himself and that’s why he closes in on himself. I keep wanting to talk to Jace about Benjis words to us when we first met him. How us and our dragons could bring the realm back together. I talk about this a lot with Benji and he’s told me that there are survivors out there who believe this as well. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop and even have entertained the idea with Alys. 

“What do you propose?” Alys hums as I sit at the stone table while she’s crushing plants. 

“I don’t know. Something. We can’t possibly live like this forever. There has to be something we can do.” I try to search her eyes for any clue of to what she’s thinking. 

“The Gods are angry.” she offers me an unsettling smile. 

“They’ve taken it out on the realm what else is there left for them to take?” I ask exasperated. 

“They can take anything they please.” she hums moving around the table. 

“There has to be something we can do to change the tides. Are we not of the line that is supposed to end this war? Is the song of ice and fire truly just a tale?” I nibble on my bottom lip and she turns quickly to me. 

“So you know?” she raises an eyebrow. 

“Of the dream, yes, but what are we to do? There’s only three of us.” I sigh rubbing my forehead. 

“Return to Dragonstone and retrieve the glass.” her words ominous. 

“What glass?” I ask tilting my head. 

“Beneath the castle. You’ll know it when you find it.” she waves me off. “Bring both of your brothers and Benjicot.” she adds as I exit. 

As I walk up the stairs to find them my mind races with the confirmation Alys just gave me. I know Jace is going to scold me but I truly believe this with my being. I find Jace and Luke lounging in front of the great hearth. Benji is sat on the other side of the room near the window gazing out. I call Benji over near the fire and begin to tell them of my conversation with Alys and what we must do.

“You’re just as mad as her if you think I’m coming with you.” Jace scoffs at me.

“This is our chance to try and set things right. We’re the last dragons. Mother told us of the song of ice and fire and you want to ignore that? Winter is here. She chose you as her heir for a reason. Start acting like it.” I rise along with my temper. 

“You think a story will save us now?” he tosses his head back and laughs. 

“There’s no harm in trying, we either sit here and starve to death or try to do something. We can find the other survivors, unite the realm once more. We can kill these things, brother. We can set the realm back to how it was supposed to be, together, as a family.” I plead with him trying to show him reason. 

“Do you include your stray in our family now?” he shoots Benji a dirty look. 

“My stray has a name and he has been nothing but kind to you. Why do you despise him so much?” I shake my head at his ridiculousness. 

“Because he feeds your obsession about saving the realm when it’s already a frozen wasteland beyond repair.” Jace turns to Luke for support who avoids his eyes. “Oh you believe this too?” he chuckles to himself at a loss.

“What harm will it cause to go home for one day. Remember what used to be, what could be again.” Luke speaks softly. 

“One day.” Jace says looking to me. 

“Just one.” I nod my head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The stone walls have never felt more cold than they do now in this abandoned castle. The wind seems to whisper as we pass through the empty halls sharing the story of our downfall. This once great castle brimming with life and happiness now offers us a cold embrace. Our dragons rumble beneath the floors from the pits and I allow myself to remember how lively these halls once were. Our home taken by fate.

“I’m going to my chambers. Let me know when you’ve found what you’re looking for so we can get off this freezing rock.” Jace bounds up the stairs out of sight. 

“Go after him.” I nod to Luke not wanting Jace to feel so alone and unheard. I sigh pulling my furs around me. Benji walks over to me and rubs his hands on my arms trying to warm me up some.

“Do you think I sound crazy, Benji?” I look to him with furrowed brows.

“We walk alongside death, Princess. I don’t think there’s anything crazy about wanting for something better.” he offers me a reassuring smile. 

“Then we must go to the pits.” I turn walking to the stairs. 

I hear him a step behind me and smile. Benji stops to light a torch for us and we enter the dark cave. I get us quickly to the bottom and we start through the small tunnels. I plunge us deeper as the air gets cooler. The torch catches on an opening showing us something dark and glossy. A smile spreads across my face as I take in the shimmering rock. 

“Dragon glass.” I turn to Benji. 

“How much does she want?” he asks looking at the massive trove in front of us.

“I’m assuming as much as us our dragons can carry.” I crane my neck to see the extent of the obsidian walls. 

“Do you think Jace will carry some?” he asks my thoughts out loud.

“I will make him. I believe in this and him. He is King even if he doesn’t speak it.” my voice hushed. “Do you think if he calls the survivors will answer?” I look to him as he looks at me with admiration. 

“Who would be bold enough not to answer the dragons call?” he chuckles. “I believe in what you say. You are a good sister, a good person, to keep faith in him when he doesn’t even have it for himself.” his words have me thanking Alys  for sending me to find those plants. 

“Thank you, Benji.” my voice barely a whisper as I look to him. 

“You are strong and resilient and any smart man knows there’s always a woman holding the realm together.” his words cause a welcome warmth to my cheeks. 

“I fear the realm has fallen apart.” I look away.

“You didn’t set that in motion. You are helping reclaim and rebuild. You will never have to carry that weight alone as long as I breathe.” my eyes see the sincerity across his features. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I cup his cheek before leading us out of the caves once more to find my brothers. 

They both groan at diving into the pits with me and Benji but follow nonetheless. Their eyes alight with wonder as they look around the obsidian cave. Jace places a hand on one of the rocks jutting from the ground and a warm breeze comes from deep within the ground. Just as quick as the warmth spreads it is replaced with ice. 

“What is it you want me to do?” Jace turns to me. 

“We need to mine as much of this as we can and bring it back with us.” I search Jaces face to see his mood. 

“This seems as if it will take more than the day I was promised.” Jace sighs. 

“We can figure it out. We can get you and Vermax loaded up first and you can go back to Harrenhal tonight if you want.” my eyes pleading. 

“I can stay and help.” a smile starts to spread across my face. “Don’t get too excited.” he glares at me and I have to bite my lip from smiling even wider. 

“Let’s go find some tools and start moving this out of the caves.” I nod my head leading us to the armory. 

As I push the doors to the armory open the castle seems to let out a breath it was holding since before this never ending winter. We all walk in and look around to find tools and carts. On the center table I spot two swords and a dagger with a parchment containing our mother’s handwriting. I call Jace and Luke over as we read her last words to us. 

My sweet children- 

Should you find this letter and our family blades it means you know what must be done now. My father always believed the song of ice and fire to be true and now I see that it is. The realms fate is left to you three. Jacaerys, I leave you Catspaw, the blade passed down to heirs over the years. Luke, my sweet boy, I leave you Blackfyre, do not allow anyone to underestimate you. Y/n, I leave you Dark Sister, that has been wielded by the strongest of us. Get the dragon glass and call the realm together. I’m sorry I’ve left this burden on you three. I love you, you were always the best of me.

-Mother

We look to each other with tear filled eyes and hold on to one another tightly. We sniffle and settle our breathing before nodding to one another. As we all grab for the blades we feel another warm breeze kiss across our faces. We turn and see Benji staring at us in awe. He shakes his head at a loss and falls to his knee. 

“The remaining dragons shall save us and cast the winter out of the realm.” he bows his head to us. 

“Rise, Benji. We have work to do.” Jace nods his head and I try to hide my smile that he called Benji by his name for the first time. 

We begin to pick up axes and shovels and toss them into carts. We make our way back down to the caves with a new sense of purpose. The next couple of hours are filled with grunts and curses at the hard rock. We take turns carting it to our dragons who look at us curiously as they curl up together. The energy we’re exuding actually has us hot for once and we take a break to walk the grounds. We end up standing in front of the weirwood as it stares back at us. The blood tears seem to still be ever flowing but less than what we’ve seen at Harrenhal. 

We decide to rest for the night and go about sourcing wood for a fire. After splitting up the frozen soup Alys sent us with we heat it over a fire in the main hall. We eat silently and quickly ready to sleep and start tomorrow anew. We each grab some wood and part ways and head for our chambers. As I’m making my way to my chambers I notice Benji is still trailing after me. 

“Where are you going?” I turn and raise an eyebrow to him. 

“To your chambers?” he tilts his head as if it was obvious. 

“I don’t remember inviting you.” I chuckle shaking my head. 

“It’s cold. We should share a bed. It’s the smart thing to do.” the smile that spreads across his face is serpentine. 

“Where is this concern when we’re at Harrenhal?” I smile before continuing down the hall to my chambers. 

“Are you asking me to move into your chambers with you?” he purrs quickening his pace to walk at my side. 

“We’ll see how tonight goes.” I hum as I push my chamber doors open and sigh at the familiar sight. 

“If there’s anything you need or want of me don’t hesitate to ask.” he says lowly before going to the stone hearth and starting a fire.

“Let’s move the mattress next to the hearth.” I toss the wood on the floor along with my bags. 

“Mm, how romantic.” he rises from the hearth and looks down to me. 

“It’s so we can be warmer.” I glare up at him. 

“I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry.” he strokes the side of my cheek before stepping around me and walking to the bed. I turn to him with red cheeks and cross my arms. “Stop pouting and come help me.” he chuckles. 

I flare my nostrils and walk over to my bed. I push my blankets and furs to the center and grab the edge of the bed to lift it. Benji lifts his side and we drop it on the ground a couple feet back from the hearth. I turn and look around my chambers taking them in. I never thought I would see these walls again. I pull Dark Sister from its sheath and place it on the table and look upon it. 

“A powerful weapon for a powerful woman.” Benji comes from behind me and looks over my shoulder. 

“I hope I’m not sending us all to our doom.” I whisper turning to him. 

“If you are, I will gladly stand by your side.” his voice doesn’t carry its usual playful demeanor. 

“Do you think we can do it?” I search his eyes. 

“I do.” he nods his head. “It will be hard but we’ve endured this far.” we slowly begin to lean into each other’s body heat. 

“Thank you for believing in me and not thinking I’m crazy.” I look up to him as our chests are almost touching. 

“I never said I didn’t think you were crazy, I said your idea wasn’t crazy.” a smile splits across his face and I push him back. 

“You’re such an asshole, you can-“ 

He pulls me into a rough kiss and I completely forget why I was angry. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and my arms wrap around his back holding him to me. One of his hands tangles into my hair holding my lips against his. His other hand holds my lower back molding me to him. We stay tangled in each other until we both pull back panting. 

“What were you saying?” he says lowly with his smirk back on his face. 

“Now I’m saying you’re an arrogant asshole and you can find somewhere else to sleep.” I glare up to him before looking at his lips and he chuckles catching the movement. 

“Want to try again and sound like you mean it?” his words taunting me. 

“Benji,” I warn huffing. 

“Hm?” he licks his lips and I roll my eyes at him brushing past him to the mattress. 

His hand reaches out and grabs my arm. He turns me towards him. I look up to him expectantly waiting for him to say or do something. I relent and start to reach up to capture his lips once more, over his games and he tips his head up making me chase his lips out of my reach. 

“I didn’t take you as such a tease. Or maybe you can’t get it hard?” I try to pull my arm out of his grasp but he just tightens his fingers. 

When he captures my lips this time it’s bruising and takes my breath away. His hands begin to pull off my clothes. When his rough hands meet my flesh I gasp into his mouth. I start to push off his clothes and he helps quicken the process. When our skin presses together I sigh at the warmth. We don’t separate as we fall to the mattress in a clash of tongues and teeth. He kisses down my jaw and I arch up into him gasping as I feel his hardened length slide against my wetness. 

“Benji,” I mewl as he rubs against my bud. 

“Hush,” he says before pushing into me. 

My breath catches at the stretch of him. He chuckles looking at my scrunched brows as I squirm beneath him. He slowly starts to rock into me until my moans become broken. His hips snap into mine and I feel my pleasure begin to coil. As he wraps my legs around his waist he starts a brutal pace. I throw my head back into the pillow as my hips meet his. I come undone around him and he grunts but keeps his pace. 

“Is my cock hard enough for you, Princess?” he dips down to whisper in my ear as he continues to rut into me. 

“Yes, Benji please,” I cry out feeling my high quickly approaching again. 

Our breaths come out in pants as we chase our highs. He rolls his hips into me and I whimper as he brushes against my sensitive bud. His trusts begin to falter as I start to pulse around him. He stills as I feel his warmth fill me. He brings his lips to mine as we still try to catch our breath. He rolls off of me placing one more kiss on my forehead. He pulls the furs over us and pulls me to his chest. 

“Do you still think I’m an asshole?” I roll my eyes and turn over putting my back to him. 

“I must’ve not fucked you hard enough if you’re still pouting.” he pulls me back to his chest. 

“I’m limited on options.” as the words leave my mouth his hand lands on my backside hard making me jolt into him. 

“Go to bed before I decide you don’t need any sleep.” his voice low as we hold each other tightly to ward off the cold.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Over the past three days we’ve been able to collect as much dragon glass as our dragons can carry. I’m thankful to finally get back to Harrenhal because we’re low on food and supplies. As we make our way to our dragons my brother and I look back at our home. None of us are brave enough to say goodbye or even to express hope to return again someday. We know the path ahead now is victory or peril. 

The flight back to Harrenhal feels as if it takes forever. Once we land Alys sweeps out through the main gates and looks us all over. She assesses the dragon glass and nods in approval at the amount we got. She ushers us inside and pours us tea and hot soup. 

“I’ve begun sending word around the realm that their King calls for them.” she says this as if it’s just another daily task. 

“Alys,” Jace sighs. “What was the message? We should’ve planned this together.” he shakes his head. 

“This has been planned long before you were born, boy. I’ve been waiting for you to stop throwing your tantrums to start moving the plans into place.” Alys turns to him with a motherly tone. 

“And where are you calling these survivors to rally?” Jace sets his spoon down completely abandoning his soup. 

“Winterfell, of course.” Alys tosses over her shoulder before returning to her poultices.

“Are there any survivors that far north?” Luke asks shaking his head.

“The one who carries Ice still lives.” she doesn’t even deign to turn around.

“How is it that you know all this? The ravens don’t carry messages anymore.” I ask my eyes boring into her back.

“There’s another raven that still carries messages if you know how to listen. The trees whisper too, I’m surprised you haven’t heard them.” she hums absentmindedly. 

“I need proof that there is reason for us to pack up and go north. The winds are surely deadly that far up.” Jace takes a sip of tea.

“Then follow me.” Alys’ skirts swish out of the hall and we all get up and trail after her. She takes us out to the Godswood and we stand in front of the crying weirwood. “Do any other of you have a lack of faith in the song of ice and fire?” she turns and assesses us. 

I turn to look at Luke and Benji and they both seem contented that the song is absolute certainty. We all turn to Jace who has a pout back on his face still not convinced. Alys smiles and gestures for him to come closer. She reaches for his hand and he reluctantly gives it to her. When she places his hand on the tree it feels as if the sun is shining on us for the first time in moons. When I look up I still see the same overcast sky and sigh.

Jace has gone completely still as the blood flows over his hands. His eyes are watering as his features go blank. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain but I’m still concerned for him nonetheless. I go to rest my hand on him and Alys stops me. 

“Do not interrupt this. He’ll be fine.” she whispers and I step back to Benji and Luke. 

Luke clings to me as we wait for Jace to come back to the present. The minutes drag on for what feels like hours. Benji comes to my other side and rests his head on my shoulder and I drink in his warmth. We huddle together and our spines straighten as Jace inhales deeply.

“It’s true.” he turns to us with tears streaming down his face as he pulls us into a hug. 

“What happened?” I pull back so I can assess him.

“I saw.” his voice still far off. “I saw everything.” he pulls Catspaw from his belt and holds it between us. 

“To Winterfell?” I search his eyes.

“To Winterfell.” Jace nods and walks past us back into the crumbling castle with a new found sense of purpose.

“What of you, Alys?” I turn to her and she smiles. 

“I will be there should you need me.” she hums walking past us into the castle after Jace.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

We stop every night on the way to Winterfell. Our dragons can only handle the chill for so long. We have them scorch the lands around us encircling us in a wall of flame. We are hoping to see some of the survivors Alys has talked about but the road has been silent. We curl up on the frozen ground clinging to one another for warmth. Sleep only offers us a reprieve for a couple of hours before we’re back in the wind. 

“How much longer?” Luke whines as he hugs onto Arrax. 

“If we push through we could make it a couple hours after moonrise.” Jace hums trying to see how we feel. 

“We can load up on furs. If Arrax can support him I’ll send Benji with you to help keep the chill off.” I nod trying to get us to Winterfell as soon as possible. I don’t know if we can survive another night outside in these temperatures, no matter how much fire our dragons supply. 

“You don’t have to baby me, Y/n.” Luke groans rolling his eyes at me. 

“You are a baby, Luke.” Jace laughs and I look to him with a smile of my own. I haven’t heard his genuine laugh in so long.

We decide on giving Luke as many of our furs that he could wear and still see. Arrax didn’t take too kindly to Benji and we didn’t want to stress anyone out. I give him more furs than Jace because I’ll have Benji behind me to help retain my heat. We mount the dragons and push forward to Winterfell. 

As the sun sets behind the clouds the temperature drops almost instantly. My muscles tense as I lean back into Benji. He opens his jacket and pulls me against his chest. He buries his head into my neck and I feel my body heat as his hair tickles me. He offers soft kisses to my neck that help distract me as the wind bites. 

As the hours drag by my body begins to shake trying to make its own heat. I look worriedly to my brothers who are probably in the same state and they don’t have someone to offer them extra warmth. I bury my head in my hands trying to regain feeling on my cheeks and nose. 

“We’re about an hour out. Once we’re in our chambers I’ll make sure you’re so hot you’ll be begging to go roll in the snow.” his words brush my ears and my entire body heats. I lean back appreciatively and excited about the warmth he’s offering. 

I fill my mind with thoughts of the man behind me and soon the blush on my face is heating my extremities. His arms wrap tighter around me as if he’s doing the same thing. Our bodies mend together pulling heat from one another. The walls of Winterfell finally come into view and I let out a choked sob. I see there are torches lit and it looks as if the integrity of this castle has still remained intact. Our dragons land inside the gates and burn the ground before us and I sigh in relief at the warmth as it licks at us.

“Welcome back, Your Grace.” a northern man with a large sword down his back approaches us.

“Lord Stark.” Jace nods his head before they laugh and hug each other.

“I’mglad that you guys are reunited but I would like to be reunited with warmth.” I say with a bite in my voice as Benji laughs next to me.

“Of course,” Cregan nods his head and we enter the warm halls quickly. 

“How is this the warmest place we’ve been in moons?” I sigh bringing my hands to the fire. 

“It was built to withstand the winter. After all, it’s always winter up here, Princess.” Cregan smiles to me. “We also have hot springs that should help you defrost and if that doesn’t help I’m sure we could find another way.” he chuckles as my red cheeks and Benji comes up to my side promptly. 

“We would love to try the hot springs.” Benji smiles to Cregan before wrapping his arm around me. Cregan brushes this off and walks back over to Jace and Luke. He leads us to the guest chambers. Benji tells him that he’s sharing with me and I roll my eyes at his dramatics. 

“Then I guess I won’t offer you a place in my chambers.” Cregan leans down and whispers into my ear. As he pulls back my cheeks are tinted and Benji is fuming next to me. “Someone will be up here shortly to bring you to the hot springs.” he smirks at me before shutting the door.

“Are you serious?” Benji turns me towards him.

“What?” I tilt my head still flushed from Cregans words.

“You’re lucky I didn’t take you in front of him.” he growls pulling me to him. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he starts pulling my furs off. “It was harmless.” he starts to pull off my shirt and I bite my lip as his hands find my skin.

“Harmless? He all but asked you to fuck in front of me.” he says through his teeth as he lifts my shirt off. 

“He did not.” I say hushed as his hands slide up my bare skin.

“What did he say that had you blushing?” he fingers brush against my nipples and a whimper falls from my mouth.

“He said,” I gasp as he pinches one of my nipples. “He said he was going to offer me a place in his chambers.” my hands rest on his arms as he continues to fondle across my chest.

“Is that what you want?” I shake my head at his words. “Tell me whose bed you want to be in.” his voice low as his hand dips beneath my waistband. 

“Benji,” I cling to him as his fingers spread my wetness. 

“Go find a robe.” I whine as he removes his hand. “Someone should be here to bring us to the hot springs soon.” he leaves me squeezing my thighs together. 

I huff and walk over to the wardrobe hoping there was something left. I sigh thankful that there are some robes left over. I slide my trousers down my legs and quickly wrap myself in the robe. I turn and toss Benji a robe and try not to let my eyes linger on his exposed torso. He starts to unlace his trousers and I look to him with low lids as he chuckles at me. He slides them off and I squeeze my thighs once more taking in the length of him. There’s a knock on the door and Benji is quickly slipping the robe on and walking to the door. 

“It seems as if I’m the only one left awake to take you both.” Cregan takes up our doorway and I internally groan. 

“Mm, of course.” Benji exhales grabbing my hand and pulling me to his side. 

The walk through the castle is silent and I can feel Benjis frustration pouring off of him. I squeeze his hand to try and get him to focus on anything else but he keeps his eyes focused on Cregans back. We start down a stone staircase and as we enter the cavern I sigh as the warm air kisses my face. I see that there’s more than enough space for the three of us to be here comfortably. I walk past them both and begin to dip into the water. Once my bottom half is in the water I slip off my robe and sink beneath and let out a breathy moan. 

I close my eyes as I let the hot water soothe my muscles. I sink lower into the water and I feel it ripple next to me. I peek an eye open and see that Benji has claimed a seat next to me. The water shifts again and I see that Cregan has also gotten in. I sit back up and feel the tension in the water and roll my eyes. Benjis hand falls to my thigh and my head snaps to him. 

“So are you guys together?” Cregans voice carries across the stone walls and I groan knowing this will set Benji off.

“Yes.” he says as his fingers grip on my thigh spreading them open. 

“Mm, how long?” Cregan looks to me as Benjis fingers slide to my core.

“Couple moons now.” I try to keep my voice steady as he swirls around my bud. 

“Where did you find her?” Cregan shifts to Benji and I’ve never been more thankful as he dips a finger into me. 

“Near the Iron Islands. I saved her and Jace from some Bracken beasts.” Benji narrows his eyes at Cregan as he pushes a second finger into me and a moan slips out. I try to cover it by clearing my throat but I can tell Cregan caught it. 

“Do you both need some privacy?” Cregan chuckles at my red cheeks and Benji keeps pushing his fingers into me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Benji uses a patronizing tone. “She’s been begging for my cock since we started the journey here.” he chuckles and I snap my head to him ready to scold him until his thumb rubs against my bud and I’m hoping that Cregan will leave soon because I can’t contain the whimpers leaving my lips. 

“Treat her well. Or I will.” Cregan chuckles again before standing out of the water unabashed. Benji starts moving his fingers faster and I try to close my legs around his hand. 

“Benji.” I mewl as he continues with his motions.

“She’s content here.” Benji chuckles waving Cregan off. 

“Are you done now?” I pant at Benji.

“Not even close.” he growls as he flips me so my chest is against the cool stone. “Gunna fuck you here because I know he’s listening on the stairs.” he breathes into my neck as he lifts my hips.

“You sound paranoid.” I turn to look at his dark eyes as I spread my legs open for him. 

“I don’t care.” he pushes into me in one movement and I rest my cheek against the stone. 

Moans begin pouring from my lips as the water laps against us. His pace is quick and I have no hope of covering the curses and whines that fall from my mouth. The second his fingers brush against my bud my body goes taught. He continues to push into me as my high spreads through me. My hips push back into his as I continue to chase more pleasure.

“You like when I fuck you like a common whore?” he pulls me up against him and wraps his fingers around my neck.

“Fuck, Benji, please,” I whine as my chest heaves. 

The hand that he has supporting my waist goes to my bud and I contract around him as my pleasure washes through me. I feel his thrusts get sloppy as he begins to fill me. He slips out of me quickly pulling a moan from my lips. I brace my hands on the stone as I catch my breath. 

“When you’re ready we’re going back up to our chambers and I’m gunna fuck you until he knows you’re mine.” he sits back and I nod to him with flushed cheeks.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been almost a moon since we’ve landed in Winterfell and the amount of survivors showing up is astonishing. We have a large camp circled around the walls that grow larger by the day. As more people arrive we give them dragon glass to shape into weapons of their choice. We’ve had confirmation dragon glass works on the white walkers and everyone seems relieved to have finally confirmed this theory. 

“When do we march north? Or are we staying here? What is the plan?” I look to Jace as I sprawl across his couch. Benji and Luke are sat at the table and look to Jace ready for his commands. 

“We fight here. He will come to us in the end.” Jace nods and goes to look out the window at the growing host around us. 

“Who will come?” Luke asks nibbling his lip.

“The night King. We kill him and this ends. We go home.” his voice seems far away and we look to each other with confused brows.

“You’re starting to sound like Alys, brother.” I chuckle and he turns to me with a smile. 

“Surprisingly, I don’t take offense.” he smiles sitting on a chair across from me. “I saw him beginning to march here. He has a large host of white walkers with him that he has no care if they live or die. We’re fighting for something. We have a reason and purpose. Fate is on our side. He will be here during the hour of the wolf.” he turns to look at Luke and Benji. 

“Tonight?” Benji asks taken aback.

“Yes, so get some rest. We either come out victorious or die.” Jace rises nodding to us. 

Benji, Luke, and I leave Jaces chambers to go and find a couple hours of sleep. We drop Luke off at his chambers and I hug him tightly and kiss his head. We make our way back to our chambers and collapse to the bed. We simply hold each other and curl up under the covers basking in each other’s warmth.

I sit up in bed as a loud horn is blown. Benji is looking out the window and I rise and go to his side. The castle seems to be surrounded by flame as I see a white mass headed for us. I turn back to the chambers trying to wake myself up quicker. I start to pull on my armor and sheath Dark Sister at my side. I turn back to Benji who is holding his hand out to me. 

“Are you ready?” I ask him slipping my hand into his. 

“I am. With the three dragons burning from above we will be able to be victorious on the ground.” he nods to me. We make our way to the main hall and see the remaining leaders gathered. On approach I see Alys coming out of a dark hall.

“What are you doing here?” I look to her confused.

“Making sure you both were awake for this war. They need you.” she nods us over to the conversation being held. 

“My siblings and I will be in the skies burning as many as we can without burning our own men. This is our last stand. We have all of the tools we need to succeed. It’s now or never. May the Gods choose our side.” Jaces voices carries throughout the hall and I tear up hearing him speak so confidently.

“A word sister?” Jace nods his head to the corner where Luke is waiting for us. “I wanted to tell you what I saw when I touched that tree. I saw us all here. Making the prophecy come true. Everything we have done has led us right here. We can reclaim this realm and break it free from the icy grasp of the Gods. It will be a new age for us. These men and women believe in us and will follow us even to their death.” his words cause my heart to tighten knowing no matter how much dragon flame and glass we use we will still suffer losses. 

“I will follow you even if it means my death, my King.” I lower my head and I see Luke do the same at my side.

“You both will live. I can’t do this without you. Together we will revive the Golden Age.” his words capture my breath. 

We all embrace and begin to walk out of the hall. Benji returns to my side and walks with us to our dragons. I make sure he’s armed with as many dragon glass weapons as his person can carry. I look up to him unable to help the worry written across my face. He smoothes my brow before placing his lips softly on mine. 

“If you die tonight, I won’t let them burn you. I’ll keep you as my white walker pet or something.” I pull back and look to him with furrowed brows and he barks out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best to stay alive.” he smiles down at me. “But it seems as if I’ll see you after regardless.” he kisses me once more and disappears into the sea of men and women. 

I sigh and turn to my dragon and see my brothers also talking to their dragons. I hug around my dragons neck and he lets out soft chuffs. Jace looks to Luke and nods and offers me the same motion. I begin to mount and once I’m settled and clipped into my saddle I turn back to my brothers once more. Jace and Vermax shoot into the sky and his dragon alights the sky with dragon flame. Luke and I fly up in unison our dragons spitting flame and washing the world in red for a couple moments. 

Our dragons cry out and we dip down aiming for the approaching white hoard. We all separate and bathe the undead in a fiery bath. A horn is heard from behind us and we hear the war cries from our host as they clash with the dead. A cool wind sweeps down from the north and I gasp as the world is cast in a blizzard. Our dragons cry out at being blinded and spit fire around the skies hoping to find a break. 

My heart beats wildly as my dragon and I try to find our way to the ground. He dives down spraying flame to clear our path and once we land we’re engulfed in flame as Luke lands next to me. White walkers approach us an instant later and our dragons call out as we’re surrounded. Luke and I dismount and pull our blades. There’s no time for hesitation as we begin swinging. Where our blade lands death follows and our dragons finish them with flame. I risk a glance into the skies for Jace and shake my head as I see nothing.

This has to work. It couldn’t have all been for nothing. All of the death and loss had to have meant something. My emotions pour into Dark Sister as I begin to court death. I hear Lukes grunts from a couple feet away as he’s engaged in a dance with two white walkers. I gape as he cuts them both down and doesn’t falter before he moves to the next. Pride surges in my chest as I focus on the walkers in front of me. As I swing my blade the blizzard begins to let up and I can finally see the host around us and see we’re not too far from the walls. 

The sun begins to rise washing the word in the normal gray as we continue to fight. I take small glances at the force around us and allow myself to smile as I see that a majority of us are still standing. I push off the walkers and run to Luke. 

“Mount Arrax and find Jace and then come and get me.” I take over the walkers he was dealing with as he shoots to the sky. I watch him fly north and turn my focus back in front of me. My dragon picks off the walkers that try to get to me when I’m further engaged. Arrax gives out a cry above me and I’m quickly mounting and flying after him. I follow him to the weirwood inside the walls and land running to the tree. There I spot Jace standing in front of a man made of ice. This clearly has to be the night King. 

“Jace,” I breathe out as I see the two Kings standing off. 

Jace lunges and their bodies are too close together to see what’s happening. Luke and I stand there frozen not knowing what to do. I hear a blade cut against flesh and I gasp. Jace staggers back hand still wrapped around Catspaw that is sticking out of the Kings chest. He twists and pulls it out swiftly and the King falls to the ground. Jace turns to us, blade in hand, and the sun begins to break through the clouds. It casts across Jaces face and the weirwood behind him. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been six moons since the sun shone upon our faces again. The losses the realm endured were too many to count. Rebuilding has taken time and will take longer than our own lives allow. Jacaerys was coronated in Winterfell before we flew to Kings Landing to see what remained. We all have been slowly healing and moving forward. Today in the peak of summer as the sun is its highest Jacaerys will be coronated again before the masses in Kings Landing. 

The remaining Lords and Ladies of the realm stand on the dais beside us as a crown is placed on his brow by the new High Septon. This crown has been forged with dragon glass and valyrian steel and named after him as the Reclaimer. Jace smiles and nods to us before he turns to the crowd and they erupt in cheers. 

“Jacaerys Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, the Reclaimer.” the High Septons voice reverberates off of the walls of the dragon pit as the crowd continues to cheer.

“I told you that the dragons would be able to reclaim the realm. I always believed in this outcome.” Benji whispers in my ear and I turn to him with a wide smile. 

“Stay here with us.” I look up to him with pleading eyes. “With me.” my voice soft.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” he dips down and places o kiss on my forehead.

“I should hope not or I would have to marry Cregan.” I smile up to him.

“Do not start.” his voice low as he pulls me against him before he pulls us off of the dais and he’s leading us into a carriage back to the Keep.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

this literally took over my mind for the past couple of days fr

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @p45510n4f4shi0n @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

[ichorai]

ties that bind ; nanami kento ; march 14th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; even the strongest sorcerers need to be saved sometimes.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married), parents au

warnings / includes ; gojo has no sense of boundaries, tiny hint of jealous nanami at the end, and all the jujutsu students are just chilling in this one :) can you tell i'm in desperate need of slice of life content, introduction to the other kids reader has with nanami! yuriko (born 2019), hiro (born 2020), and takara (born 2023)!

series masterlist.

14th march, 2024

With the cold remnants of winter fading into the soft blossoms of springtime, you and Nanami ventured out to the parks with the kids more often. This time, you’d brought the Jujutsu students along to enjoy the day as well—Yuji and Megumi were playing a rather competitive game of catch with a frisbee, Nobara and Maki were off buying ice cream from a cart vendor, and Toge and Yuta were leaned up against Panda, all soaking up the afternoon sun. 

Nanami was by the playground, gently pushing Yuriko and Hiro, five and three respectively, on the low kiddie-swings with a small smile on his face. His lips were moving as he spoke to them, but you couldn’t hear from the bench you were sitting a few feet away. You were rocking a stroller, carrying your youngest daughter, Takara. Her soft hair, a shade somewhere between you and Nanami’s own heads, was pulled into a tufty bun, which threatened to come loose with the position she’d fallen asleep in.

Gojo had also invited himself to the excursion, currently sprawled out in the space beside you, having his third—or was it his fourth? You couldn’t quite remember—brightly-colored popsicle. The two of you had exchanged quite a few pleasantries, but mostly it was just him chatting away about his students and the missions they often frequented. 

“I still don’t really understand,” you said, which made his head turn your way. “I can’t believe you actually teach these kids how to survive by dropping them in dangerous situations like that.”

The thought of your own children going on to learn in such a way made a shiver run down your back. Nanami would also surely pop a blood vessel if he thought about it for too long.

“They wouldn’t die,” Gojo responded easily. “Not on my watch, at least. I can save anyone. Anyone who wants to be saved, anyway.”

There was a distant tone to his words, but he was wearing a wide smile as he regarded you through his blindfolds. 

“Hm…”

“Don’t be worried about them,” he reassured you. “Trust me, showing them the real world is the best way for them to learn.”

“I know,” you said, voice small. Your eyes darted to Yuji, who had leapt an incredible distance up in the air to snatch the frisbee Megumi had tossed. “I just worry for all of them so much. It’s like they’re all my kids too now, you know?”

Gojo licked a long stripe up his melting popsicle, humming. “They’re stronger than you think. Besides, they’ll always have each other.”

Your next words made Gojo freeze in place, tongue still stuck out flat over the popsicle.

“If you save everyone, who saves you?”

Gingerly, Gojo pulled away from the popsicle. He laughed then, but it was slight and hardly genuine.

“I don’t need to be saved,” replied the white-haired man. “I’m the strongest.”

That elicited a soft snort of amusement from you. You weren’t looking at him anymore—instead, facing your husband at the playground, who had taken to helping Hiro and Yuriko onto a see-saw. A fond smile graced the corner of your lips. 

“Everyone needs to be saved at some point, Satoru. All we have is each other, in the end.”

There was a long silence as Gojo thoughtfully slurped up what was left on the popsicle stick. He was already itching for another.

He reached out to pinch at your cheek, ignoring your noise of surprise. “You’re so cute, you know. I’m so glad Nanami married you.” His words were high-pitched and crooned right into your ear.

“Ack—Gojo, stop!” You were laughing, nose wrinkled as you swatted at his hand.

Gojo had to pull away eventually, because he could feel your husband’s exasperated glare fall onto him. A second longer, and he figured Nanami would’ve pulled out that blunt blade of his.

[bucknastysbabe]

criston cole in a greens win au really is the kingmaker if he’s cucking aegon. slapped a crown on the king and now he’s making bastard kids to go on the throne. u go king.

Now I must write a blurb hnghhhh cuckingggg this is prob ass bc I’m sick rotting in bed with flubonic plague but OH WELL

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dayne!reader, greens win AU, Criston is dark and manipulative, Aegon sad sacking around the place, cukolding, exhibitionism, breeding kink, crispy creme pie, infidelity, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), pnv!sex, no beta I die like Ned stark, jealousy, one-sided-ish

Taglist: @starogeorgina @moncherri @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii

Do Your Job - C.Cole

Criston stopped caring long ago, pulling himself out of the layered filth of blood, gore, and dirt. Bodies of his men. The butcher’s ball they called it. Criston made sure that the Winter’s Wolves, Benjicot Blackwood, and Roddy the Ruin got a nice death by dragon. After some torture.

He saw through with that, as the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston had to attend to such matters. Such as what to do with Rhaenyra’s last child. Or the fucking mess that was Aegon. Aemond was still lurking around Harrenhal— said to return when his child was born. Aegon meanwhile, made Criston’s blood boil. Alicent was a maddened gnat in his ear.

Aegon had been recently remarried to a Dayne of Starfall, seeking out the ashen hair and Valyrian eyes of the Dornish house. She was gorgeous, eager to please, and could suck Criston’s prick under his desk for hours. The adorable queen had trouble with Aegon— considering the man was a bag of shattered bones and burns. The maesters had been attending to the two’s fertility plan.

She was not hard to woo, seeking Cole’s comforts as Aegon still wanted to hoard playthings and whores, uncaring much of his wife at the moment. He bedded her regularly— but they had to be careful with his bad leg and hip. Criston’s little star, beautiful as one, was the shiniest thing in the dreary keep by far. But horribly lonely, so he’d been keeping an eye, asking the Queen to help him with letters and tasks of the realm.

It wasn’t long before she was in his lap crying about how terrible the Red Keep was. Criston had his proverbial claws sunk deep into her by then. He meant his words of praise, how special his star was, and meant doubly on how much he too hated the Keep. Criston’s fingers crawled up her dress as he cooed, bringing the girl to likely her first orgasm since arriving.

They sat together in the Hand’s foyer, Ser Cole writing a letter to some raucous lordling. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, dark eyes meeting a strange indigo of sorts. “Have there been any advancements with the maesters and your womb?” She shook her head, blush dusting her cheeks.

“Go on, what’s the issue my star?”

She leaned over the table to grip his hands, pleading in her body language. “Do not grow wroth when I tell you this okay?” Criston nodded, there was no chance he would not be pissed. Just a feeling. The Dayne sighed, “He’s impotent but he swears it’s me, I don’t know, they’ve started transferring his, seed, into me. By now I’m not sure, he berates me about it.” Criston’s eyes narrowed and she squeaked.

The smaller figure was picked up by him, striding to the King’s chambers. Where Aegon was like to be making two court favorites defile themselves. The queen begged, “My lord, please, I know you feel strongly for me but-“

He growled, “No!,” then softer, “No. He’s being a fool, a lady’s desire should help the process. I’ll oversee you two. We need heirs to the throne.”

He kicked open the door, startling a half-awake Aegon. Criston gently laid the Queen on the bed then turned to a glaring Targaryen. Aegon’s burnt face twisted in annoyance, slightly slurring, “The hell is going on here Cole?” A goblet of wine sat in front of him— of course he was drinking.

Criston folded his arms. “You’re drunk right now? It’s barely even past midday.”

“Sorry, one tends to get bored when his wife would rather cavort around with the Hand,” he acridly spat back.

She protested from behind, “Alright, I can stay around, it’s fine!”

Criston eyed his star and back to Aegon. He asked “You have a beauty like that and can’t fill her belly with seed? You have the maesters stuff her like a turkey instead? Pathetic.”

Aegon’s form shook with rage, reaching for his crutch, Criston swiftly kicking it out of the way with a clatter. Aegon barked, “I’m your goddamn king, bring that back now! Maybe she’s the one barren, dirtied by lowborn seed!”

That little fucker! Criston’s eye twitched. He had not put his cock into her sacred place but now? Someone had to do the job— and it would be him. The taller brunette forced Aegon’s chair closer to the bed, the king hissing in pain, violet eyes wide. Cole chastised, “Since you’re so smart, I’ll do a little test, see if my lowborn cock has sullied her womb.” Aegon’s soft face pulled into a frown, squirming in position.

Criston began to pull at his gauntlets in quick snaps, then the bracers, and the chest plate along with the heavy shoulders. He decided to keep his chain of hands on as an ego boost. Lowborn cock raised to the second highest position in the realm, doing the highest position’s job.

Dayne stared at him, eyes flicking to the strangely silent Aegon, then back. Criston smiled at the queen, winding a tan hand into her ashen locks. He murmured, “Don’t worry dearest, we’ll have you feeling wonderful in no time, right your Grace?” Aegon remained stone cold— lips pouting.

The hand began to ease off the simple Dornish layers of her dress, baring that gorgeous body. How could she not be fertile? His star was all curves and soft skin, she would be great as a mother. Criston told her that, earning a whine, her legs wrapped around his waist. He panted to the king, “First, they need to be actually attracted to you.”

Cole pressed lush kisses to her neck and shoulders, his big hand testing the waters between her thighs. She was a little wet, not yet how he could get the Dayne, sopping. He rasped just for her ears, “Relax for me, he’s so jealous you might get an obedient king. Gorgeous star doesn’t know her own wiles.” She writhed a bit, tits pressed tight against flat chest.

“Oh, oh, there my Lord,” the blonde panted.

Criston was pumping one finger into her velvet heat, sliding in a second one to crook upwards. His thumb swirled around her swollen bud. He laughed carelessly at Aegon, whose scarred hands dug into the sides of his chair, puffy lips open. The brunette snarked, “See how easy it is not to be a selfish prick? It’s quite rewarding to make your lady come— although I think she’s already too attached to me.”

The king whined softly.

The queen moaned louder, crying Criston’s name and wetting his fingers further. The knight pulled from her full tits, purposely working her cunt over while asking. “Doesn’t that feel good little star? Don’t you wish your King would take care of you like that?” The queen gasped and mewled, cheeks a deep flush, eyes guiltily looking over at the squirming Aegon.

Criston patted her cheek, pressing a kiss over plump lips. Inky eyes and smug lips turned again to talk down to the Targaryen. He added in a dark voice, “Obviously you can’t do the fucking job so I will until you get it up and pump her with a blonde one. Although I am quite attached myself, she’s a wonderful little star. I’m going to fuck her good and thorough. Our first time too.”

Aegon whined, begging, “Ser, stop, I didn’t know, don’t!” But his hard cock was pulsing and the king had made no attempt to call for help. He couldn’t move either, the crutch out of his grasp. Aegon watched Criston work his wife into a peak, her pretty breasts heaving, thighs twitching. Utterly gorgeous. Jealousy swelled within his burnt chest.

The Dayne beauty sloppily mouthed against Criston’s mouth, trailing down to press kisses against his lower belly, grabbing his cock before asking. “You want to impregnate me sir? Give me an heir?” She could almost explode at the thought. Criston nodded, eyes hazy as her plump lips enveloped his cock, hands expert on rolling his balls and the other working in tandem with that warm mouth.

Aegon made a gutted noise.

Criston groaned deeply, watching his length disappear down velvet throat. The queen kept her indigo eyes on him, teary and wide. Fucking beautiful. He swallowed down a weak noise and rasped to Aegon, “She’s quite good at this, willing to please and eager to learn your Grace. But there you are, quickly back to your old ways.” She shuddered at the praise, Criston easing his star off so the real fun could begin.

He murmured, “On your back sweetling.” He pecked her once, shivering at the taste of him. The queen laid on her back, instinctively tucking a pillow under her hips. Criston rumbled, playfully giving her ass a smack. “Good girl, mmm, you just want to be a mama hm?” The shared noises of Aegon and his Queen made the Knight laugh.

He eased himself on top, making sure her thick thighs spread around his waist. The knight laid forward, grinning and nuzzling her nervous face. He cooed, “You’re safe with me star, pretty baby, doing so good.” Her arms slunk around his shoulders, their bodies fitting with together as Criston eased himself into her slick, swollen folds.

Fuck, she was tight and pulsing already, inner walls aiming to milk the man. Lady Dayne cried out, busty tits heaving as she was filled up by Ser Criston’s heavy cock. It was foreign, having so much care put into her pleasure. She moaned in surprise when he bottomed out, rasping nonsense against her neck.

Aegon sniveled now, watching his Queen get something he couldn’t possibly provide. Ser Criston, the crafty fucker, already worked his magic and cock into his queen. The blonde regretted many an action against his wonderful wife— seeing how she mooned over fucking Cole. Cole; a common born conniving oathbreaking madman, he truly enjoyed seeing suffering and agony. But there he was, giggling and gently fucking Aegon’s queen, the picture of chivalry. He needed more wine, and to tug his miserable cock.

Criston hiked her legs up, the back of her knees in the crooks of his arms— a mating press. She cried out, little hands scrabbling at his shoulders, eyes getting teary with pleasure. He moaned low, forcefully fucking himself inside her tight cunt, making sure she could feel every little drag and thrust. She mewled in ecstasy, “Criston, Ser, breed me, breed me please! Ohh I want it, need it!”

He grinned at Aegon’s sobs and pulling of his own prick. Criston teased “You want my seed star? Want to be all pretty and round, knowing your Lord Hand made you swell? Tits and hips so ripe for me, such a pretty mother you’ll make.” She tightened around him, arching her back, practically drooling. He focused on fucking her deep, swiping his thumb around her button, earning the cutest little mewls.

“Yes! Gods yes! Criston,” she howled, clamping down on his prick. He pressed his lips to hers, grunting as he fucked her to the point of no return. He cooed at his cute little star crying out her peak, gushing all over his still-moving cock. She weeped, “Please, give me your seed, want to be a mama, please!” Cole couldn’t deny her request, groaning long and low as his tummy tightened, emptying pump after pump of his cum into her tight pussy. He bit his lip bloody in the process, feeling feral, but the knight wouldn’t tear her skin like that.

He let go of her legs, gently holding her canted hips, humming, “How long do they say wait Aeg?”

A sharp cry, gasp, and tortured, “15 minutes.”

The Dayne didn’t even seem to be worried about her broken husband, smiling and holding Criston’s big hands. She kissed at each knuckle, eyes full of adoration and love. How they should be. How he deserved all along. What a special little star.

The first two came out with brown hair and eyes, sending a familiar shock across the keep. Then the third had ashen hair, just like the Queen. Mayhaps the Targaryen gene wasn’t that strong within Aegon, people whispered. Criston would smile, not indulging a secret. He’d rub her pretty bump alone, let Aegon play the daddy. He did alright enough.

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

You are to be wed to Niklaus of the Mikaelson clan, but when tragedy strikes and blood is shed in the snowy night, the true strength of family bonds and the power of love are put to the ultimate test.

♡♡ I'm back with another series, one I've wanted to write for a long time. This series explores the lives of the Mikaelsons as ordinary individuals in the Viking era, told from the reader's perspective but also Niklaus's. ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of death and violence, sprinkle of norse mythology... no smut in this part, {Spoiler: it will be eventually reader x Elijah}

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

"Gerda! Come help me with these flowers," you yelled from the back garden. You were gathering the best wildflowers you could find to make a wreath to wear for the feast that evening. It was still winter, but it had been mild for almost a whole moon, bringing the wildflowers early.

"Coming systir!" she replied. Gerda came out into the garden a few moments later, carrying a basket full of wildflowers and a smile on her face. "These will look so lovely in your hair tonight," she said holding up a bunch of lavender. "I'm sure Niklaus will be so happy to see you."

You blushed slightly at her words. Niklaus.

Your mother had told you that the feast tonight was to announce your marriage to the young Mikaelson. Your family was thrilled, having you marry one of the sons of the Karl increased your family's standing among the clan. However, you were still nervous. You had grown up with Niklaus, he was kind and had a sweet smile, but he was also quite wild and battle hungry. He had just returned from his first raiding voyage to the coast of the English lands, and the stories of his bravery were spreading.

“I'm sure he will, but he is not my betrothed yet," you said as you put some more flowers in your basket.

"That does not mean that he will not be soon, and you will have to kiss him eventually," Gerda replied.

"Gerda!" You threw a bunch of flowers at her. "Do not be so improper."

"Sorry systir," Gerda said laughing. "It's just exciting, you are getting married to a Mikaelson!"

"Let us hope that the gods smile on our union," you said, picking up your basket of flowers.

Gerda had only seen eleven summers yet she was eager to grow up, while you were less than eager. Your betrothal had been a long time coming and it was a good match for your family, but you didn't have the same excitement as your sister. You felt unprepared to be a wife.

You saw Niklaus coming over with his little brother Henrik and a small smile crossed your face.

You looked up at Niklaus. "Hello, Niklaus."

"My dear," Niklaus greeted, bowing his head. "You look beautiful as ever."

"Thank you," you replied.

Henrik stood beside his brother. "Nik, you promised we could spar today!"

"Henrik, patience," Niklaus said, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "How about you go with Gerda, she can watch while you practice."

"Come on Gerda, let's go," Henrik said excitedly, taking her hand and pulling her over to the field.

"Your brother seems enthusiastic," you remarked.

"It's what he was born to do," Niklaus said, watching his brother and your sister run off.

"They would make a good match, your Gerda and my Henrik," he suggested.

"Oh yes, Gerda is very fond of Henrik," you agreed. "But they are both so young, it's a bit too early to make a decision such as that."

"Of course, I would not wish to rush them," Niklaus said. "Besides, you are the one I'm here for today."

You looked away, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks. He was a true charmer and had seen many battles even at his young age, the ladies in the village loved him and were always fighting over his attention. But the truth was you didn't feel anything when you looked at him. There was no spark or tingle of love the way it was described in the fables, just a friendship that you wished would turn into something more.

But it was an honor for your family, to be marrying into such a noble household. And it wasn't like he was ugly, or cruel. He was a good man and would no doubt make a fine husband.

"I think it will be an early spring, with all of these flowers in bloom," Niklaus said, reaching down and picking a blue wildflower and handing it to you.

"I do too," you replied, smiling and putting the flower in your hair.

"Nik, I thought you were sparring with me!" Henrik yelled, trying to gain the attention of his older brother

"Very well!" He responded, giving you a wink before running after his little brother, he picked up Gerda and gave her a spin, making her laugh.

You laughed at the sight and watched the three of them. Niklaus, Henrik, and Gerda. Playing around and having fun, but soon the time would come for them to grow up, and you feared what that would bring.

The sound of laughter and music filled the longhouse, you were sitting on a bench between your mother and father, enjoying the feast.

Henrik and Gerda were dancing and playing near the fire, laughing and smiling. They had been inseparable all day, both excited about the wedding to come.

Your eyes found Niklaus, sitting on the other side of the longhouse, chatting with his older brothers, Finn and Elijah.

Your engagement was to be announced tonight, in front of the whole clan, but you had already heard the news. You were going to be Niklaus' wife, and the next lady of the Mikaelson clan.

But you would be lying if you said that the thought didn't fill you with dread. You didn't feel ready to be a wife.

You saw beautiful Rebekah, Niklaus's sister, dancing with her friends. Her long blonde hair in a thick braid with ribbons and flowers. She was laughing and having a good time, while you sat alone and tried to hide how nervous you were.

She came over and took your hand. "Come dance,”

You smiled and joined her, spinning and twirling around.

"I've heard the news, congratulations," she said. "My brother is a very lucky man."

"Thank you," you replied.

Rebekah pulled you in close. "Soon you will be with child and I'll have a little niece or nephew to dote on," she said, her hand moving down to touch your belly.

You laughed, a blush spreading across your cheeks. "Yes, that is my hope."

"Well, the sooner the better," Rebekah replied. "Nik is getting antsy."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"There has been word that the Blackthorne clan has been moving in this direction," she said. "Nik's been preparing for a battle, he says he will not let them pass our borders."

"I see," you replied. The Blackthorne clan were known to be ruthless and merciless. Their leader, a man named Einar, was notorious for his brutal raids and pillaging. It had been said that he once slaughtered an entire village just because they refused to give him one of their daughters.

"My father doesn't think they will make a move, but Niklaus is worried," Rebekah said. She gave you a searching look, "He lusts for war and glory."

You frowned, looking at her. "What if he's right? What if they attack? What will happen to us?"

"Don't worry sweet girl, you are apart of my family now, and the Mikaelsons will protect you," Rebekah promised.

As the night went on you feasted and danced with the people of the village. There was food and drink for everyone, and the mood was jovial.

You saw your father sitting next to Mikael, they were deep in conversation and your father was nodding along with whatever the elder Mikaelson was saying.

Mikael suddenly stood, raising his mug and the room fell silent.

"Tonight, we celebrate the engagement of my son Niklaus to the daughter of Erik," Mikael announced, looking over at the two of you.

"To a bright future, may they have many sons to lead us into battle and may their union bring great fortune to both families."

The clan erupted into cheers, banging on the table and lifting their mugs.

"A toast, to Niklaus and his bride!" Mikael called.

Everyone raised their mugs, cheering for the couple. Niklaus approached you and wrapped his arms around you. “It seems the gods have finally smiled upon us," he whispered.

You nodded and smiled at him, trying not to let him see the uncertainty in your eyes. He kissed your cheek and danced with you, the feast continuing on.

As the night wore on, you sat by yourself, watching the dancing and laughter. Rebekah and her friends were talking, Henrik and Gerda were still spinning around, and Niklaus was deep in conversation with Elijah.

Your parents had left, they were a bit older and didn't stay up late like the others. You wanted to leave as well, but Gerda was having so much fun, you didn't want to cut her night short.

Kol came over, sitting down beside you. "You should be out there having fun, not sulking here all alone."

"I'm not sulking," you replied.

"Yes you are," Kol said, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and stuffing it in his mouth. The two of you had grown up together, and he always knew when something was wrong.

"Well, the whole marriage thing has been weighing heavily on my mind," you confessed.

"Oh, come on, Nik's a fine warrior," Kol remarked. "My brother has always been taken with you, he will make a good husband... I think," he teased.

You laughed a bit, pushing him gently. "I know, I know, but I just wish to wait a bit longer. It seems like this has all happened so quickly."

Kol put his arm around you. "You will come to love him, and even if you don't, I am sure the bedding will be enjoyable."

"Kol, stop it!" You giggled, shoving him away.

He grinned and took another piece of bread, "You go home and rest, I'll watch Gerda."

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Positive," he said. "You are both family now, I will protect her as if she were my own blood."

"Thank you, Kol," you replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I will see you tomorrow."

You made your way out of the longhouse and back towards your home, the cold night air filling your lungs, you breathed out a plume of heat into the chilly air, perhaps winter was not quite done yet. As you walked you thought about Niklaus, he had been so kind and thoughtful lately, he was a good man, you had no reason not to marry him.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of rustling in the bushes, you paused and listened. It was probably just a fox or some other woodland creature, but something didn't feel right.

Suddenly, you were knocked to the ground, a man pinning you down.

"Don't scream," he hissed.

You struggled beneath him, trying to push him off. He smelled of mead and sweat, his face was covered in dirt, his teeth rotted and bloody.

He pressed a blade to your throat, you stopped moving and let out a gasp.

"Do not fight, and I won't hurt you," the man growled.

He had black hair and was wearing a thick fur cloak, his body pressed against yours as he held you down. He pulled at your dress, ripping the fabric and exposing your skin.

"No!" You cried, struggling against him.

He moved his hand up and grabbed your face, his fingers digging into your jaw.

"You are a pretty one, will fetch a good price," he said, running his hand down your body and touching you roughly.

You heard the sound of a horn blowing, signaling a raid. Panic coursed through you.

The Blackthornes had come.

The man was distracted momentarily by the sound and you took the opportunity to grab a rock and smash it against his head. He grunted and fell back, letting you go. You scrambled away and stood up, running to your home.

You heard the shouts of the villagers as they prepared for battle, the sounds of swords clashing and people dying.

As you ran, you saw a group of warriors, led by Einar Blackthorne, storming through the village, killing and setting everything on fire. By the time you got to your house, it was in flames.

Your parents were nowhere to be seen and your heart dropped. You picked up the wood axe sitting on a stump and broke down the door, the heat and smoke burning your lungs.

"Faðir!" You shouted, coughing and looking around. "Móðir!"

"Y/N," a voice called. You saw your mother, kneeling on the floor and holding her hands over her chest.

"Móðir!" You cried, rushing over to her. "What happened, are you alright?"

"Dóttir," she said, reaching out to you, her breathing was labored and her hands were covered in blood.

Your father lay next to her, a wound in his stomach and a pool of blood surrounding him.

"Faðir," you gasped, looking at his lifeless body.

"Gerda," your mother croaked, clutching at your dress. "Go get Gerda,"

"I will," you assured her. "But first I must get you out of here."

You tried to help her stand, but her breathing became ragged and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Móðir?" You said, shaking her.

She didn't respond and her head slumped forward, her body limp in your arms.

"Móðir!" You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The smoke grew thicker, and the fire was getting closer. The wood beams above cracking and falling.

You laid her down gently, the smoke stinging your eyes, the heat of the flames singeing your hair and burning your skin.

You stumbled through the flames, making your way out of the house, you coughed and sputtered, trying to breathe in the clean air. Your village was engulfed in chaos and flames, you could see the invaders killing and stealing, their cries echoing through the night.

"Gerda," you whispered, trying to catch your breath.

A figure appeared in the darkness, a man wielding a sword, his body covered in blood and his face masked by the smoke. He was wearing the Blackthorne colors of gray and red. You raised your axe and struck him down, the blade slicing through his neck. Rage and adrenaline coursed through you, the fury of Tyr fueling you as you continued on, searching for Gerda.

Your family, your clan, your home had been destroyed. Everything you loved was burning, but you were determined to find your baby sister.

Your ran back to the longhouse, it was in flames, the heat radiating off of the building.

"Gerda!" You screamed out for her, trying to find her in the chaos.

You could hear the sound of fighting and screams, the smell of burning wood and blood filled the air.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the smoke, the same one who tried to rape you earlier, you raised your axe again, ready to strike.

But the man grabbed the blade, stopping the swing mid-air and pulling it from your grasp. He smirked and grabbed you by the hair, throwing you to the ground. You looked up at the longhouse, the place where you had spent so many nights with the Mikaelson family, the place where Gerda and Henrik were.

"You will make a good prize," he growled, running his hands over your body.

"No!" You screamed, thrashing around and he laughed and pinned you down, his hands tearing at your dress.

You could hear the cries of the villagers as they fought for their lives, the screams of the children and the clash of steel.

A hand grabbed the back of your attacker's neck and he was ripped away from you, you gasped, scrambling back. You watched the men fight viciously, exchanging blows.

Your savior was wearing the Mikaelson colors of green and blue, and you realized it was Niklaus.

You stood and grabbed your axe, raising it and attacking other raiders as they tried to approach, giving Niklaus the advantage.

"Y/n! systir!" You heard the sound of your name being called and you looked up, seeing Gerda and Henrik being hauled off by the raiders.

"Gerda!" You shouted, running after them.

You couldn't reach them, another raider jumped in front of you, swinging his sword. You ducked and avoided his blow, swinging your axe and catching him in the side.

He fell to the ground and you kept running, chasing after the raiders and your sister. You ran as fast as you could, dodging the raiders who were trying to stop you. But it was no use, they caught you and dragged you back.

Snow was starting to fall, and you could feel the cold biting at your skin. Two raiders had you by the arms, dragging you along the cold ground, you knew it wouldn't be long before you saw Valhalla. They threw you onto the back of a horse, the cold metal of a knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't struggle or we'll throw you into the fire," the man behind you growled.

You kicked him hard, and he struck you across the face, but you didn't care. Your family was dead, your home was gone, and Gerda was being taken away.

Suddenly, the men on the horse yelled, and the knife was pulled from your throat. You looked up to see a figure in armor, holding a Mikaelson shield in one hand and a sword in the other.

He struck down the Raiders, their bodies falling to the ground. You were disoriented from the blow, unable to see who had come to your rescue.

The figure grabbed the reins of the horse, and the beast whinnied, bucking wildly. He pulled you against him, the metal of his armor cold against your skin.

"Shhhh," he whispered, trying to calm the horse.

You recognized the voice, it was Elijah, Niklaus’ elder brother.

"We have to get out of here, can you ride?" He asked.

You nodded and he handed you the reins. You could see the bodies of the raiders scattered around, and the sounds of the battle were beginning to fade. Snow and ash fell from the sky, and the scent of death hung in the air.

"Come on," Elijah said, pulling himself up behind you.

He wrapped his arm around you, taking the reins back. "I will take you somewhere safe," he promised.

"What about your family? They took Gerda and Henrik," you asked, tears stinging your eyes.

The horse took off, galloping through the woods and away from the destruction. You looked back, seeing the flames and smoke rising into the night sky, and you wondered if Gerda was still alive.

"I saw Niklaus going after them, we have to hope he can save them," Elijah replied.

You held onto the horse tightly, the wind and sleet whipping against your face. The snow falling heavier now, the trees bare and the branches covered in a layer of ice.

Elijah's voice cut through the cold, "I know a place we can shelter from this storm,"

The wind howled and the snow fell heavily, obscuring your vision. You could barely see a thing, but you trusted Elijah.

You didn't know how long you'd been riding, but eventually, Elijah stopped the horse and helped you down.

He brushed away some snow to reveal a small cabin built into a overhang of rock. He tied the horse to a post under the eaves of the structure and opened the door, motioning for you to enter.

"It's not much, but it will keep us warm," he said.

The cabin was made of logs and stones, and there was a fireplace in the center. You shivered, your body numb from the cold.

Elijah started a fire with some wood that was already stacked inside the cabin, and soon the room was filled with warmth and light.

You sat on a bench, the flames from the fireplace flickering, casting shadows on the walls. Elijah sat beside you, and you could see the exhaustion and sorrow in his eyes.

"What of the rest of your family? Your parents? Rebekah? Kol? Finn?" You asked.

Elijah let out a sigh, "my parents and Finn were killed, I lost Kol and Rebekah, I don't know where they are or if they're even alive,"

He turned to look at you, his dark eyes full of sadness. "What about your parents?"

You looked away, a lump forming in your throat. "Dead as well."

You tried to stop the tears, to be strong, but the thought of your mother and father, and all those people, gone, was too much to bear. You buried your face in your hands and sobbed, the grief washing over you like a tidal wave.

Elijah placed his cloak around you and got up to stoke the fire. He added more wood, and the flames crackled and popped.

He sat back down and you moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. You were both tired and hurt, and you knew that this might be the last night you ever spent alive. You were both silent for a moment, the weight of the night's events heavy on your minds.

"I am sorry about your family," Elijah whispered.

"As I am sorry about yours," you replied, looking up at him.

This was the first time you ever really spoke to him, as children you were always running around with Kol and Rebekah. Elijah was the stern older brother, the one who was always scolding you for being reckless. But now, he seemed so different.

He placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that were rolling down your cheeks.

"We will find them, and send every single one of those Blackthornes straight to Hel,"

Niklaus was smiling as he feasted and celebrated his engagement. The scent of meat and ale mingled with the smell of pine and fire, the flickering candles casting a warm glow on the room.

He sat with his brother, Elijah, watching as the members of the clan drank and danced. The atmosphere was festive, and everyone seemed to be having a good time, Niklaus loved a good party, especially one that was about him.

"Isn't she a beauty, brother?" He remarked, watching you from across the table.

"She will be a fine wife for you," Elijah replied, sipping his mead.

"Do you think she will let me bed her before the wedding? I do wish to know what pleasures await me," he grinned.

"Niklaus," Elijah sighed, "You cannot speak of your betrothed in such a manner, have some respect."

"Relax brother, it is just the two of us," he shrugged.

"Still, a woman's virtue is not a subject to be jested about,"

"Oh come on, 'Lijah, I'm only joking. Even the gods would agree that the wedding cannot come soon enough." He said, taking a sip of his mead.

The men were sitting around the table, feasting and drinking. Niklaus watched his little brother Henrik playing with Gerda, they were dancing and spinning in circles.

"I'm surprised Kol is not joining in on the festivities," Niklaus said, nodding to where Kol was sitting alone at the end of the table.

"He's been moody lately," Elijah remarked. "His courting of the Blackthorne girl did not go well, he returned with an arrow in his thigh."

"He was lucky to come back at all," Niklaus muttered. "Father won't listen to reason when it comes to the Blackthornes."

"What would you have him do Niklaus? Wage a war we cannot win?" Elijah replied, his eyes flickering over to where you were talking to some of the women.

"This is how I see it. We either bring the fight to the Blackthornes or wait for them to bring the fight to us," Niklaus stated.

"You two talk of politics like wise old men," Finn piped up. "But you're nothing more than fools, unprepared for battle. The Blackthornes are a mighty clan, and if we were to attack, we would lose everything we've built here."

"When have you seen battle Finn? When you put your trousers on in the morning? Or when you wipe your ass?" Niklaus laughed, grinning at Finn maliciously.

Finn rolled his eyes and ignored the insult, "This is a peaceful village. The only bloodshed we've seen is at the hands of wolves and bears. Father is right to avoid conflict."

"I stopped listening after you said 'father is right', that means nothing to me," Niklaus remarked, downing his drink.

"Well, then I shall take my leave and continue this conversation with someone who actually has the capacity to understand it," Finn huffed, getting up from his seat.

Elijah shook his head, "He does have a point Niklaus. War is not something we can take lightly, the consequences could be dire."

Niklaus watched as Finn went over to you and offered his hand, no doubt asking you for a dance. He watched as you politely rejected Finn. He smiled to himself, you really were the perfect wife.

"We can't avoid the Blackthornes forever. Eventually, we will have to make a move," Niklaus stated.

"Not today, Niklaus, not tonight. Tonight is a night of celebration," Elijah said. "You cannot lust after war on the night of your engagement."

"Fine," Niklaus sighed. "We will discuss this tomorrow,"

"Very well," Elijah agreed.

"I'll hold you to that," Niklaus said, downing the rest of his mead, he watched as you danced with Rebekah, he loved the way you smiled and laughed.

He felt a sense of peace and happiness, knowing that soon, you would be his wife. He looked to his father, who raised his mug and toasted to the union, a gesture that surprised Niklaus, but also put him at ease.

The music began to play, and the men started dancing with their wives. He came over to you, and told you how the gods were smiling down at your union. You looked so beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes off of you.

He danced with you for a while, before Elijah approached and asked for a private word. The brothers found a quiet corner, away from the crowds and music.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I've gotten word from a scout that the Blackthornes are near. Their numbers are great, and they are preparing to attack," Elijah informed him.

"When will they be here?" Niklaus asked, his mind already racing with possible scenarios and outcomes.

"On the morrow, if the scouts are correct," Elijah replied, his voice tense.

"Then we must prepare. I'll rally the men, and we'll set a trap. We'll lead the Blackthornes into the woods, and ambush them," Niklaus said, his eyes flashing with excitement.

"Father has it well in hand, enjoy the celebrations Niklaus," Elijah said. "And be careful not to drink too much, I will need your help in the morning."

Niklaus nodded, but couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced over to where you were sitting, chatting and laughing with Kol. You were so happy and carefree, and he wanted to protect that, even if it meant risking his life.

Niklaus spent the rest of the evening drinking and dancing, trying to push aside his worries. You left not long after, and he went to follow, but Kol stopped him, "Let her be Niklaus. She's tired, and I'm sure she has a lot on her mind."

He begrudgingly agreed and stayed, dancing with Henrik on his shoulders as Gerda did on Kol's. It was late, and he could feel the effects of the mead and ale taking hold.

"Off to bed now little Henrik. I'll walk you home sweet Gerda," Kol said softly, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

Suddenly the sound of a horn rang through the night air, and they froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"To arms!" Mikael shouted, his voice echoing through the longhouse.

The room erupted into chaos, the men rushing to grab their weapons and armor. Niklaus laughed, rushing to grab his sword, "So much for a peaceful night!"

He grabbed his shield and rushed outside, joining the fray of battle.

The smell of blood and sweat filled his nostrils as he swung his sword, cutting down raider after raider. Glory and honor filled his heart as he fought, but the thought of you was never far from his mind.

He had promised you that he would keep you safe, and he intended to keep that promise. Your father was old and you had no brothers to defend you, tonight it was his duty. He headed towards your home, but stopped at the sound of his sister screaming, he turned to see Finn swinging wildly at Einar Blackthorne.

His eldest brother was standing in front of Rebekah, she was holding a sword with shaking hands.

"Finn, don't!" Rebekah pleaded, watching him try to fight Einar, but it was an uneven match, Einar struck Finn across the torso with his axe and he crumpled to the ground.

Rebekah fell to her knees at his side, "No! Finn, no!" She cried, clutching to his body.

Einar grabbed Rebekah by the hair and dragged her away.

Niklaus roared and chased after them, but was cut off by a group of raiders, and he slashed and hacked his way through them, searching for where his sister had been taken in the chaos.

Kol was fighting nearby, the young warrior was up against a beast of a man, he stabbed Kol in the arm and he collapsed to the ground.

He heard the sounds of Kol's screams, the boy was fighting for his life. The sight of Kol, bloody and beaten, snapped something inside Niklaus.

He ran towards the man who had stabbed his brother, his eyes full of rage and fury. The man was large and strong, but Niklaus was faster, he plunged his sword into the man's chest and twisted, watching as the life drained from his eyes.

Niklaus could almost hear the drum beats of war, as though the gates of Valhalla had opened, and his ancestors were cheering him on.

The scent of blood and death was thick in the air, and the sounds of clashing metal and screams filled the night. The ground was covered in the bodies of the dead and wounded, and the snow was stained crimson.

He pulled Kol to his feet, and saw Elijah fighting off a group of raiders, his movements a blur as he sliced and cut.

"I can't find Rebekah, they've taken her!" Niklaus cried out.

"We will find her, brother. I promise," Elijah replied, his gaze fierce and determined.

Niklaus could see the fires from the longhouse, the smoke rising into the sky. His family's home was burning, and the village was being pillaged and raided.

Elijah pulled his younger brothers into an embrace, his hands on their shoulders, "our father and mother have been stuck down, I could not save them,"

"Finn?" Kol asked, his eyes darting around, looking for the eldest brother.

"Gone," Niklaus replied.

The three brothers looked at each other, the weight of their losses settling over them. Elijah pulled his younger brothers into an embrace, their foreheads touching.

"I will find Rebekah, I promise. Niklaus, find Y/N, get her to safety," Elijah instructed.

"But brother-" Niklaus began.

"Now!" Elijah roared.

Niklaus and Kol exchanged a glance and nodded, and Elijah took off in one direction.

Niklaus and Kol began to search the village, but all they found were the bodies of their people, dead and dying.

The sound of your screams caught Niklaus' attention, and he rushed towards the noise, Kol close behind.

They found you, being held by a raider, he was ripping at your clothes, and you were fighting him with all your might.

Kol saw Rebekah being loaded onto a cart and he rushed after it.

Niklaus' vision turned red, and he charged at the raider, pulling him off of you and tackling him to the ground. His blood was boiling, and he couldn't stop his rage.

He slammed his fist into the raider's face, again and again. The sound of bones crunching and the taste of blood filled his senses. He attacked him like a rabid beast and he watched you get to your feet and lunge at another raider, cutting him down with just a wood axe. He smiled and laughed at the sight, the goddess Freja possessed you, beautiful and deadly.

He heard the sounds of Gerda's screams and watched you chase after her. He went to follow but was knocked over by a blow to the head.

He rolled over, the world spinning around him. He tried to stand, but he stumbled and his vision blurred. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and silence fell.

He saw you being dragged away, kicking and screaming. He saw Kol, fighting a few paces away, his movements becoming slower and sloppier as his wounds took their toll. But he had saved Rebekah, she was helping him stay upright, the two of them fighting back to back.

He saw a raider raise his axe to strike Kol, and he saw Rebekah push him out of the way. Blood burst from her face as the blade made contact. She fell to the ground, clutching her head.

It was as if Thor himself had struck him with lightning, he forced himself to stand, roaring with pure rage. He grabbed a spear from the ground. He hurled it, watching as it impaled the raider, a look of surprise and pain on his face as he fell to the ground, dead.

Niklaus rushed towards his siblings, grabbing them and dragging them to their feet.

"Go!" He shouted, picking up Rebekah and dragging her towards the tree line, Kol close behind.

He looked back, trying to see you, but you were gone.

They stumbled into the woods, the sounds of the raid fading into the distance.

"Where's Elijah? Henrik, Gerda, Y/n?" Kol asked, panic in his voice.

Niklaus didn't reply, the weight of his sister and the wound in his side making it difficult to breathe.

"Niklaus, where are they?" Kol repeated.

"I- I don't know," Niklaus panted, stumbling over a branch.

The trees loomed above them, the darkness of the forest threatening to swallow them whole.

They continued to run, the sounds of the battle growing distant.

"We will find them. But first we must get Rebekah to a healer, she will die if we do not," Niklaus stated, his voice low and determined.

"We can't just leave them," Kol protested, his voice cracking.

"You don't think I know that!" Niklaus yelled, louder and angrier than he meant to.

Kol was quiet, the only sounds were their labored breathing and the crunching of leaves beneath their feet.

They walked for what felt like an eternity, the pain in Niklaus' side growing worse with every step. The rapidly falling snow making it hard to see.

Niklaus could hear Kol sniffling and muttering to himself, his younger brother was barely holding on.

He was struggling too, the guilt and pain eating away at him.

He had failed you.

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡

[buckrecs]

Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies. 

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate? 

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...  

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

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[mizusnose]

Sweet Dark

Reincarnation au,, partially inspired by @libbyfandom whose own mizu x reader reincarnation au had me in tears—thanks for writing it! Also heavily inspired by To Someone From A Warm Climate by Hozier

Summary: Mizu dealing with the aftermath of reader’s death and coming to terms with losing you, then having you again in the modern world.

“But it happened easy darling, as natural as another leg around you in the bed”

———-

Hot blood stained Mizu’s fingers, her wrists, her arms and shoulders where you laid against her. She pressed you to her chest, a child crying in her mother’s breast. A silent cry, none at all.

“Ringo! Get me my cape.” Mizu’s throat was raw, a scream that carried too long. A broken wing mid flight, a bloody landing.

Ringo hurried over, the blood soaked snow crunching beneath his feet. Mizu felt unfocused as she looked down at you, a limp thing in her arms. Something she’d had nightmares about, a dream untethered and untrue, one you’d help her come down from when she gasped awake in the middle of the night. Her sobs a broken noise.

Now, it’s not a dream—it’s real.

Mizu scoops you up, can barely feel the warmth within your chest now that most of it had been lost from the blood lost.

“No no no no no—please, no, no!”

Her front was soaked in your blood. A smell that would faster leave her nose than her own death. One Mizu would wake from, even months after she’d buried you tucked away in Kohama, against the tree line where she’d learned how to fight.

Not enough to fight for you, but a memory nenotheless.

Mizu considered herself someone who didn’t care. About herself, about the world, about anyone—and yet..

The night Ringo had to tear your cold body from Mizu was the start. She hadn’t slept. Waited instead for the sun to rise above the pines, a rustling of a bird in the distance, eyes unfocused.

The nights after that just got worse. Mizu couldn’t sleep. When she would, she’d wake up, hands carrying your frame, your head, your limp arms—and realize her embrace would be empty. A dream put to shame.

She’d went back to Kohama. Try to recenter. Try to train. Try to heal.

Yet, as she’d lay down on the soft of the dirt in the absence of the fire, she’d shiver—a desperate wracking thing. She’d shake and her legs move, seeking out warmth. A heat from somebody rather than something.

Met with coldness, a deep quiet, an empty space.

Mizu didn’t sleep much at all if she could help it. Knew she’d resent the coldness only winter brings. What it meant to lose so much warmth from the loss of you.

She never truly got over it. Even after her life was gone and she’d been born again in the world renewed. She’d never been able to swallow around the lack of it: warmth of the bed from you.

So when she did have you again, everything and every part of you, it was worse than ever losing you.

Maybe because it was the joy that came with relearning it: your shaking against her body from the cool sheets, a duvet holding no heat. She’d pull the blankets over your both. Your face pressed against her neck—the same place you’d breathed your last exhale.

“Not used to the cold?” She’d chuckle.

“Nope,” You’d say, enamored by her, her her, “From a warm climate’s why.”

“You’ll get used to it.” And she’d press her body to yours as if to say see? i told you, see? I can protect you here, see? see?

Mizu wished she could express it all. The way all her dreaming had been put to shame, an instinct that was embedded in her: the cold lake water of her heart boiled over.

She’d think: what an innate primal thing it is to be loved. To experience a bed, warmed by someone you’d lost—someone found again.

And, as if in a dream again, she’d hold you and wake in surprise to see you there: alive, hers.

hers.

———

Hozier’s lyrics = the standard. title from savannah brown’s poetry book of the same name.

[belayadeath-goner]

R. TARGARYEN: HE NEVER LEARNED TO SYMPATHIZE WITH ANYONE. @rhaenyrsa

she's known many a man like that in her life time, many of whom didn't hesitate to trample on women or men weaker than themselves to their own gain. the world was full of them, from the seven kingdoms to the lands beyond the narrow sea; bianca has seen it all. and though times had changed -- people hadn't.

it's another reason why she undoubtedly would make the better regent. rhaenyra has shown time and again that she sympathizes with those around her, low - borns and even those that have crossed her before, she's pardoned and some even accepted into her court. “  which is why it was all the easier for them to usurp her grace's throne. lacking sympathy for even one's own blood; the small - folk will come to realize their faith in the false king is misplaced.  ”

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 1)

Summary :

Being a rich man's kid isn't as exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

You have no freedom.

Every choice has been made for you ever since you were born.

What you eat. What course you were going to study. What school you're going to.

Even the one you were going to marry.

So to your surprise, your father has finally chosen one thing right for you.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Look who's finally watching Game of Thrones. Surprise, surprise, I fell in love with Daenerys.

"This is bullshit!" Jon, your cousin, shouts as he paces around you.

Both of you were just given two names.

Two people you never met that you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

"Who the fuck is Ygritte and why do I have to marry her?" Jon shouts in frustration and you shrug.

"I mean, Father could've paired you with one of the Lannisters. Myrcella is an omega-"

"Shut up." Jon glares at you.

"You have to admit it. Ygritte is pretty as fuck."

"Lucky for Robb, huh? He's the heir so he could choose freely."

"She is. But- I don't know her, Y/N." Jon sighs as he sits next to you.

"Lucky asshole." You slap his arm.

"He's my big brother."

"He is. I wish I could be the heir."

"Seriously? You? Jon Stark of Winterfell Corp? Are you hearing me?"

"Shut up." The two of you look at each other then laugh. "Yours is pretty too, by the way. And a Targaryen too."

"Why them? Our mottos are literally parallels."

"Yeah. Winter is Coming."

"Fire and Blood. Like why her?" You groan at the ceiling.

"Just be glad that she's pretty. Some don't get that lucky."

"Are you talking about-" Jon nods and you sigh.

"I just wish we had freedom."

"Me too. Y/N. Me too."

-

You get your bag and look at the empty apartment around you.

"I need Sansa to room with me. Like gods, this place is fucking big enough for ten people at least." You mumble to yourself as you leave the apartment.

Just like everything else in your life. The apartment was provided by your Father, Ned Stark. You could count the number of times on your fingers that you've actually talked to him rather than just receive orders or scolding from him.

Your phone rings just as you get inside the Westeros University. You answer it as you see your little sister's name.

"Y/N! How are you?" You smile at Arya's voice.

"I'm good, Arry. Where are you?" How is she calling you right now?

"I'm at home. There was a lice problem at school today so we went home! Are you free??" You grin at her exciting tone.

"In two hours, I will be. Why?"

"Can we go play? Mom said she'll let me go to the mall if I'm with you!"

"Sure, can you wait there and behave?"

"Yep! See you later!"

"See you." You say softly and smile as you go to your first and last class of the day. You were so glad that you chose your own schedule. You sit down at your usual seat and hum as you take out your laptop. Looks like professor Varys is late today.

Westeros University is the biggest University in all of Westeros. It has lessons even in magic.

"Did you hear, Y/N?" You look up as Oberyn sits beside you. You were somewhat friends. He can charm anyone in a room while you can outread anyone in a room. Truth be told, even you didn't know why he talked to you.

"Hear what?"

"Not interested in rumors as usual?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Even if Varys tells us otherwise, I still don't like rumors and hearsays." Oberyn nods and grins in satisfaction.

"Which is why you make the perfect audience." You sigh. "Listen to this. Someone is doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Seeing if the dragons will choose them."

"Seriously? That thing hasn't been done in like 200 years."

"Right? But someone is brave enough to do it now. You know what it means, right?"

"Yeah. They get to sit on the Iron Throne regardless of their last name."

"And?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"And what?"

"Complete freedom!" You tilt your head at him. "No more choices by parents! No arranged marriages!"

"Damn. Sounds like a dream come true."

"For you guys. I still don't get why you guys won't love freely."

"Because last names have a value of their own. Here at Westeros at least. Oh. And Westeros Conglomerate too." Oberyn shakes his head.

"What you guys should value is talent, not blood."

"Meritocracy rather than blood right. Reasonable." Oberyn looks at you. "I don't make the choices though."

"Marry the king then."

"I'd rather die, Oberyn. I'd rather eat my own shit."

"Still hate men?"

"Only romantically." Oberyn chuckles just as Varys comes through the door.

"You're missing out on like half of the world then." You give him a smile.

"I don't think I am."

-

You hum as you park your car in front of the Stark Mansion. You were just getting your bag when you feel a pair of arms circle around your legs. You look down and see Arya smiling at you.

"Hey, Arya!" You scoop her up and she squeals. Arya is only 9 years younger but you love doing this to her. "Where's Ma and Father?"

"Dad is still at work! Ma is inside!" You put her down and nod.

"Come on, then. I'll tell Ma that I'll take you to the mall." Arya grins at you and she begins to tell you about her classmates and school.

"And then this one guy-"

"Y/N! You're home!" Catelyn Stark rushes over and hugs you. You hug her just as tightly.

"Hey, Ma. Arya wanted to play with me and it's been months since I've been home so I figured I should take her."

"I'm sure she understands that you're busy with university and all."

"I know, Ma! But school is out and she said she was free." Arya pouts from beside you and you smile.

"I am free, no worries." You ruffle Arya's hair and she smiles at you.

"Be sure to be back for Dinner then."

"We'll buy some before we get home. Are Robb and Father-"

"Busy." You nod in understanding then take Arya's hand.

"You ready for an afternoon with me? Your best sister?"

"YEAH! We'll destroy those high scores in the arcade!" You grin and agree.

-

You come home with a passed out Arya, a bag full of plushies, and a bag with food.

"You actually made her sleep? You are a godsend." You laugh at your mom and grin.

"Once you get Arya's quirks and use them against her, she can make herself run out of energy."

"Please don't tell-"

"Ma, she wants to. She can afford to learn it still."

"But her marri-"

"She's still 9, ma. She doesn't need to think about that yet."

"Right. Are you staying for dinner at least?"

"Sure. Is Sansa-" Before you finish your sentence, someone has already hugged you.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You turn around and find your other little sister, Sansa Stark.

"Well, I had to exhaust this one so." Sansa looks at Arya who was cuddling your neck still.

"Whoa. Arya never sleeps this early."

"Like I said. Exhausted. Are Brandon and Rickon here?"

"Yep! They should be getting back from Winterfell by now."

"What did they do there??"

"Father wanted to show them something. Are you staying tonight?"

"If you're willing to share your bed."

"ALWAYS!" You shush her and smile.

"I'll just be putting this one in her bed then I'll come down. Here." You give the bag full of food to Catelyn and smile. "Some of my favorites."

"I'll plate them up." You nod and begin your walk with Arya still sleeping while cuddling your neck.

"You're becoming heavier, Arya. I wonder if I should do some training just so I can carry you around."

-

"Y/N! You're back!" Brandon says then hugs you.

"Hey, little brother." You kiss his head and smile as he beams at you.

"SIS!" Rickon shouts then tackles you to no avail.

"Heya, baby bro." You pick him up and grin. "Did you grow??"

"I did! I'm defeating Arya soon!" You grin at him.

"Don't let her hear you!" You ruffle his hair then turn to Sansa. "Did you do your homework yet?"

"No? Will you help me later?" She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you groan at her. You admit that you're too weak to your siblings.

"Fine. But no talking about boys. I swear to God if I hear one more thing about-"

"But Ser Loras is just so dreamy." You look at her with a deadpan expression.

"Try me and I will sleep besides Arya." Sansa pouts.

"Fine. No boy talk." She grumbles. "Stingy."

"I'm gay. I'd rather marry another omega as long as she's a woman." Catelyn smiles as she sees you getting along with your siblings.

"Do not plant ideas in their head."

"Ma, Sansa is as straight as a ruler. These two don't even know what their second genders are." Catelyn rolls her eyes at you. "That reminds me, when's your test?" You look at Sansa as you place Rickon at his seat.

"This Monday! I'm so excited to confirm that I'm an Omega!"

"And if you're a beta?" You ask and Catelyn slaps your arm. "What? There's nothing wrong about being a beta! I wanted to be one before."

"You did?" Sansa asks and you nod. "Why?"

"More options." Catelyn hits your head and you laugh.

"Why? Does being an omega lessen your options?"

"Technically, I can't have another omega as my soulmate. Not that it matters."

"Oh yeah, dad said he sent you someone." You roll your eyes at that.

"He sent a file of someone. He wouldn't just let some stranger in my apartment."

"Who is it?? Can we know??" You groan at the excitement in Sansa's voice. There's nothing more that interests her than love talk.

"She's a Targaryen."

"The Dragon Family!" Rickon shouts and you ruffle his hair.

"Yup! Bran, do you know their motto?" Brandon hums as he gets some food.

"Yeah. Fire and Blood, right?"

"Yup! You all will get some ice cream. I brought some earlier." Catelyn glares at you. "What?"

"Cavities."

"I only visit once in a while, Ma. Just this once." Catelyn pinches your cheek. "Ow! Give! Give!"

"Just this once and don't ever do this again without saying anything to me."

"Yes, Ma! I got it! Ow!" Catelyn finally lets you go and you hold your cheek. You pout at her. "You didn't have to pinch that hard."

"You know how I feel about sweets." You sigh.

"I know. Sorry."

-

"Good thing the ice cream didn't give Rickon sugar rush."

"Yeah. It was a relief that Ma didn't pinch me."

"Those two boys really love you and adore you."

"They do." You look at Sansa and pat her hair. "I hope you become a beta, baby girl." Sansa scoffs at you.

"Wha- why!?" You smile sadly at her.

"So then you'll have more freedom." Sansa holds your hand. "Sadly. As an Omega, everything is controlled for you here in Westeros. Specially if you have a last name of a noble."

"Y/N." You squeeze her hand and grin.

"Hopefully, you and Arya get to decide your own futures. And your own partners." Sansa gets teary eyed at that. You let go of her hand then pat her hair again. "Time to get ready for bed. I'll just check on Arya for a second, okay?" Sansa nods at you and you close her door before covering your mouth with your hand.

Freedom. What a grand word. For you, it was thrown out the window when you got your test results.

Everyone says that Omegas have equal standings with Alphas. That the world is getting better.

"What a load of fucking bullshit." You mumble to yourself as you make your way to Arya's room.

You open the door and see that Arya is still fast asleep. You get to her bed and kiss her head.

"I hope you'll have more freedom than me, little one." You tuck her in and leave.

-

PS.

Jon is a Stark here and Catelyn knows he's Lyanna's son but no one knows who his father is. Let's just pretend for a second that he's not a Targaryen.

I actually was going to go the usual route for this aka Alpha Reader but decided against it. Omega Reader just works better for the angst inside my head.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

The Legend of the Haunted Mansion... Creed Reader AU:

(Warning: Mentions of abuse, death, possible suicide, mentions of someone going insane, and death of past Reader... you have been warned...)

• The old mansion, belonging to an old, secretive family, strays far past the modern road, and trails deep into the woods, towards the older waterways and near the mud... It's been there for ages, possibly two hundred years... The halls are covered in cobwebs, the rooms filled with dust, the air deathly still and cold, cold as death... Some say they can still hear the echoing cries of its residents, their haunting wails, their ghastly screams... Especially of the family who owned the estate...

• They were the Creed-Howlett family, one odd for their time. The mansion already had a secretive past, how it was built and why, and what happened to the parents of the brothers who inherited it. The family was run by two brothers, one by the name of Victor Creed, tall and sharp and blonde, a sabretooth tiger in the flesh, and one by the name of Logan Howlett, short and pointy and dark, as tough as a wolverine. These two were ferocious by nature, natural-born hunters and adventurers, and brothers by unknown family ties... They ran the estate, decorating it with their trophies and strange treasures, throwing lavish parties for their friends and their own amusement...

• The brothers would soon have heirs, though no one is sure how they were born, or to whom. All anyone knew was that the two brothers welcomed two children into their home, each expected to inherit their thirty for blood and vengeance... One was a brown-haired girl, poised and cunning and intelligent, sharp as a whip and just as dangerous with one in hand. Her name was Laura Howlett, taken in by Logan, and raised to be his successor... Then there was Reader Creed, a child that was kind and soft-hearted, one who was loud and caring of other living beings. This would drive a wedge between them and their family, as Reader Creed was quite different from the expectations of their family, or of society in general...

• Where their father and uncle were deadly, smart, and masterminding the downfall of their rivals and any perceived enemies, and where their cousin was perceived to be the more charming, socially acceptable heir, Reader Creed was ahead of their time. While others would frown on being so openly emotionally, that was what they were. They were blunt, honest, sincere, which their family, nor their friends, were, nor the society they were in. Reader Creed happened to be more interested in art than the hunt, sculpting odd creatures and painting scenes in soft colors, even making small toys from stuffing and scrapped cloth, rather than stuffing hunted animals or hunting large creatures. Even in social settings they stood out, not wearing clothes that were deemed appropriate, but rather wearing what they wished, no matter how it looked or how others felt.

• This tended to anger their family and the family's friends, annoying them and causing harsh emotions to well up. For some, it might have been enough to set up an unfortunate accident, which would lead to the wounding of the young heir. Records show that something, almost like a wild animal, had clawed them, harming their vision and scarring their face and neck. The following weeks, it was said they stayed locked away in their room, quiet as a whisper, slowly losing touch with reality.

• After the youngest Creed was well enough to walk around, it was noted how they were harder to find, often staying out of sight of others and avoiding rooms if they knew they were occupied. Some could hear them crying, when they thought they were alone. Others thought they heard whispers, words of pain and sadness, whispered in the dead of night. It wasn't long before Reader Creed would disappear...

• It was during a cold night in the snows of Winter that they went missing. A party had been thrown to celebrate a successful find by the two Creed-Howlett brothers, attended by their friends and allies and well-wishers. Some, such as the business partners Xavier and Lehnsherr, as well as old friends of the like as Ms. Darkholme and Mr. McCoy, even some young wards and students and heirs of the people were there, curious and excited... The last anyone saw of Reader Creed at the party was on their own, face fresh with their scars, and their eyes crestfallen, bright with tears... As the party was in full swing, they disappeared...

• No one was aware they had left until it was time to have everyone gathered... When a few noticed the young heir missing, a few guests offered to search for them, believing they weren't far. The look for them wasn't fruitful, no one being able to find the missing child in the main rooms. The search widened, as their family became involved... Yet when they checked their relative's favorite places to hide away, there was no one there. Now everyone knew they were missing. Some questioned if they'd been kidnapped. Others thought they passed out after leaving the party. And others thought they went outside...

• When they went to the gardens to check, they found footprints in the fresh snow. This lead the searchers deeper into the grounds, where the trail eventually died, covered by the snow that kept falling. There were no boot prints. Nor any missing coats or thicker gowns or jackets. Reader Creed had left barefooted, in the dark of a wintery night, without any protection from the elements. Their family and their guests fell into a panic, hoping they would find the young heir before it was too late-!

• But they did not...

• Reader Creed would eventually be found a few days later, frozen to death in the mausoleum, snow caught in their hair and fingers raw from scratching at the door, which had closed on them that fateful night, sealing them in a premature grave... Once they were found, their family fell apart...

• Laura Howlett would shut herself away, refusing to see anyone unless they were her father or uncle. The few who managed to speak with her reported she had become depressed, bitter, angry, keeping to herself and only seeing her closest friends. In later years, she would die from a fever, haunted even to death by what she thought were the cries of her cousin...

• Logan Howlett would fall into his work, burying himself into hunting and selling furs and bones of the creatures he'd find. It was said he started to indulge in drugged tea, hoping to escape his own guilt, yet instead only seeing his missing relative. Many nights he would spend pacing the halls, grieving and screaming in anger and loss... After his daughter passed, he would soon follow, having been poisoned by a viper, that no one knew where it came from...

• And Victor Creed, eldest brother and patriarch of the family, fell into enraged, fitful insanity. It was gradual, starting with denial, then acceptance of the death of his child... But his thoughts seemed to spiral, the longer it was without Reader Creed, and only fell deeper, harder, with the passing of Laura, then Logan... After he had outlived his entire family, it was said he would stalk the halls, hunting for phantoms that didn't exist, performing rituals thought to bring back the dead, grieving for the loss of his family...

• Tragedy befell the family's friends and allies as well, many meeting tragic ends or having haunting fates. While some would live to be old, most died rather young, insane or wounded... The mansion, still standing, is thought to be haunted, though no one walks its halls anymore... Rumor has it there's a new groundskeeper being hired, to take care of the old graveyard and garden, hopefully to bring some former glory back to the estate's decaying self...

[shibaraki]

TROU NORMAND ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

tags: GN reader, fantasy au, bakugo is a dragon shifter, desc. animal kill + blood, reader eats meat, alcohol consumption, fluff, courting behaviour, language barrier, hand feeding, unedited sry

wc: 1.2K

The firepit crackled violently in the distance. Your nose wrinkled at the familiar smell of death carried in with the draft.

“Bakugo?” you called, climbing out from the deeper, cramped section of the cave and heading toward the entrance. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, trinkets tied around each individual spike dangling above. Firelight flickered up the walls and glittered amongst them.

Bakugo has already tucked his wings away and settled into his skin. He is beautiful, as both a dragon and a man. Born into the world wearing a golden crown. He is large, in body and spirit, he is all dense muscle and spitfire, with eyes glowing crimson no matter what form he takes.

You’ve not been with him long but since learned his habits. Bakugo only ever took this form to prepare his kills, to carefully parse through the flesh and pick out the bones with lithe human fingers despite not needing to. You study him from the corner, his form muddied in blood and hunched over spilling viscera lost in concentration, and not for the first time, you think dazedly of the implications of that.

“What’s that?” you ask as you start towards him with a damp cloth.

He growls at your abrupt movement in his periphery, dragging the four legged carcass closer to his half clothed lap. His expression shifts. Every muscle pinched under the command of his instincts. “Oh, now you’re acting like a child,” you tell him, tiptoeing around the thin rivulets leaking into the cracks in the cave floor. His pupils dilate and shrink into thin slits, pulsing almost as you kneel beside him. “I’m not going to steal it. Really. Come here”.

A familiar noise reverberates through the empty space. It is a gentle warning. And yet it is inquisitive. Even like this the dragon deigned to use the human tongue. The odd inflections never quite fit in his mouth. Instead you’d speak while he listened and somehow conversation was hardly ever one sided. Never before had you met a person able to convey so much with the quirk of their brow alone, but Bakugo did exactly that, and often.

“Easy. Not so fearsome when you have food all over your mouth,” you turn his head, fingers splayed along his strong jaw, thumb curled over his chin. Bakugo allows this with a slow blink, another chuffing sound stuttering in his chest that he appears inwardly mortified at.

You take the damp cloth and wipe the drying blood from his cheeks. Fractures form and it flakes away, bit by bit. You repeat the notion until he is clean, and long after, just for the excuse to linger.

“There,” you murmur, satisfied as you sit back on your haunches. Your thumb brushed over his jutted bottom lip, pressing into the seam, seeing a flash of razor sharp teeth. “You needn’t hunt for me too, you know. There is a small town by the mountainside I could visit. I’m well enough now”.

By all rights you should have been torn apart in the unforgiving winter. Your memories of that night are hazy. Buried under sleet and snow, as your body had been when the dragon found you. You recall only the instant he took you delicately into his maw and carried you here, where you subsequently woke hours later, tucked into a soft crevice of his hoard.

Your icy heart thawed at his heavy handed kindness. You never did understand why he saved you, but you were grateful. There was nowhere for a person like you to return. So when he never discarded you, ate you or forced himself upon you, you remained.

Bakugo makes another terrible face. His wet fingers smear red streaks around your wrist and he tugs you to his side with the soft reluctance of someone who wants something but doesn't wish to admit they want it. “Okay, okay. I won’t. This is safer,” you concede, leaning into him. Your head tilts on the slope of his shoulder as the tension dissipates and he begins tending to the meat.

He always feeds you first. You accept the morsels one at a time, held to your lips between his thumb and forefinger, chewing it down to fine paste before swallowing. The staring while you eat no longer unnerve you. You merely try not to smile at how proud he looks after every pleased noise you make.

“This is good,” you say. “Do we have water left?”

You miss him the second he moves away, stretching toward a shallow alcove full of well crafted bottles. Bakugo hoarded the strangest things. Unlike the rest, this one in particular is half full. Definitely not water. Regardless he nudges it into your hand and drapes his arm around your lower back. Intricate designs are carved into the glass. Waves, shells, crudely depicted merfolk. You slowly bring the open top to your mouth, breathing in the sharp scent, and take a sip. It tastes of smokey peat fires, cured skins and winter; harsh against your palate and sawing your throat on the way down.

“Gods, that’s—strong!”

Bakugo’s nostrils flared. He withheld a laugh while you coughed, the neutral facade cracking as you playfully swipe at him. The scales smattered around his temples take on an iridescent blush and he grins handsomely. Heat licks at your face. Desire, longing, knot low in your belly and it aches like hunger. You’re certain Bakugo wouldn’t be tactile if he could help it. Over and over his hands have sought some part of your body, as if guided by afterthought, and every time he has looked at his hands in betrayal.

There’s some sick satisfaction in watching him be at war with himself—and in being the cause of it. You're still unsure whether he regards you as a pet to nurse or a true companion, if the there-and-gone touches over the past few weeks held meaning as they do for you. A selfish part of you doesn’t care what it means to him, so long as he doesn’t stop.

You eat in relative silence, sharing the remaining dregs of the—whatever he’d procured on his travels. Rum, you’d hazard a guess. With your stomach full and your limbs loose you slip from his shoulder into his lap, squirming a little as you get comfortable.

“Hey,” you murmured, turning to squash your cheek against his thick inner thigh. Bakugo peeks down at you, poised to take another sip. Hums as you bring his free hand to your head and he begins to pet you. “You’ve been taking care of me, all this time. Why? Doesn’t it burden you?”

You don’t miss the way Bakugo’s breathing hitches. The hand absently scratching at your scalp stilled for only a moment before resuming. He considers your words as he swigs, swallows, grasping for time to formulate an answer. Then he bends, agile spine curved like a bow to bring your faces closer. His eyes are determined, the hue somehow richer than before, and you shrink back from the warm breath that spills out from parted lips.

“No. Mine,” he rasps, nudging his nose against your cheek and your temple, like a beast might nuzzle the palm of their master. The palm crowning your head slips to firmly grip the back of your neck. “Stay”.

An encompassing feeling swells in your chest. Your throat becomes tight. The entire spectrum of human emotion floods to the very tips of your toes and you wonder if you never starved of touch before this simply because you hadn’t known what it meant to be sated.

You lift your chin to reciprocate. Fingers flex at your nape, wanting to keep you still but ultimately letting you rise. With little knowledge of the significance, you bump your noses together and echo, “Yes. Stay”.

[littlespideyhoe]

AVATRICE FANFIC AU RECS AO3

Enchanting - AtomicJellyb3an *harry potter au (MY FAVVV)

We were born sick - AtomicJellyb3an (might not be an au but its amazing read it pls)

Across the boulevard, she hears a hallelujah - potsticker1234 *spiderman au (incomplete)

Be my lover, don't play no game - simplykorra *hospital au

Stay there cause I'll be coming over (while our blood's still young) -britishngay *spiderman!ava & med student!beatrice (ANOTHER FAV)

I'm all yours, tell me all that you lost - leavethelighton *florist and tattoo artist au

The trials and tribulations of Snapchat - AtomicJellyb3an

Love thy neighbour - puppybusby *neighbour au

Hogwarts vs Ilvermony - Aemeth *quidditch au

Making recipes that are too difficult for me and more - sunsafe *youtuber & roomate au

too cold it's withdrawal - KaiteQgle *winter soldier!beatrice & captain america!ava

desperate times, desparate measures - AdeleDazeem *hickey au

These are all that I have really loved so far, hope this helped you guys :)

[wisekiwi123]

The S class that I raised vampire au: Prologue

( Hi everyone it's Kiwi, I will be officially writing this AU so please let me know if I make any mistakes since I am knew to writing fanfics. Hope you enjoy it )

original post for more info:

https://www.tumblr.com/wisekiwi123/747487646743396352/vampire-au-where-all-the-s-classes-are-vampires?source=share

***

“Happy birthday–”

“ Who hurt you hyung”

Yoojin paused as he watched his younger brother storm into the kitchen decorated with birthday decorations with a very sour look on his face. Ignoring the cake with eleven candles on the table Yoohyun began to expect the cast on his older brother's arm carefully, his frown becoming deeper with every second.

“There was a little accident at work today nothing too serious” Yoojin laughed nervously as he avoided direct eye contact with his brother  “ It will be healed in a few weeks anyway so how about we look at the birthday present I got you instead”

“ Hyung this is serious” Yoohyun shook his head “ Was it your co-workers again or maybe you taking on more dangerous jobs without telling me”

“I wouldn’t say dangerous—“

“So you are taking on more deadly jobs!” Yoohyun shouted before he started clenching his teeth tightly.

‘ His integration skills are getting better by the day’Yoojin lampooned to himself as Yoohyun continued to fret over his broken arm.

 It was true he was taking on more dangerous tasks but it was never anything he couldn’t handle. Being a vampire hunter was a very high-demanding job which often had well-paying quests that only a fool would miss out on. Besides it was his brother's birthday and he wanted to make it especially special so he may have taken on more rewarding jobs that were slightly harder than usual.

‘Even so, I should have been more careful’ Yoojin thought to himself as his free hand reached to pat his brother's hand.

 “It's because of me again isn’t…” Yoohyun whispered as his shoulders began to slump downwards “If I were born a normal human hyung would not have to work so hard. If I wasn’t a vampire hyung wouldn't  get hurt—

“Han Yoohyun that is enough” Yoojin firmly said with a solemn look on his face.“I told you before that I am not doing anything I don't want to do and you will never be a burden to me ever”

Yoojin’s hand reached out to pinch the side of Yoohyun’s cheek, he smiled largely as he spoke.

“I am your Big brother it's my job to look after you while it's your job to grow up well and live a good life. Sorry for making you worry  and I promise not to take risks on purpose”

“Promise  not  to take risks ever”

 “Ok now you're pushing it, I still need to make a living you know”

“Fine hyung but when I am older you will never have to work again since I will be strong enough  to protect you”

“Sounds like a plan but  make sure to study as well ok?”

Yoojin hugged Yoohyun as he laughed while Yoohyun smiled back slightly revealing a set of small fangs as he accepted his brother’s embrace.

“Now let me cut the cake after you blow out the candle ”

“Hyung no let me do it instead!”

“Fine if that's what the birthday boy wants”

The snow gently gathered by the window as the night sky remained starless as both brothers munched on cake. The red gift wrapping was discarded in the corner of the old kitchen’s bin along with some empty vials of blood.

The winter nights were often long but it was never lonely. Not on this practical night at least.

***

Small puffs of cold smoke escaped Yoojin's lips as he looked up at the starless night with nostalgia. Snow piled by his feet as he stood before humongous gates made of silver and gold which opened to a driveway that seemed to be freshly shovelled of any snow speck of snow.

Yoojin turned his eyes away from the sky to look directly at an obnoxiously grand mansion of substantial size at the end of the driveway. His gloved hand gripped a single piece of paper tightly as he swallowed dry spit.

‘I am sorry Yoohyun” Yoojin thought as he took a step past the gate

“Promises can only be kept if I see you again” He muttered dropping the the wrinkled paper on the frozen ground before taking large strides forward. A calculated risk the first of many.

The paper continues to lay upright and undisturbed on the snow. The words wanted vampire , dead and 50,000 are written in bold along with Han Yoohyun's face plastered right in the middle.

(next chapter is currently being made.Hope everyone has a great night/day )