#I am being told my hair is evil magic because i can sleep with it in a ponytail and not have a knotty mess in the morning

[aristrocrat]

Chapter 1

S2 Episode One

SUMMARY: Y/N discovers more about what Peter told her the night he died, choosing to keep some facts hidden. Lydia goes missing and the pack commences a full on search for the potential new werewolf.

WORD COUNT: 4670

TW: none besides the usual cursing lol :)

“Come back to bed,” You boyfriend whined, throwing his favorite pillow at you. You laughed and twirled in his desk chair to face him, only to notice he was already under the covers. “You didn’t come with us to look for Lydia and now you won’t even come to bed!”

“Okay, you say that like I had an option. My mom’s got me on strict house arrest ever since she found you in my room the other night. Also I think I found something,” You smiled before throwing back the pillow, making him groan. You’ve been actively scouring the internet for answers since the last conversation with Peter, especially now that you had a disgusting amount free time with your century-long grounding. Luckily, your mom typically worked the late night shifts so you were able to sneak Stiles in at midnight on most nights. “Can I just read this to you before we go to sleep? I’ll make it quick.”

“Nope,” He said nonchalantly. “Bed. Sleep. Now. We have to wake up early tomorrow and it’s already-”

“2:00 AM, I know,” You pouted, knowing it was his kryptonite. “Pleaseee.”

You heard a sigh and the creak of his bed before feeling his presence behind you after you twirled back to the computer. He crouched down and pressed his lips to your neck, making a shiver go down your spine.

“Fine. What did you find?” He asked, voice muffled into your hair. “You have five minutes to explain before I pick your ass up and take you to bed.”

“It says here that the Delvoux family was believed to be a long line of mages from France-”

“A mage?” Stiles perked up. “Isn’t that a witch?”

“Yeah, kinda! But anyways-“

“Does that mean you can cast spells and use magic?” He looked over at you with an excited look. “Because that would be awesome.”

“I doubt it but let me finish,” You laughed before kissing his cheek and reading on. “It says here that the Delvoux are infamously known for casting a spell on the Rowan tree in 1598, giving it the ability to scare off evil beings and create barriers against the supernatural.”

“Like wolfsbane?” He asked, pulling up another chair to sit next to you. He leaned forward to read on, staying silent for a few moments as his eyes scanned the page. “Wait, the Delvoux family created Mountain Ash?!”

“That’s not even the craziest part!” You scrolled down. “Listen to this, their descendants’ blood is said to be laced in mountain ash.”

“Okay so what does that mean?”

“It means, I’m basically untouchable by the supernatural,” Your tone was laced in excitement as you took off into another rant. “Well, kind of. My blood acts more like wolfsbane-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” Stiles stopped you. “How do you even know you’re a Delvoux? He could’ve just been saying this to put you in danger.”

“Apparently during the Salem witch trials, the Delvoux family was forced to change their surname in order to protect themselves,” You explained before looking over at him. “Stiles, they changed their name to Y/L/N.”

He narrowed his eyes in thought, staying silent for a moment before speaking up again.

“You think your Hogwarts letter got lost in the mail?” He joked.

“Fuck off,” You playfully shoved him, making him chuckle. “Read the second paragraph from the bottom.”

You watched as he subconsciously moved his lips as he read along, squinting ever so slightly to look at the small text before opting to read out loud.

“The Delvoux descendants’ blood is known to be poisonous to supernatural beings. If enough blood is shed, it’ll paralyze and eventually kill the attacker?!” He looked over at you. You nodded. “In very rare cases, those who have managed to spill a lethal amount of fresh Delvoux blood are cured. They no longer possess any sort of supernatural abilities and are by all accounts human.”

“So if a supernatural being manages to kill me, and somehow my blood doesn’t kill them, they’re cured,” You summed up.

“Yes, thank you, Sherlock,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I got it the first time.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” You giggled. “There’s a way to test if I really am one.”

“How?” He questioned. You smirked. “Oh god. Is it bad?”

———

“What do you mean you want a drop of my blood?” Scott furrowed his brows as he closed his locker. “No! That’s so fucking weird. Even for you.”

“What do I have to do to convince you?” You rolled your eyes.

“What are you gonna do with it?” He asked carefully.

“I already told you! A science experiment.”

“I can literally hear your heart speed up, dumbass. What’s the real reason?” He turned to walk toward the parking lot.

“Give me your blood and I’ll tell you,” You smiled sweetly. He scoffed and walked off. “Scott! Please! I-.. Ooh! I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“A month,” He turned around.

“Two weeks,” You bargained.

“And you have to clean my room tonight,” He raised his brow.

“Deal,” You stuck out your hand. He reluctantly shook it. “Anyways, how’re things going with the secret girlfriend, lover boy?”

“Shh! Keep it down, would you?“ He hissed before frantically looking around. “How did you know?”

“No one! I figured it out on my own,” You said. “I saw you sneak into a classroom together the other day.”

“It was Stiles, wasn’t it?” He deadpanned.

“You know, I don’t appreciate the whole listening to my heartbeat thing,” You scowled. “But in his defense, he didn’t tell me about it until last night when I asked, and I had to beg him to tell me. I’m only asking because I wanted to make sure you were okay after everything that went down with her dad.”

“Oh,” He responded softly. “Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for asking. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was trying to keep it under wraps.”

“So you told Stiles?” You chuckled.

“No, he actually did see us sneak into a classroom,” Scott laughed. “I’m actually surprised he didn’t tell you sooner.”

“GUYS!” Stiles squeaked as he ran over to the two of you, practically shoving people out of the way as he approached. “I think I have something about the Lydia case! My dad told me that there was a grave robbery last night. Get this, normally they steal jewelry. Last night, they stole a dead lady’s liver.”

“She ate the liver?” Scott’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“No, I didn’t say she ate it. I just said it was missing,” Stiles shook his head. “And you know what? Even if she did, so what? It’s the most nutritious part of the body.”

“Yeah, but it’s also a dead woman’s liver,” Your face scrunched up in disgust.

“I never ate anyone’s liver,” Scott challenged.

“Yeah, right, ‘cause when it comes to werewolves, you’re a real model of self-control,” Stiles muttered. You walked behind them and almost ran into him with the way he came to a stop. “Actually, wait- hold on. You’re the test case for this so we should be going over what happened to you.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I mean like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know? What were you drawn to?”

“Oh, I bet I can answer this one,” You finally spoke up with a smirk. They both looked at you. “Allison. He couldn’t stay away from her. Hell, he still can’t.”

“She’s right,” Scott shrugged.

“Allison. Okay, nothing else? Seriously?” He groaned.

“Nothing else mattered,” Scott confessed.

“Maybe we can start with Jackson?” You offered. “She was looking for him all night. And she never stops talking about him. It’s gotta be him. Maybe you guys can catch him in the locker room and talk to him.”

“Like he’ll wanna talk to us,” Scott huffed.

“Okay, then threaten him,” You said simply, earning two very amused smiles. “What? It worked last time.”

“That’s my girl!” Stiles praised, wrapping his arm around you and rubbing your arm with pride.

“Jesus Christ. You’re rubbing off on her, dude,” Scott laughed before turning to walk into the school.

“Oh my god. Take that back!” You called, making Stiles use the hand he previously held up to playfully and gently shove you. “I’m kidding! Aww, Stiles don’t walk away. I was joking!”

————

“This is a pop quiz, Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris’ voice boomed through the room, making you jump. You turned to look over at your boyfriend on the other side of the room who stared at the teacher with wide eyes. “If I hear your voice again, I may be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career.”

“Can you do that?” He asked sarcastically, making you chuckle quietly.

“Well, there it is again. Your voice. Triggering the only impulse I’ve ever had to strike a student repeatedly and violently,” Mr. Harris said. “I’ll see you at 3:00 for detention.”

Your jaw dropped as you caught Scott’s surprised gaze.

“Mr. McCall. Miss Y/L/N. Look over again and you’ll be joining him.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott mumbled.

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your quiz, mentally cursing out the teacher that had a personal vendetta against Stiles. You knew he was holding Sheriff Stilinski’s previous accusations against his son. You looked up once more to see your friend group working vigilantly on the quiz before beginning your own. You were about halfway through when you noticed someone in the corner of your eyes stand up. You looked over and saw Jackson holding his nose before running out of the room. The teacher shot Danny a questioning look.

“Nose bleed,” He responded.

“Oh, no problem. Continue your quizzes, class. Remember, this is timed!”

————

“You coming to the funeral?” Scott asked as you walked out of the school with him.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to go because of Allison’s dad?” You furrowed your brow.

“Has he ever stopped us from doing anything?” He smirked.

“Yeah,” You deadpanned. “Like a lot of things actually.”

“No, we just found new ways of doing them!” Scott rolled his eyes. “You think you can sneak out of the house to come?”

You sighed and looked over at your mom’s car before looking back at Scott.

“I don’t know. That woman is currently reigning with an iron fist. She’s been watching me like a hawk since she caught Stiles sleeping in my bed the other day,” You shook your head. “I’ll try but no promises.”

“Let me talk to her,” He smiled before marching over to the vehicle.

“Scott, wait! I don’t think it’s a very good idea to ask her!” You chased after him before he turned over his shoulder and took off into a sprint. “SCOTT I SWEAR TO-“

“Hey, Scotty!“ Your mother greeted as she opened her window.

“Hi, Y/M/N! How are you?“ He smiled as you caught up to him.

“Good,” She narrowed her eyes. “The answer is no to whatever you were gonna ask. She’s grounded.”

“It’s just to Kate’s funeral. We’re getting Allison’s friends together for emotional support,” He explained. “I’ll have her back home as soon as it’s done!”

“Now why couldn’t have you just dated Scott?” She looked over at you. “See, he’s a respectful and thoughtful young man! I know damn well he wouldn’t be lingering in your bed at a questionable hour of the night. If Stiles abided by Scott’s moral code, maybe you wouldn’t be grounded right now.”

You shot her a look of annoyance and bit your tongue, not wanting to say anything that might upset her. Scott shifted uncomfortably at the tense silence.

“I’ll think about it,” She finally said.

“Thank you,” Scott smiled. “I gotta go get ready, but, uh, just shoot me a text if you wanna walk there together.”

“Yeah, will do,” You pursed your lips before he walked off. You walked over to the passenger’s side, threw your backpack in the back, and got in.

“No smart remark? You must really wanna go,” Your mom said as she put the car in drive. “Scott’s single now, right?”

“Yes, Mom. He’s single,” You lied.

“I might even consider ungrounding you if you broke up with your boyfriend and went on a date with him instead,” She sighed, sparking an idea in your mind.

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, making her smile. She was oblivious to the light bulb that just went off in your mind.

“Yes, really.”

“Noted,” You nodded, sitting back in your seat and pulling out your phone to text Scott.

Y/N: meet me at my house in hour

———

“Hey, so she let you go?” Scott asked as he walked up to your porch, noticing your black dress.

“Yeah,” You nodded, patting the porch swing as an invitation to sit next to you.

“Is everything alright? Your mom seems..”

“Intolerable and rude?” You suggested. “You can call her a bitch. It’s okay.”

“You said it, not me,” He chuckled, making you smile as you looked at your shoes. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. She’s just been weird with the whole divorce thing,” You shrugged. “She said she’d consider ungrounding me if I broke up with Stiles and went on a date with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” He furrowed his brows.

“Okay, but what if we did?” You looked up with a smile, making his eyes widen. “What if we-”

“Woah, um, listen Y/N- Stiles is really into you and I’m in a relationship with-“

“What? No! Listen,” You turned to face him. “What if we pretended to be in a relationship? It would get her off my ass and the Argents off of yours. I mean we obviously have to talk it through with Stiles and Al but I think it might work out in our best interest if we played pretend. This way we can hide behind a fake relationship so that we can actually be in our real ones.”

“Oh, thank God,” He breathed. “I thought you were going to profess your love or something.. That’s actually not a bad idea. Yeah, let’s talk to them tonight. It might break your dad’s heart though. I don’t know who’s more in love with Stiles; you or him.”

“Oh, a hundred percent him,” You laughed before you stood up and extended your hand to help him up. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m ready,” He smirked, taking your hand slowly before you swatted him away with disgust. “Wait, babe! We can fix this!”

“Fuck off!” You squealed as he ran behind you with extended arms. “Scott, get away! I’m serious!”

“Snookins! I don’t wanna go to bed angry!” He laughed as he picked you up from behind. “Forgive me, sugar cheeks!”

“EW!” You laughed as you jumped out of arms. Your foot landed on a wet patch of dry grass and slipped out from under you, making you fall and skid your knee on the nearby sidewalk. You yelped and shifted your weight to allow you to sit down.

“Oh shit!” Scott gasped before running to your side. “Are you okay? Y/N, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay! I’m okay,” You breathed with a smile. “It’s just a little scrape. Don’t get too close. I-”

“No, you’re actually bleeding pretty bad,” He winced as he looked at your knee. Your stomach drop with anxiety at the possibility what effect your blood might have on him. “Want me to..”

He blinked before clumsily taking a seat next to you. “Fuck, I just got lightheaded.”

“Scotty, are you-..” Your eyes widened at the realization; your blood was toxic to him. You felt your heart race slightly as you looked down at your knee. It was bleeding, sure, but it was nothing crazy. If this small amount of blood was enough to make him dizzy, you didn’t want to imagine how much it would take to have a bad effect on him. You quickly stood up and limped back. “Let me get you a bottle of water and clean this up real quick.”

“No, no. Sit down, I’ll go inside and-“ He began to push himself up, shaking his head to clear his vision.

“Scott, I’m fine! I’ll be right back,” You said quickly before limping back up your porch stairs and to your door. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Honey, what are you- oh my god, your knee!” Your mom gasped from the kitchen before rushing up to you. “What happened?”

“I tripped. It’s not as bad as it looks, can you run a bottle of water out to Scott? He’s a little light headed from the blood. I’m gonna clean this off and wrap it. I’ll be out in a second,” You explained. She nodded before disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with the first aid kit and a bottle of water. “Thanks.”

“No problem, holler if you need me. I’m gonna check on Scott,” She responded before she walked outside.

You worked quick, wincing as the disinfectant entered wound and noticing that it was a lot smaller than you expected. You finished up within a couple of minutes before going back outside to see Scott standing and chatting as if nothing happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Your mother furrowed her brows, checking his pupils with a light to rule out a concussion.

“I’m sure,” He chuckled before turning to you. “Hey, how’s the knee?”

“Oh it was pretty small, it was just a bleeder,” You smiled. “We’re gonna go, Mom. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Let me drive you,” She began before seeing the look on your face. “You know what? If your knee is alright to drive, take the car. I don’t want either of you falling on the way. Keys are in the ignition.”

“Really?” You smiled, earning a nod. “Thank you!”

“Be careful!” She called as she walked back into the house. You limped slightly to the car and waited for Scott to hop it to turn it on. You both sat in silence as the engine roared to life and you backed out. You were well aware that he knew something was up. Even if he wasn’t able to hear the sound of your racing heart and smell the anxiety that you radiated, he knew you to your core. He knew your mannerisms and the way you acted when you were hiding something from him.

“Do I wanna know?” He asked.

“Good question,” You chuckled nervously as you sped down the familiar roads of Beacon Hills. The drive to the cemetery was only a couple of minutes from your house.

“Y/N,” He tilted his head in annoyance. “What’s going on with you? You’re constantly spaced out and you’ve been so distant. Then today you ask me for a drop of blood? Obviously it has to do with-“

“Okay!” You burst out, causing his lips to seal. “Fine. Look, I found out that my ancestors created Mountain Ash. I know how crazy that sounds and I wasn’t sure if it until I saw you get light headed.. but the lineage has it in their blood. And it acts kinda like wolfsbane,” You sighed. “It’s toxic to the supernatural.”

“I’ve been around wolfsbane. It doesn’t do that,” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s a lot to it that I don’t even know yet,” You admitted before pausing. “There’s a lot to it that I haven’t even told Stiles about.”

“.. Why?” He asked as you pulled into one of the cemetery’s parking lots. You thought carefully about your words, not wanting to give too much away but also not wanting to lie. You parked the car and sighed before turning to him.

“I found a lot of information and I don’t know what’s true or false. A lot of it is really cool but there’s some shit in there that..” You trailed off. “I just didn’t want to scare you before I knew all of the facts is all.”

“Oh.. Okay, well I won’t push you to talk about anything you’re not ready to tell me. Just know I can keep a secret and a level head. I’m always here for you. You know that,” He reassured. You smiled and hopped out of the car, wincing a bit from the impact. You locked the car and began walking towards him, giving him a hug.

“Thanks, Scotty,” You mumbled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

“Of course,” He replied, lingering in the hug before pulling away. “We should go. The funeral’s starting soon.”

“Okay, let’s go hide behind a tombstone so we can get up close,” You giggled before walking off.

“I like the way your mind works,” He responded before following you through the woods. You both ran up to a tombstone, careful to avoid any eyes or cameras and watched from a distance. You shot a smile to Allison as she sat down with her family before an old man wandered in. You quickly realized he was an Argent with the way he made his presence known; taking one of the cameramen’s SIM card and hugging the family.

“Who is that?” You whispered. He held up a finger as he listened to the conversation that unfolded between the Argents.

“Yo,” You heard your boyfriend run up to you before feeling his kiss against your temple. You smiled before getting a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Hide,” You pushed them back, barely avoiding the family’s gaze. They both looked at you with wide eyes before you nodded, giving them the okay to peek again.

“Who the hell is that?” Stiles whispered, choosing to put a pin in his witch comment.

“He’s definitely an Argent,” Scott responded before listening in again. Allison looked over and smiled softly at the lot of you.

“Hey, you know, maybe they’re just here for the funeral. I mean, what if they’re the non-hunting side of the family?” Stiles suggested. “There could be non-hunting Argents. That’s possible, right?”

“I know what they are,” Scott looked back at him.

“Reinforcements,” You pursed your lips before seeing the two boys beside you suddenly get pulled back.

“The three of you. Unbelievable,” Sheriff Stilinski growled. Your face scrunched up at his disappointment as you picked up his tie.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m supposed to ask,” Stiles muttered as he led the three of you back to his car.

You all sat through his lecture that proceeded with a deafening silence. You sighed and ran your hands up and down your thighs, deep in thought about your gut feeling, hoping it was nothing more than a coincidence before Stiles placed his hand over your own. You looked up at him and smiled.

You okay? He mouthed, earning a reassuring smile and nod that he didn’t quite buy.

“4-1-5 Adam,” The radio chattered, making your eyes widen in recognition.

“Disturbance in a car,” You muttered.

“Atta girl! You’re starting to pick up on these now,” Stiles grinned, speaking quietly.

“I’m sorry, did you say 4-1-5 Adam?” The sheriff clarified.

“They we’re taking a heart attack victim DOA. But on the way to the hospital, something hit ‘em.”

“What, hit the ambulance?”

“Copy that. I’m standing in front of it right now. Something got in the back. There’s blood everywhere,” The voice continued as your boyfriend curiously leaned forward with a look of concern. “And I mean everywhere.”

You looked over at him and to the door, signaling an exit. He nodded before the three of you slid out and ran towards his Jeep. You drove into the dusk, looking for the ambulance. Once you finally found it, Stiles parked a few hundred feet away before you all got out and made your way towards the scene.

“What the hell is Lydia doing?” Stiles questioned as you all hid behind a small hill a close distance away.

“I don’t know,” Scott said.

“What kept you from doing that? Was it Allison?” You breathed, catching glimpse of the bloody interior of the emergency vehicle.

“I hope so,” Scott muttered.

“Do you need to get closer?” Stiles anxiously sighed. Scott sniffed the air before responding.

“No, I got it.”

“Scott,” You shook your head, feeling your heart clench. The boys looked over at you, worried about the words that followed your somber tone. “Just.. I just need you to find her. Please just.. just find her.”

“I will,” He nodded, patting your back before getting up again.

“Hey, she’ll be alright. I know this is scary, but I have faith she’s okay,” Stiles whispered. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at the ambulance. “Hey, hey, look at me. I think we’ve seen enough for a lifetime’s worth of nightmares.”

“Stiles, I.. How are you holding it together so well?” You blinked away the tears in your eyes. “It’s like one big blow after the other. Peter, then the whole stupid fucking witch thing, and Lydia missing-“

“I’m so not holding my cool right now,” He chuckled sweetly, caressing your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. “I’m dying of anxiety at all times. But.. I don’t know. Something about having you around kind of makes it to where I can breathe again.”

“Sti,” You smiled before leaning fully into his embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He chuckled, feeling the familiar warm sensation spread in his chest at your words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you say that.”

“I’ll just have to say it like a billion more times then,” You giggled.

“A billion?” He laughed. “That’ll take you a lifetime.”

“I mean-”

“STILES!” Sheriff Stilinski shouted into the woods, making you both duck. “I saw you, dumb ass. Get out here. Now!”

“Damn it,” He clenched his eyes in frustration before pushing himself off of the ground. You both scrambled to get up and walk over to him. He stood there with his arms crossed and a stern glare that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Do my lectures mean absolutely nothing to you guys?” He scolded, making the awful feeling in your chest multiply. “Do you understand that we have a potential kidnapping murderer on the loose? Do your lives really mean that little to you?!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stilinski,” You shook your head, trying to clear it of the anxiety. There was now a buzz in your right ear.

“It’s not her fault, Dad. I just-“

“Oh, I know it’s not her fault, son. You and I are going to have a serious conversation about your inquisitiveness and ability to drag your best friend and girlfriend into the worst possible situations!” He shouted. You knew he was speaking at a loud level, but the buzzing got louder as he continued. You winced and covered your right ear. They continued to talk as your eyes closed from the noise.

“Hey, you good?” You heard Stiles say before feeling a grab at your shoulder.

“Lydia,” You whispered subconsciously. “She’s near.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” He stumbled before your head looked over to the woods. And there she stood. Naked and shivering. “Oh my god. Lydia..”

You suddenly snapped back to reality, seeing the face of utter disbelief on your boyfriend’s face before jogging over to her as you took off the coat your borrowed from him. You quickly wrapped her in it, shielding her body from the wandering looks of the men behind you and pushing away the thought of the conversation you weren’t quite ready to have with Stiles; the truth about everything you’ve learned. He was bound to ask about everything later.

“Here. Take this,” You whispered before hugging her. She gladly fell into your arms, shivering violently. “You’re okay. I got you.”

“Thank you,” Her voice shook before wrapping her arms around you and letting out a sob. “Thank you.”

Chapter 2 ->

———

As always, please like and reblog if you liked this chapter! I love to hear from you guys!! Leave a comment or DM me if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

OH MY GOD!! I’M BACK, BABY!!

i’m so sorry it’s taken so long to finallyyy begin season two! it took me weeks to figure out where to take this story and even longer to write this chapter but besties i got a lot in store for this season!! I MISSED YOU GUYS AND I MISSED OUR MANS!!

from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so so much for all of the love and support! ilyilyilyily! i wrote a small Peter Parker fanfic and you guys should check it out if you’re into Spiderman. probably my best work yet!

I PLAN ON POSTING A CHAPTER A WEEK!!

@okay-j-hannah @mitchloveswriting @itscheybaby @cevans-winchester @moon-child @rrrogertaylor @janalustare @loveangelic69 @angelxfics @blueberry-birdie @kaii-ya @rebelbagel @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @ifilwtmfc @dianewowslt @aloha-lush @crockercorpbakers @taysirene @take-me-to-ny @captainfrisbee @darkenwolfie @stilesbxtch @youaintabadbitchyoujustabitch @raynelbabe @michellebarista

(I know I am missing a lot of tags! I lost the new list so please please comment if you’d like to be tagged!)

[kpopfanfictrash]

Ember Burning (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for this MOODBOARD WOO!

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Fantasy / Dragon / Enemies to Lovers

Synopsis:  The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook.

NSFW Warnings: oral (male and female), nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, big cock, dirty talk, hair pulling (her to him).... tattooed, man-bun jungkook who has a big sword

Trigger Warnings: somewhat graphic depiction of a shoulder injury  

Word Count: 36,079

Soaring through azure-colored sky, golden wheat fields spread out below, you could almost convince yourself duty did not exist. It was easy to pretend while disconnected from the ground – flight broke the strings which bound you to all mortal beings. You ceased to be of flesh and bone and instead became one with the air, the wind, and the wildness of flame in your throat.

The Thadal mountain range loomed ahead, its jagged peaks piercing the sky. Idly, you wondered if they truly did. Legends said Natal, who had created the world and everything in it, formed the Thadal range last of all. Exhausted by the sheer effort of creation, her hand had slipped, causing the tallest of peaks to rise higher than planned. This ripped a hole in the veil which guarded this world from the next and before Natal could fix it, magic slipped through.

It had been the dragons who slumbered in the mountains’ highest peaks who received this blessing.

Dipping a wing, you wheeled about in the air. With the sun at your back, you surveyed the splendor of your realm laid beneath you.

Ashya, land of the Dragons – of which you were Queen.

Stifling the sigh which rose at the thought, you turned from the furthest rim of the world and began the flight home. A return to duty, to obligation and to your human form, as well as the conflict which loomed on the horizon. Not to mention the sleeping King within your castle walls.

Each of these weighed upon your shoulders, replacing the freedom you’d felt in the air. As you shifted to human, donned a gown, and entered the castle, the sun had barely risen above the lip of the world.

And your true day was only beginning.

From the thunderous expression on Park Jimin’s face, it was clear you needed to do something, and quickly.

Your choices were either to interject and stop a second war from breaking out at your table or sit back and watch while King Jungkook was pummeled into the ground by the esteemed commander of your armed forces.

Admittedly, the second option was tempting. You would so dearly love to watch the crown knocked from King Jungkook’s perfect tresses, but pettiness was unbecoming when far greater evil lurked on the horizon.

With a wave of your hand, you signaled Jimin to sit back.

The remark which had so enflamed your commander came from one of Jungkook’s advisors, a Lord Kim Seokjin you’d only met once prior. He had insinuated, in so many words, the power of your kind was nothing more than a parlor trick. Something to be taken out at parties, but incapable of truly defending your realm.

Jimin’s steely gaze remained fixed on the Lord, a thin line of steam rising from the seat where he sat. It was never wise to anger a Dragon, especially not a renowned fighter like Jimin. There was a reason he’d been named the youngest commander in over a century, and it was only partly because your people had dwindled in size since the last Dragon War.

The Dragon Wars were the reason it was truly remarkable for you to sit in the same room as King Jeon Jungkook at all. Only a hundred years had passed – barely a blink, in the grand scheme of things – since your nations had been labeled bitter enemies.

Duret Ghal, Jeon Jungkook’s nation, was home to the fierce dragon riders. Warriors who tamed the dull, vicious beasts of the mountains and rode them into battle. Their riders were human, although they fancied themselves important because they dared to treat dragons – albeit a less intelligent kind than your own – as glorified steeds.

You, on the other hand, were a Dragon.

Not one like what King Jungkook rode into battle. Duret Ghal bonded with dragons, mere animals ungifted by magic and unable to transform into humans. You were a Dragon, descended from the first magical beings blessed by the veil. Those who had shifted to the flesh of their enemy to defeat humans on their own terms.

At will, you could shift from human to Dragon with barely a thought. Beneath your smooth, human exterior lurked the scales of a dragon, and Lord Seokjin would do well to remember this while he sat at your table.

Tilting your head, you looked his way. “Would you care to repeat yourself, Lord Seokjin? The way you phrased your objection just now made it sound as though you were doubting my people.”

Although Lord Seokjin hesitated, he met your gaze. This surprised you. Few humans had the courage to look a grown Dragon in the eyes. You were well-aware of the rumors which plagued your people.

Some insisted Dragons held power beyond that of humans. This was untrue, of course. Aside from their shifting, Dragons could not use magic. It was only the offspring of a Dragon and human who could wield magic, often called gifts.

Then there was the rumor Dragons retained scales in places best left unmentioned when they transformed into humans – also untrue. Once you became human, you were nearly indistinguishable from your more stagnant counterparts. The main differences were your skin, which ran hotter, the occasional steam from your lips and hidden embers which flickered in the depths of your gaze.

Your unusual eyes were likely the source of the third rumor. Looking a grown Dragon in the eyes would result in paralysis, or worse. This was also untrue, although you liked to encourage it all the same.

It made meeting human dignitaries much more amusing.

“I am not saying Dragons are not fierce,” Seokjin said, backtracking a little. “Merely observing your numbers have diminished since the last Dragon War. Without Duret Ghal’s riders, you would be at a disadvantage against the Mor Empire.”

To this, you had no response because Lord Seokjin was right. He had easily identified your current problem – Mor continued to press upon your southern border, and there were not enough Dragons left in Ashya to defend it much longer.

To your right, Jimin scowled, knowing the truth to this as well.

It was the main reason you’d decided to meet with King Jungkook at all. The reason you considered entering an alliance with a country who’d once been considered your enemy. The Empire of Mor, a nation of humans, had recently decided to rid themselves of all dragons.

This declaration placed both your nation, Ashya, and Jungkook’s at risk.

Ashya, since you were Dragons and Duret Ghal because they rode them. The Mor Empire was led by Emperor Cyan, whose quest for dominance had consumed him since he was a child. His Empire had already gobbled up the quiet Kingdom of Mica to the west and Kindare, to the south. Now he’d set his eyes on the northern wilds.

His largest obstacle to this was the dragons. Few human soldiers could keep from shitting their pants when a great, winged beast breathing fire rose above their ranks. Ironically enough, the sole reason the Mor Empire stood a chance was because the number of Dragons had greatly diminished over the centuries.

There were two main reasons for this.

The first were the Dragon Wars – centuries of bloody conflict between Ashya and Duret Ghal. During this period, dragon riders had fought Dragons for control of the northern border. The wars had caused untold damage on both sides until a truce had been called to save you from destruction.

The second reason for your diminishing numbers were the humans themselves. In order for a true Dragon to be born, two Dragons needed to mate and continue to bloodline. When a Dragon mated with a human, the resulting child was human. Occasionally, this child was blessed with a magical gift, but not always – and they could not shift into Dragon form. Over the years, your kind had mingled with humans until there were few Dragons left.

Hence the need to align yourself with your greatest foe to protect both your people and his. You needed numbers, which Jungkook had. Emperor Cyan had declared war against all northern realms. Only the might of riders and Dragons together stood a chance against him.

It was a mission of fools though, made even more evident by the blatant ill-will around the table. Releasing a sigh, you glanced to where your most trusted advisor, Min Yoongi, was seated on your right.

Min Yoongi was not a Dragon, but a human born with a gift. He could read the emotions of those in the room and determine whether they told the truth. It was magic he’d inherited from his Dragon mother and had come in handy many times during the negotiations.

Subtle, Yoongi nodded.

You managed to stop a second sigh from escaping. It seemed Lord Seokjin was telling the truth. He truly did respect the Dragons, which made his second statement all the more troubling. It would have been easier had he hated you.

“We may be at a disadvantage without Duret Ghal,” you admitted. “But you are equally disadvantaged without Ashya. If our realm were to fall, Mor would come for you next.”

“We could have this same argument for hours, Your Majesty,” Jungkook drawled, speaking up for the first time. “And we have. I grow tired of this stalemate. What are the terms you require to sign the treaty?”

Jaw tight, your gaze shifted to the King seated opposite. Jungkook stared back at you, his gaze dark and lidded in the flickering light of the fire.

Jeon Jungkook was a young ruler, like yourself, but while your transition of power had been relatively peaceful, his had been anything but.

The former King and Queen of Duret Ghal had been slain by his Uncle, Lord Vonner, when Jungkook was only eighteen. Duret Ghal had been close to signing a treaty with Ashya at the time. In said treaty, your hand in marriage had been promised to Jungkook in exchange for unified lands.

Obviously, opposition had existed on both sides of the treaty, but things had not turned violent until Lord Vonner. He’d risen against his sister and brother-in-law, killing them both in their sleep and claiming the throne. At the same time, he had sent assassins to your land and attempted to kill your parents.

He’d only succeeded in killing your mother.

The blood of Lord Vonner’s actions had ended your betrothal, throwing your lands into chaos while your father roared his revenge. It was only once Jungkook had usurped and executed his Uncle that your land had tentatively agreed not to retaliate in force.

This had taken place nearly ten years ago, and still Jungkook was not yet thirty years of age. His youthfulness was apparent everywhere but his eyes. These had been hardened, darkened by all he had seen and done.

Looking at him now, it was difficult to place the boy you had once known.

“Use of your ports,” you answered. “Free travel for Ashyan merchants along the roads to said ports, and then usage without the current fees.”

Lord Seokjin chuckled. “You must be mad.”

A low growl left Jimin’s throat – a warning. “How ironic to hear you speak of sanity, Lord Seokjin,” he said. “When you dare to insult the Queen of Ashya within her castle walls.”

Holding up at hand, you bade Jimin to cease.

Jimin was even younger than you were, and twice as hot-headed. Admittedly, he had good reason to despise Duret Ghal. His father had been killed in a skirmish on the northern border when he was barely twelve. There was a subset of Ghalians who despised the humans who dared to love Dragons. When a Ghalian woman had fled, seeking the protection of Ashya at the northern border, a mob had fought your soldiers and Jimin’s father had died.

Still, Jimin needed to remember you had a job to do. As your commander, he was well-aware of the weakened state of your armed forces. The treaty between Ashya and Duret Ghal needed to happen in whatever way possible.

Ignoring the interaction, Jungkook merely raised a brow. “No fees?”

Although his voice remained calm, a hint of steel lay beneath the silken words. You could hear it plainly, as did Yoongi based on the way he stiffened.

“No fees,” you repeated.

Jungkook exchanged a glance with Seokjin.

“It is not possible,” he said at last. “Our nation’s ports remain the primary source of income for many Ghalians. Now that Mor has conquered Kindare, they have free access to their ports and fail to use ours. It is only the revenue from Ashya which keeps up afloat.”

“I do not ask you to forsake all payments. Merely those from Ashya.”

Jungkook’s teeth flashed in what might have been a smile but came off as a grimace.

“Ashya provides half the sales at my docks,” he informed you. “By granting your nation free trade, you cut my people’s livelihood in half.”

Somewhat chastised by this, you sat back in your seat. You had not realized Duret Ghal’s economic outlook was so dire.

When Ashya had been a land of only Dragons, the fact you were landlocked had not been a problem. You could simply fly where you wanted and take whatever with. Now though, Ashya had more humans than Dragons and you were forced to find more accommodating solutions.

Ashyan craftspeople were famed for their metalwork, in addition to textiles, but such trade would be useless without people to buy and places to sell. For years, Duret Ghal had steadily increased their tariffs, which in turn had steadily crippled your people.

Returning to Jungkook, you clenched your jaw. “And what would we need to give Duret Ghal in order for our demand to be met?”

The corner of his lip curled.

In this singular motion, you were reminded of Jungkook’s somewhat brutal reputation. After the coup of his Uncle, rumor had it Jungkook had been bloodthirsty in his quest for revenge. Lord Vonner had been put to death in the main square of their capital city, roasted alive by Jungkook’s dragon, Nemrys.

You had not faulted him for this at the time, having also lost people at the hands of Lord Vonner. It was hard to imagine the type of pain Jungkook had gone through, losing both his parents and his throne in a single blow. Despite your understanding, you knew some had disapproved. They’d whispered amongst themselves the King had lost a better part of himself on that day.

“Shares in your mines,” Jungkook said in answer to your question. “Given the current situation with Mor, we’ve had difficulty collecting on some of our foreign loans. A fifty percent share in Ashya’s mines would ease our cash flow problems.”

Your lips tightened in response.

Jungkook had managed to touch upon Ashya’s main source of riches, and a large reason for the previous century’s Dragon Wars. Much of the Thadal range fell within your borders, meaning you owned the majority of gemstones on the continent. It meant little without Duret Ghal’s port cities, however. Mor had ceased trading with Ashyan merchants long ago.

Still, it pained you to grant Jungkook access to your most coveted resource. Everything in your nature – Dragon and otherwise – went against it, but sacrifices must be made for the greater good. You’d entered these negotiations aware this might happen. Another advisor, Lord Kim Namjoon, had warned you of it beforehand and yet, you had hoped.

If you did not find a compromise soon though, Mor would overtake you and the point would be moot.

“Ten percent,” you said at last, lifting your chin.

Jungkook’s eyes gleamed. “Forty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty.”

Jungkook paused, then glanced at Seokjin for counsel. Bending close to the table, Seokjin scribbled something on a piece of paper and sighed. Looking at Jungkook, he nodded.

“Twenty,” Jungkook said, facing you.

You nodded, but before Jungkook could get too cocky, you held up a hand.

“In return,” you said. “All fees will be waived on Ashyan merchants.”

Jungkook stilled, a lone muscle ticking in his jaw. “I can lower the tariff to a flat rate of two and a half percent, but no more.”

The current tariffs on Ashyan merchants ranged from three to eight percent. Two and a half would benefit all Ashyan merchants, but you were uncertain if Jungkook had more to give. Possibly he was low-balling you, unwilling to show all his cards at once.

Glancing at Yoongi, you watched him slowly shake his head. No, the King was not lying.

Blinking, you returned to Jungkook. You had not expected him to show his hand so quickly. Perhaps he also tired of these negotiations. Gaze narrowed, you attempted to read the young King at the other end of the table.

His face remained blank, as inscrutable as your own. A shiver of something traveled down your spine, although you quickly pushed this away.

“We can accept this,” you said.

Jungkook nodded. “Then we are in agreement.”

Pushing your chair back, you stood from the table. “I think we have made enough progress for today. Lord Namjoon will draw up revisions for the treaty.”

Lord Namjoon nodded, near the center of the table. He was also a Dragon, although he rarely saw battle. Namjoon’s talents lay elsewhere, mainly in crafting legislation which aimed to avoid war in the first place. You could not afford to lose a mind like his to some border skirmish.

As you turned around, the skirts of your gown swept the floor. You’d nearly made it to the door when a firm hand caught your arm.

“A moment, Your Majesty,” Jungkook said, his voice low.

Going utterly still, your gaze shifted to his hand on your sleeve. Glancing up, you wished you truly had the power to turn humans to stone. It would have made these proceedings much easier.

Jungkook had dressed casually for the meeting. He seemed to have come straight from his dragon, since he wore riding leathers. He had no crown, unlike you. Amara, your lady in waiting, had insisted you add the thin, silver diadem before leaving. It lent you an air of authority, she’d said.

It seemed Jungkook could command his authority without such trinkets. The realization made you straighten, meeting his gaze several inches above yours.

“Yes?” you said, your voice frosty.

Jungkook released his grip.

A move you thought wise, all things considered. Behind him, you saw your advisors gathering their reams of paper. They chatted amongst themselves, purposefully ignoring the Ghalian retinue. All except for Lord Namjoon, who spoke politely to Lord Seokjin about a provision of the treaty.

To Lord Seokjin’s right sat Kim Taehyung, a dragon rider whose reputation preceded him. The general of Duret Ghal’s army, he had remained silent throughout the entirety of the negotiations. Based on how often he looked out the window, you got the feeling he preferred to spend his time in the sky and not amongst stuffy people.

Honestly, you could not blame him. Even if his kind of flying were a poor imitation of yours – seated astride a dragon, rather than becoming one himself.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook returned your attention to him.

“Is there something you want, Your Majesty?” you said, growing impatient. “I have a nation to run outside of these meetings, you know.”

A smile curled his lips. “I am aware.”

“So long as you are aware, then.”

You moved to walk past, but Jungkook stopped you again. Teeth gritted, you exhaled steam past your lips.

“What?” you snapped, turning to face him.

Something unreadable stole through his gaze. “We need not have these conversations at all,” he said, dropping his voice. “If you would agree to my original proposal.”

Immediately, your expression shuttered.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” you said and walked past.

This time he did not follow, falling silent as you swept from the room. Yoongi and Jimin joined your exit, the latter tossing a haughty look towards the Ghalians. Namjoon remained in the room, likely to continue his conversation with Seokjin.

As you walked away, you tried and failed to push Jungkook from mind. The offer he alluded to was completely ridiculous.

Marriage.

Seven months prior, Jungkook had sent a message to you after nearly a decade. He’d proposed several items, amongst which was a request to resume your failed betrothal. A list of reasons had been provided. Your nations were on the verge of war, the merger would benefit you both financially and would go a long way towards healing the realms.

Equally politely, you had declined.

It had been a long time since you’d sworn not to marry – or mate, as it were. The mating bond was a possibility for both Dragons and humans. Dragons only mated once in their lifetime, which tended to be longer than ordinary humans. Your parents had been mated to each other, meaning you’d witnessed firsthand the tragedy of their ending.

You would choose an heir when necessary, of course. You weren’t so selfish as to plunge Ashya into civil war when you died because you did not wish to mate. You’d even considered a marriage of practical alliance, one with no chance of mating, but the appropriate circumstances had yet to present themselves.

For this reason, amongst others, you had declined Jungkook’s offer.

Coming to a stop in the hall, you bade Jimin and Yoongi goodnight before continuing on your way. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon. Negotiations with Duret Ghal had taken up most of your time since their arrival in Valor, Ashya’s capital city, nearly ten days ago.

Outside your chambers, you nodded to the guards before entering. Once the door fell shut behind you, you released a sigh.

Straightening, you strode to your dresser and seated yourself at the mirror. As you removed your crown to set on its pedestal, you stared at the silver.

It was not as though you wished to be alone forever. Truthfully, you found yourself exhausted at the end of each day. It would have been nice to fall asleep beside someone and wake with them by your side. Each time you imagined the prospect though, you recalled your father’s death and thought better.

Both Yoongi and Namjoon knew the King had proposed.

Not Jimin, which was for the best. If you had accepted Jungkook’s offer, it would have taken a lot to convince Jimin to remain at his post. He had barely accepted the necessity of a treaty between Ashya and Duret Ghal.

Namjoon had been practical when he heard of the proposal, which you had expected. Lord Namjoon could be practical to a fault, known to ‘factor in’ emotional responses when making decisions. Privately, you thought him a nice foil to Jimin.

When you’d told Namjoon about the King’s offer, he had simply nodded and said it made sense. He acknowledged, of course, the difficulties such a match would present, but did not seem to think it would be a bad idea.

Yoongi had been the one who surprised you. As someone with decisive opinions, you’d imagined Yoongi wouldn’t approve of the match. Instead, he had merely suggested you consider the offer. When you had declined, Yoongi had seemed almost disappointed. It could be hard to tell though, since the Lord usually kept his emotions close to the chest.

Undoing the laces of your gown, you let it drop as you entered your bathing chambers. Amara had left heated water and oils, flickering candles set around the edge of your sunken tub. Lowering yourself to the water, you tipped your head back to rest on the edge.

Today ended only the first week of negotiations between you and Jungkook. Another week remained – you could survive this much, you reasoned. One week from now, you’d have much needed relief for your merchants, along with an ally against the looming threat of Mor to the south.

Only one more week, and Jungkook would be gone.

Ignoring the strange tingle which spread down your spine at the thought, you held your breath and lowered yourself underwater.

Lips pursed, you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Amara hovered, pins in her mouth while tightening your corset. Your dress for the evening was a mix of old and new – although you despised corsets, this one cinched your waist tight enough for the armor-like bodice. Skirts flowed like water to the ground, brushing the floor with emerald chiffon.

Tonight, you had decided to throw a feast honoring the upcoming treaty with Duret Ghal. The event had not been your idea, but Namjoon’s. He believed it would increase the goodwill between you.

You had protested this until Namjoon pointed out there’d been little to celebrate recently. Realizing the truth to this statement, you’d reluctantly acquiesced to two events. Tonight’s feast and a ball, to be hosted their final night before Duret Ghal left.

Inhaling, your eyes watered as Amara cinched the last hook.

“My apologies,” she said, casting a sympathetic glance in the mirror.

Mutely, you shook your head, not blaming her in the slightest. It was not her fault women's fashion tended to be barbaric, more often than not. It was why you preferred to wear looser gowns, ones you didn’t need your lady in waiting’s help to undo.

Amara had been your companion ever since you were little, although you could not exactly call her a friend. You were her Queen, first and foremost. There was no one else in Ashya for you to call an equal.

“Amara,” you said curiously, glancing up. “What do you think of the Ghalian King?”

Startled by your question, Amara nearly dropped the pins she held. Her wide brown eyes stared back at you in the mirror and briefly, you wondered if she thought this a trap. Possibly you needed to work on your resting facial expressions. Yoongi said you were too harsh, but then again, hearing this from Yoongi was the pot calling the kettle black.

“You can answer me honestly,” you said, a bit gentler. “It has been a long week of negotiations and I find myself wondering what people think of the treaty.”

“Well.” Amara looked thoughtful. “I rather think those are two different questions, Your Majesty. Do you wish to know what people think of the King, or the treaty?”

She was correct, you realized. The two were different, even if they were one and the same in your mind.

“Both,” you responded.

Turning towards the mirror, Amara began to fit the bodice over your bust. It was elaborate, with swirls of silver and emerald stitched into the hard lining.

“Well,” she said, hesitant. “Of course, people think the young King is handsome.”

“He is a rider,” you said sharply.

“It is not as important to humans,” Amara reminded gently. “It does not offend so much as it does the Dragons. And objectively speaking, the King is handsome. He could smile more,” she admitted. “But this does not seem to deter from his handsomeness.”

“I suppose not.”

Seeing your expression, she laughed. “You did ask me to speak honestly, Your Majesty. The people find the King handsome, but they do not trust outsiders. Especially Ghalians. Most have a family member who perished in the Dragon Wars.”

None of this was new information, although it did irk you to hear Jungkook’s looks were a topic of conversation in Valor. It was always like this with men versus women. The moment a male monarch had a somewhat pleasing expression, people were willing to forget all manner of atrocities committed in the past.

“And what of the treaty?” you pressed.

Amara bit down on her lip. “Well…”

“Yes?”

“It depends. Some oppose it, much as they did the treaty all those years ago. Others look forward to the potential trade gains. And still others,” Amara said, a knowing edge to her voice, “think you should accept the King’s proposal of marriage.”

Jerking upright, you prompted Amara to nearly stab you with a pin.

“Amara!” you gasped, looking down.

She blinked in surprise. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“How… did you hear that?” you said, utterly flummoxed.

“It was only a guess.” Amara shrugged, a ghost of a smile at her lips. “Many villagers wondered if there were other reasons for His Majesty traveling all this way. They imagined you must have declined his offer, since nothing official has been announced.”

You stared at her in shock, a bit thrown by the assessment. Perhaps it had been naïve of you to assume no one would guess based on Jungkook’s elongated presence.

“I see,” you said at last. “The skirts, if you please, Amara?”

Sensing you were done with the conversation, Amara nodded and hastened to fasten the fabric. You stared at the dress in the mirror, willing your racing pulse to slow.

Your gown for the evening was emerald green; one of the colors of Ashya, along with the color of your scales as a Dragon. It had always been a source of pride for your parents, as though Natal herself had proclaimed your destiny.

As Amara arranged your train on the ground, you stared at your reflection. Most of what she said you had already known. Ashya had been divided for a long time now on how to proceed with Duret Ghal. You knew whatever choice you made, there would always be those who opposed you.

And yet, it was strange to hear some rooted for a union.

Glancing at Amara, you found yourself curious. “And what do you think?” you asked. “What is your opinion of the Ghalian King?”

Amara’s fingers hesitated on your hem.

“Me?” she said as she straightened. “I am sure I do not know, Your Majesty. I do not know the King personally, so it is hard to say.”

You nodded, having assumed as much.

“Although…” Amara hesitated, drawing your gaze back to her. “How a person treats their servants is usually indicative of their personality. Take Lord Larkin, for example,” she said, naming a wealthy noble at your court.

“What about him?”

Amara looked down. “His servants are skittish. They mostly keep to themselves at the request of their Lord. It is rumored he keeps a strict household, and his wife is inscrutable.”

Knowing what you did about Lord Larkin, these facts did not surprise you. He had an archaic mentality of most things – dutifully, you filed this information away for later use.

“What of His Majesty, then?” you said. “How do his servants treat him?”

“They seem to admire him.” Amara stood straighter. “From what I have seen, they seem to genuinely enjoy working for him and respect him. I know he has a fearsome reputation, but… perhaps it is only towards his enemies.”

“Whom we used to be,” you noted drily. “Until now.”

Her head bobbed in a nod. “This is also true.”

Despite this, Amara’s words lingered as you finished dressing. It was quite possible your feelings for Jungkook personally had clouded your judgement of him as a ruler.

There was not time to linger on this, since Yoongi arrived soon after to escort you to the great hall. You would be the last to arrive for tonight’s feast, which was customary.

Noise from the hall grew as you approached the doors. Tonight’s event would be more casual than the ball a week from now, but casual was relative since you’d been forced to wear a corset and the meal would feature no less than twelve courses.

As the doors swung open and you began to walk in, all noise within the hall ceased. Ashya’s great hall had seen centuries of celebration, along with conflict and conquest. At one point during the Dragon Wars, Valor had been briefly occupied by Duret Ghal. During this time, the banners hung on your walls had been blue and gold, instead of emerald and silver.

Entering the room with Yoongi at your side, you sensed the gaze of every inhabitant upon you. Focusing straight ahead, you did your best to ignore this. It had never felt natural to you, being the center of attention. You did so for the sake of appearances but had never enjoyed the sensation.

At least you had Yoongi, who looked handsome as usual in his formal attire. With his dark, sweeping hair and keen gaze, Yoongi would have made an excellent King consort. Unfortunately, your relationship had never progressed in this direction and frankly, Yoongi was not important enough to consider marriage without love.

Glancing your way, Yoongi caught your eye. “Is there something in my teeth?” he muttered.

Stifling a laugh, you faced forward.

“No,” you said. “I was only thinking about choices.”

Although Yoongi arched a brow, he said nothing in response. Now was not the time for an in-depth conversation. People bowed as you passed, a veritable rainbow of fabrics and colors. At the front of the hall, a table had been placed atop the raised dais. Behind it, the banners of Ashya and Duret Ghal had been strung.

High above, evergreen boughs entwined with the chandeliers, carefully spaced so they would not catch fire. Evergreens were considered sacred, symbols of Natal’s everlasting power. Although the winter solstice had not yet arrived, the air in Ashya was cold enough for them to thrive.

Your visiting guests had already arrived you saw as you approached the dais. To your surprise, you saw women traveled in Jungkook’s party. On the other side of Taehyung stood a lady with dark hair, right hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

Although both genders fought in the armed forces, it was still considered an unusual path for a woman. It was a pleasant surprise to see both men and women amongst the soldiers Jungkook had brought to greet you.

Seokjin wore robes of deep purple tonight, eschewing the colors of either nation. It was nearly as bold a statement as Taehyung, draped in the royal blue of Duret Ghal beside him. As you neared the table, both of them stood, and your gaze finally fell upon the man at the center.

Jungkook was already on his feet, a golden crown on his head in contrast to your silver.

Your gaze traveled lower, realizing he’d worn robes of midnight blue as well. His waist had been bound in a golden sash, robes flowing to accentuate his trim thighs. At his side, his sword remained hidden, a decorative golden tassel placed before the hilt. It was not the broadsword you’d seen him wear on his dragon, but a more formal rapier made for ceremonies and balls.

His gaze lingered on you as you approached, sweeping your body in similar fashion. Your skin burned each place he lingered, flames consuming you from the inside.

At the bottom of the steps you paused, and Jungkook inclined his head. His gaze remained fixed on yours the entire time.

After ascending the dais, you stood before your chair and surveyed the room. Long rows of tables and benches stared back, along with the faces of your many subjects. Taking a deep breath, you raised your chin.

“Citizens of Ashya and Duret Ghal,” you said, your voice ringing out. “We gather this evening in uncertain times. Much as Natal crafted the first light from darkness, so are better things forged in the fire of adversity. Although dark days lie ahead, I know they will only strengthen our bonds to each other.”

At your side, Jungkook listened with rapt attention. The rest of your speech was conciliatory, bland words about coming together for the betterment of both nations. Namjoon had written most of it and, in the corner of your eye, you saw him mouthing the words.

You only went off-book once, near the end.

“It is important now, more than ever, to remain united in the face of such a foe. Mor seeks to wipe us from the map – and why? It is because we are strong.” The entire great hall had gone silent, focused on your words. “We have what they will never obtain and so, they seek to destroy it. To destroy us, but I will not let them. We will not let them,” you corrected, glancing a Jungkook.

He looked at you and nodded.

“And when they do come to face us,” you said, turning forward. “We will show them exactly why they were right to fear our teeth and claws.”

A roar echoed through the hall, several shooting to their feet to vocalize approval. Turning around, you sat in your seat as gracefully as you could and arranged your gown.

Jungkook was next and once he began speaking, Yoongi leaned over.

“Nothing like a little bloodlust to get the party started,” he murmured.

You winced. “How bad was it?”

Yoongi chuckled. “They seemed to enjoy it. Lord Namjoon might not forgive you so easily.”

Glancing down the table, you saw Namjoon rubbing wearily at his temples. You nearly laughed at the sight, schooling your features to neutrality when you remembered Jungkook still spoke.

His speech was brief, which did not surprise you. During the time you’d spent in his presence, Jungkook struck you as a man with little bullshit, or patience.

Once he was finished and seated beside you, you waved a hand for the meal to start.

In the corner of the room, a string quartet began to play. Doors opened on both sides, allowing servers inside holding trays of food. As the first course was set before you – a medley of greens with spiced, mashed nuts – you reached instead for your cup of wine.

Even this strained your bodice, but you managed. One of the many perils of being a woman in power was navigating foreign dinners while wearing a corset.

“The ballroom is beautiful,” Jungkook said by your side.

Surprised, you turned. “Small talk, Your Majesty?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his greens. “You do not seem inclined to discuss important topics outside of our negotiations.”

“And what important topics would you care to discuss?”

Jungkook paused, setting down his fork to face you fully. Eyes gleaming, his lips parted, and you felt your heart start to race.

Yoongi cleared his throat at your side.

Both of you turned to stare at your advisor.

Eyebrows arched, Yoongi motioned towards the front. “The greeting line has begun,” he said.

Realizing he was correct, you sat back in your seat. Already, the line of subjects stretched down the main aisle. Lords and ladies, merchants and townsfolk, all attempting to curry favor with their monarchs. Reaching out, you gripped your wine glass to drink again. Yet another reason you disliked feasts, balls, and the like.

The politicking side of ruling had never come naturally to you, although you did practice. It meant endless hours of hobnobbing, spending time with people fawning for your favor. Still, it was important to meet with your citizens and hear their concerns. If only most of your court weren’t completely unbearable.

Inclining your head, you allowed the first two to come forward.

When they came into view, your expression softened. You had expected nobility, and instead found yourself faced with two tradespeople, by the looks of them. The man and woman had worn their best attire, immaculately neat under the scrutiny of court.

“Merchant Calum and his wife, Natalia,” said the announcer at the front.

You smiled in response to their curtsy and bow.

“Thank you for coming,” you said, and gestured for them to rise. “We are so glad you could join us tonight.”

“It is our honor, Your Majesty,” Natalia said, looking up.

“Is there something particular you came to discuss?”

Her gaze slid to Jungkook and you tried not to stiffen. Likely, they had come to see the King of Duret Ghal. It had been more than ten years since Jungkook had last entered Valor. 

“No, Your Majesty,” she said, her gaze sliding to you. “No favor to ask. We simply wished to see you in person. I apologize for my husband’s lack of speech in your presence,” she said, reaching for his hand. “He lost the ability during a fire in the mines years ago.”

“I see,” you said gently.

Looking at him, you signed your thanks for his attendance tonight. The man brightened, signing back gratitude for the invitation. His wife beamed, thanking you once more as the announcer stepped forward to hurry them on. It seemed their allotted time in your presence was up.

As they left, Jungkook glanced at you curiously. “Where did you learn how to sign?”

“Occasionally, one wishes to communicate without being overheard.”

Jungkook allowed the matter to drop but continued to look your way.

The true story was longer.

A year before your father had passed, you’d decided to join the Ashyan forces. You had called it a part of your training, but the reality had been the castle was empty and cold after your mother died.

No one had known who you were when you enlisted. You’d entered a regiment far enough away for few people to have ever walked the streets of Valor. It was where you’d met Jimin, whose parents had been Dragons of relative unknown. Under your parents’ regime, Jimin would never have been named commander.

This had been one of the first laws you overturned after your coronation – the blood laws, which had decreed only noble lines could serve in certain positions. Jimin was more Dragon than most of the realm. He fully deserved the title of commander.

While you served in the army, you’d also fallen in love for the first time. Leo had been human, from a western province so far away, it nearly fell off the edge of the map. An encounter with riders had left him without speech, so everyone in your regiment had learned to sign to communicate.

Unsurprisingly, your love had not lasted. As soon as Leo discovered who you were, things had come crashing down. When your father’s condition had worsened and you returned to the castle, your title and demands were placed on display.

Leo was ultimately forced to make a choice – a life of duty with you, or relative freedom in the western wastes. He chose the latter.

None of this was pertinent to your conversation with Jungkook though, and so you kept quiet and welcomed the next guest. A wealthier Ashyan merchant, to whom you made veiled references about lower tariffs which seemed to please him.

Once he had gone, you realized Jungkook continued to glance your way. Ignoring him, you motioned for the next group to be brought forward, but when they came into view, you stiffened. Following your gaze, Jungkook took in the two men who’d made you go still.

Lord Larkin and his son, Lord Declan – the very same nobility Amara had spoken of earlier. While you’d never liked the pair of them, your opinion had obstinately worsened based on what she’d said.

Lord Larkin bowed, silver hair shining in the candlelight above. His son, Declan, lowered his head as well. You waited a moment longer than necessary before asking them to rise.

“Lord Larkin,” you said flatly. “And Lord Declan. What a pleasure to have you both attend tonight.”

“The pleasure is ours, Your Majesty,” Larkin said with a nod. Casually, he glanced at Jungkook. “We wished to extend our welcome to the rider King, as well. It is certainly unusual to see a human seated beside an Ashyan Queen.”

Jungkook merely smiled.

Admittedly, the gesture didn’t do much to brighten his countenance. The warmth of his smile failed to reach his gaze. On the table, Jungkook tapped his long, agile fingers. You realized with some surprise they had been inked.

Tattoos were not uncommon amongst soldiers, but it was rare to see them amongst members of nobility. You found yourself curious what other marks the King bore.

“I imagine it would be unusual for any man to side beside your Queen,” Jungkook said calmly. “Dragon, rider, or any variation within.”

The implication to Lord Larkin was clear – you are not seated beside her, either. Seeming to understand, Larkin’s eyes flashed while he inclined his head.

You fought not to smile.

Lord Larkin owned two of the largest mines in the Thadal range and was integral to the Ashyan economy. It would be unwise to anger him or his family, a line you’d tiptoed around since your coronation. Especially once it became clear Lord Larkin wished to align his son, Lord Declan, to you in marriage.

For a while, you had considered the idea. Their family was powerful, in possession of both lands and titles which would enrich the crown. Lord Declan was also a Dragon, ensuring the royal Ashyan line would continue unhindered.

It had been Yoongi who advised caution. You were still young, new to the throne and with plenty of time to make an heir. Better to first gain control of your nation and consider the offers of a political marriage after. You had known even then Lord Declan was not your mate, no matter how much his father wished for him to be.

Mates were a mysterious thing in your world. They could be either Dragon or human and did not always present themselves in an obvious manner. A person could stand before their mate several times before realizing the bond.

People spoke of the signs, though. Some likened the beginnings of the bond to slow trickles of energy. Others described it as sparks caressing their skin. Still more mentioned an invisible thread which tied them to one another.

None of this you’d felt with Lord Declan, so you felt fairly comfortable saying he was not the one. And yet, you knew Lord Larkin would continue to bide his time.

“It is unusual for a male to sit by my side, you say?” you mused, sipping your wine. “Whatever do you imagine Lord Yoongi to be, Your Majesty?”

Lord Declan laughed, which prompted a glare from his father.

Jungkook tore his gaze away from the Lord. He glanced instead at Yoongi, who seemed determined to ignore your conversation while he finished his greens.

“A very pretty piece of décor,” Jungkook said at last.

At this, even Yoongi smiled. Stifling a laugh, you returned to the Lords who remained standing before you.

“He is most horrified to hear it, I am certain,” you said. “Although if His Majesty considers Yoongi’s looks to be his best asset, perhaps he is the foolish one at this table.”

Jungkook smiled at this, reaching out for a sip of his wine. He seemed more relaxed, less formal and you marveled at the change in his features.

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?” you said, returning to the Lords.

Their time with you had been longer than the townspeople but then again, this was oftentimes the way of things. Lord Declan nodded, but Lord Larkin simply looked thoughtful, glancing between you and Jungkook. At last, he bowed his head.

“That is all,” he said. “Thank you both for your hospitality.”

Once they had left, you sagged in your seat.

“Pretty.” Yoongi snorted. “I shall have to write home and tell mother immediately.”

Jungkook laughed in response – a real, honest sound which made your heart flip in your chest. It was your first time hearing such a noise from his lips during this visit. It fractured your thoughts into a million pieces.

Rather than confront any of these pieces directly, you looked at Yoongi. “Now, there is food in your teeth,” you said.

Yoongi shrugged, lifting his spoon to fix his reflection. Returning to the waiting line, you gestured the next guests forward.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly. Most of your conversations were kept short, allowing only enough time to greet and move on. By the end of the line, your head was beginning to ache.

Collapsing into your chair, you released a sigh. The line, consumption of wine and lack of food had begun to create the perfect storm. At the next lull of music, your stomach growled in a most unbecoming fashion.

Closing your eyes, you prayed to Natal no one had heard.

“Have you eaten at all?” Jungkook asked from your side.

Opening your eyes, you wondered if perhaps the goddess was busy. Or maybe she simply didn’t care about mortal whims and petty Queens. Looking to your side, you found Jungkook frowning at your full plate.

“I have eaten some,” you said, and cut into the meat.

Before you could stop him, Jungkook had raised a palm to signal the server. “Was there a problem with your plate?” he asked, returning to you. “Or do you simply prefer to eat alone?”

Startled by how earnest Jungkook sounded, you were silent while waving the server away. The poor man fumbled a little, taking a few steps backwards before he turned around.

“Nothing of the sort,” you said, glancing at Jungkook. “The food is fine, and I do not care about eating before others.”

He seemed baffled. “Then, what is it?”

“It is my corset,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “Or have you never sat beside a woman at dinner before?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, drifting below your neckline. Amara had done an exceedingly good job at making certain you filled out the bodice. A lone muscle ticked in Jungkook’s jaw before he looked up.

“I have sat beside women before,” he said.

“What a delight.” Reaching out, you plucked wine from the table. “I am glad to hear it is not my responsibility to teach you about the fairer sex.”

His gaze narrowed. “Corsets are not as fashionable in Duret Ghal as they are here, Your Majesty,” Jungkook said lowly. “I have never had the pleasure of removing one before.”

Gaze snapping to his, you met his darkened stare. A flicker of heat curled in your belly, making you feel even more light-headed.

Before you could respond, Seokjin asked a question and Jungkook was forced to turn away. Hastily, you sat back and faced forward again. Reaching again for your glass, you took a large sip of wine.

Amara was not wrong. Jungkook was handsome and you were no better than the many people who’d come here tonight to look at the attractive, young King. Inwardly, you cursed your weak morals.

“He is not wrong, you know.” Yoongi continued to chew on your other side. “You should eat before coming to these events, Your Majesty.”

You shot him a look. “And when I desire your opinion, I shall ask it, Lord Yoongi.”

“I thought you paid me to advise you?”

“Only under specific circumstances.”

“And what circumstances would those be?”

“When I ask.”

Yoongi laughed, setting down his fork to reach for his glass. “Will you at least send up food to eat afterwards?’

“Of course,” you said, pushing your meat aimlessly away. “This is not my first gathering, you know.”

Yoongi nodded and the two of you fell into comfortable silence. The conversation had lessened some of the tension between you and the King. And yet, you continued to be aware of his presence beside you.

On the table, his hand rested close enough for you to see. Tanned fingers entwined with black ink, his palms roughened by callouses, proof of the leather he gripped when he rode.

Jaw taut, you continued to drink from your glass of wine. Long before it was considered polite, you yearned to stand and retire for the evening. People danced after the final courses, but it was a paltry thing compared to a real ball.

Once most of your guests had begun to leave, Namjoon agreed it was acceptable for you to go. With great relief, you stood and said your goodbyes. Yoongi went with you, following you towards a separate hallway to avoid foot traffic in the castle. Halfway down the hall, you heard someone say your name from behind.

Turning around, you found King Jungkook striding towards you. His robes swished about his ankles, head held high despite the wine and the hour. As he came to a stop, you turned towards your advisor.

“You may go, Yoongi,” you said, dismissing him. “I will return to my rooms after speaking with His Majesty.”

Yoongi hesitated, then took his leave. You watched him disappear down the hall, waiting until he turned the corner before you spoke again.

“It will seem suspicious for us to leave at the same time, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook made a dismissive noise. “I am not concerned by the thoughts of people in there.”

“An odd way to think of your subjects.”

He considered you standing before him. “You have a very low opinion of who I am and how I run my Kingdom.”

“No,” you said. “Merely of the idea of you running mine.”

Jungkook blinked, taken aback by your statement, but his confusion did not last long. After a moment, he stepped forward to close the space between you.

“Is this what you think of me?” he asked, voice low. “You think I asked for your hand in marriage – why? To become King of Ashya without the difficulties of waging war?”

“It would be a practical way to go about it.”

Jungkook’s gaze scanned your features. “I do not desire to rule Ashya in your stead. Merely to provide the best solution for both our peoples.”

Standing this close, you could feel the heat from his body. His scent was a living thing, wrapping your limbs, coaxing you closer – teeth gritted, you fought the need to take a step backwards.

“That is what you say, Your Majesty.”

He stiffened. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I believe there are things you do not tell me.”

“And what about you, Your Majesty?” Jungkook tilted his head. “You have declined my offer of marriage and have yet to give a reason.”

“Do I need to give you one?”

“I would like one.”

“I should think you used to disappointment by now,” you said. “Such is the lot of Kings and Queens.”

He stared at you for a moment, his features softened by candlelight. A feeling almost like regret stole through you, gone before you could fully embrace it.

“Do you remember the last time you visited Duret Ghal?” Jungkook asked, which surprised you.

You stared at him a moment. The suddenness of the question pushed all retorts from mind. Thus far, you had held firm to your vow not to marry by convincing yourself the man standing before you was your enemy.

Now though, he asked if you remembered.

In truth, you did.

It had been your seventeenth birthday when you last traveled to Duret Ghal. The occasion had been to finalize your parents’ treaty, as well as formally meet Jungkook as your betrothed. You had met a few times before then, as children, but it had been a long time since those days.

Duret Ghal was a land of icy wilderness, except during the summer, when harsh winter snows melted to expose greenery and cliffs. Rumors said the dragons kept their bays clear of ice, but you had gone at the wrong time of year to see this in person.

To the north of Duret Ghal lay the Irik Sea, a fathomless expanse of foamed troughs of water. Its only mountains to speak of were the famed Cliffs of Oria, which circled the capital city of Ebril. It was within these cliffs the famed dragons nested.

Ebril was situated along the coast, known equally for seamen as much as their riders. The people of Ebril were known to be craggy and sharp, much like the topography. Despite their reputation, Ebril was a city of learning. Built from the white limestone which lined its cliffs, it was occasionally referred to as the jewel by the sea.

Ebril had not been the only thing which fascinated you on that trip. You had found Jungkook equally intriguing.

He had been different then. Still quiet, but in a studious way. His hair had been shorter, as though he could not be bothered with the time it took to comb it.

Upon your arrival, you had thought Jungkook hated you. He could not seem to stand being in the same room as you for very long. Still, he had not seemed antagonistic and so, you had resigned yourself to a loveless marriage and spent time exploring the city.

One morning, you’d woke to find the day warm enough for a trip to the cliffs. Your parents had been busy from sunup to sundown, negotiating the treaty you now found yourself crafting. Back then though, you’d been blissfully free of obligation and duty.

Having never seen the Cliffs of Oria, you’d gone to the stables to secure a mount. Strictly speaking, you did not need one as a Dragon. Ideally, you preferred to fly by yourself, but your parents had warned you against shifting in Duret Ghal.

Although some things had changed since the Dragon Wars, many Ghalians still did not trust your kind. It was never a good idea to push boundaries, especially not when the treaty depended upon it.

You had even borrowed Amara’s clothes in an attempt to blend in. It had been a practical move on your part, since you’d been packed only dresses.

When you’d arrived and requested a horse from the palace stable hand, he had looked you up and down before sneering.

“You’re Ashyan,” he’d said upon hearing your accent. The word Ashyan sounded like a curse. “I heard some of your kind had come to the castle. Thought you could fly without horses, huh? What need do you have with a Ghalian mount?”

You’d been so taken aback, you blurted out the first thing which came to mind.

"If you know so much about Ashya,” you’d told him, gaze hard, “then surely you know more humans live within its borders than Dragons. Humans cannot sprout wings any more than a man like you can see reason.”

The man’s eyes had bugged, taking a threatening step forward – as a soft laugh echoed through the courtyard. Surprised, both of you had turned towards the sound.

In the archway of the stables, Jungkook had shut his book in one hand. “That was funny,” he said, looking at you.

Upon seeing the Prince, the stable hand had paled.

“Your Highness,” he said, hastening to bow.

Jungkook’s gaze slid towards him, any trace of humor disappearing. He stared at him coldly and for a moment, you’d seen a hint of the King he would become.

“I believe the lady asked for a horse.” Jungkook had spoken calmly. “Were you about to deny the request of a royal guest to the crown?”

He did not call you the princess and for a moment, you had wondered if he knew.

“Of course not, Prince Jungkook,” the stable hand had stammered and for a moment, you’d felt a modicum of pity for him.

Then the man had cast you a dark look entering the stables and you'd quickly forgotten your mercy. Instead, you’d found yourself wondering how loud he’d scream if you shifted.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

Looking at him, you’d found him lingering in the entrance to the courtyard. Curiosity washed through you, wondering if he intended for you to thank him. The idea was vaguely insulting. You could have handled one measly human.

“I did not need your help, you know,” you had said.

Jungkook had merely arched a brow. “Oh, I am aware.”

“Good.”

Turning around, you had considered the conversation to be over. While you stood and waited for your horse though, you realized Jungkook did not leave. After another moment, you’d turned towards him.

“Then, why did you interject?” you’d asked, suddenly curious.

Rather than answer immediately, Jungkook had crossed the courtyard. He came to a stop before you, forcing you to tilt your head back to see him. For a human, you remembered him being quite tall.

That close, you’d seen Jungkook’s eyes for the first time. They were not all brown, as you’d imagined. Instead, you saw many colors within – auburn, hazel, and a deep, burnished gold. 

Meeting his gaze frankly stole your breath away.

“You are my guest,” Jungkook had said. “And my betrothed. It is my duty to protect you.”

Looking away, you’d tried not to smile. Despite the fact you were trying not to laugh, it felt oddly wrong to be free of his gaze.

“Why are you smiling?” Jungkook had asked, confused.

“I am sorry,” you had said, biting back a smile. “It is only… well. Is that how women are raised in Duret Ghal?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Before you could answer, the stable hand had emerged with a horse in tow. Accepting the reins he gave, you’d placed a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Settling your weight, you’d leaned forward and pet the horse’s long mane.

Glancing up, you’d locked eyes with Jungkook. “You speak of women as though they need protection. I must say, it has never been something I needed or wanted,” you’d said quietly, then clicked your heels and steered the horse away.

You had not looked back as you rode from the castle, but felt the weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades the entire way. It had sent the strangest energy across your skin but once you reached the trail, you managed to push both this and Jungkook from mind.

The sea had always been a subject of endless fascination for you. Crossing the grassy plains which topped the Cliffs of Oria, you’d found satisfaction in the salty taste of the air.

After nearly an hour of riding, you’d slowed to a stop. Before you, the Irik Sea had stretched in an endless display of blue. It reminded you of the sky with its limitless potential. As soon as you thought this, you had the dearest wish to fly.

Glancing away, you realized you’d seen no other humans for miles. Quietly, you slipped from your horse and tied him to a tree.

Entering a nearby thicket, you’d changed from your clothes and placed them under a rock. When you transformed to a Dragon, it tended to shred whatever clothing you wore.

Naked as the day you’d been born, you stood under the sky and tipped your head back. Allowing the transformation to take hold, warmth had spread through your veins until – opening your eyes, you were a Dragon.

Humans referred to this as the change, but you’d never found it to be an accurate descriptor. It was not as though you changed from one thing to the other; merely shifted to a different part of yourself. You were always a dragon and always a human. To be a Dragon was to be both.

Wings unfurled, you’d bent and leapt into the sky. It always took you a moment to reorient after shifting. Your senses of sight, smell and hearing were sharper as a dragon, although some things were different.

Beating your wings against the sea breeze, you’d risen and fallen while surveying the cliffs. From this height, you’d been able to see the smaller cities which dotted the fields of the capital. Ebril shone like a star on the distant shore. Instead of flying towards this, you turned in the opposite direction. You had no desire to be seen and send their women into hysterics.

Remembering Jungkook’s words, a jet of flame left your nostrils in a wicked snort. The idea of protecting a Dragon was laughable. Wheeling sideways, you’d traveled further out over the ocean. It had been silver-green at the time, bright as the clearest Ashyan jewel.

Growing bolder, you’d flown lower and skimmed the waves with your toes. Swooping higher, you’d circled again before diving straight down. When you plunged beneath the surface, the coldness of the Irik snatched fire from your lungs. Sputtering, you’d breached the surface and shot into the air to hang there, gasping.

Then you grinned and dove again.

For the first time in months, you’d allowed yourself to have fun. Ever since you’d turned sixteen, you’d become infinitely aware of your title and duty. Your duty to marry, to someday become Queen and leave your childhood behind. You’d wondered why you needed to give up fun and freedom, all for someone else’s hand.

In truth, the idea of marriage had scared you. Riders enjoyed taming dragons, or so the legends had said. They’d taken your ancestral creatures and turned them into beasts who willingly did their bidding. You had no desire to do anyone’s bidding but your own.

After a long day of flying, you’d tucked in your wings and returned to the cliffside. Although you had told your parents where you were going, they would worry if you were not back in time for dinner. Approaching the spot where you’d left your things, you realized a second horse had been tethered beside yours.

Searching the plains, you’d immediately spotted Jungkook. He lazed in the sun at the edge of the cliff, book open on his stomach and one arm behind his head.

He did not so much as look up when you landed, although the noise from your wings must have been deafening. Dropping into the thicket, you’d quickly returned to human form. With trembling hands, you’d pulled back on Amara’s clothes.

As you exited, Jungkook remained in his same position. Upon seeing him there, you’d stopped and looked away. Perhaps he had not seen you after all.

“How was your swim?” Jungkook had asked, eyes still shut.

Your stomach had dropped.

“I can explain,” you’d said, stepping forward.

One eye opening, Jungkook had frowned. Pushing himself to his elbows, he’d surveyed you and it had struck you suddenly how beautiful he was. Brown curls and soft gaze, above a lean body.

“What do you have to explain?” he’d asked, sounding curious.

“I – well.” For the first time, you’d found yourself flummoxed. “I did not mean to take advantage of Duret Ghal’s hospitality.”

This seemed to amuse him. “Are you… apologizing for using the sky, Your Highness?”

“No. Well, yes.”

Something in your expression made Jungkook soften. Closing his book and setting it aside, he’d stood from the ground and began to walk closer. He came to a stop near enough to see the tiny mole beneath his lip.

“Some Ghalians fear Dragons, it is true,” he’d said quietly. “But you need not ever fear this from me, Your Highness. If someone asked you not to fly in my Kingdom, please consider this to be a formal revocation.”

You had stared at him a moment before arching a brow. “It could be dangerous to fly, though. I might be in need of protection.”

Jungkook had paused for a moment before laughing, his head thrown back and smile wide. It was the same laugh he’d made tonight at the banquet.

“Forgive me for earlier,” he’d said, lowering his head to meet your gaze. “It was foolish of me to imagine I might protect a mighty Dragon.”

Although he’d adopted a teasing tone, seriousness lit his gaze. You found you rather enjoyed it. Enjoyed him, against all better reason. The slightest of thrills went down your spine.

“Foolish, indeed,” you’d murmured.

In your mind though, you’d wondered if perhaps you were the foolish one.

Although the day had been nearly ten years ago, you had never forgotten it. Never forgotten the boy who’d wanted to protect a Dragon.

The answer to Jungkook’s question was a resounding yes.

Yes, you remembered. Perhaps too much.

“I remember some,” you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Not all.”

Jungkook paused. “I see.”

“If that is all, I shall –”

“We were to be married before,” he said, expression inscrutable. “Is the idea of marrying me now so repulsive?”

“I do not find you repulsive,” you said on instinct.

Too late, you realized you’d eliminated an answer. You did not find Jungkook repulsive, so your reason for declining was something else.

He considered this. “No?”

“I do not,” you admitted. “But I also don’t know you, Your Majesty. Our former betrothal ended nearly ten years ago. The intention was to mend a rift between two nations. The situation is different now. Now, we have a common enemy to unite us.”

“And once Mor is defeated?”

“The defeat of a mutual enemy will be enough.”

Jungkook gave you a look which plainly said, will it?

Growing increasingly frustrated, you stepped forward until you stood nose to nose. Tilting your chin higher, you fought the overwhelming tide of his cedar and sunshine.

“You asked if I remember our last meeting and I do,” you said hotly. “I also remember the carnage which followed. Do not ask from me more than I can give, Your Majesty.”

A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression, quickly followed by anger.

“If you remember so well,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Then surely you remember it was my Kingdom, not yours which paid for the coup in blood. It took me many years to rebuild what my Uncle destroyed.”

“I did not mean –”

“I think you did,” he interrupted. Taking a step back, he allowed cool air to pass between you. Stiffly, he bowed. “Thank you for the evening, Your Majesty. Enjoy the remainder of your night.”

Turning around, Jungkook strode down the hall until he disappeared.

You remained still for a moment, staring after him and wondering what you had done. All you’d wanted to do was to steer the conversation away from your vow not to marry. Instead, you’d insulted a man who had done nothing to harm you – at one point, he’d even wanted to protect you.

Gathering your skirts, you turned and walked away. Yoongi had not waited for you, for which you were grateful. You had no doubt he’d side with King Jungkook regarding your display this evening. Anyone with half a brain would, you supposed.

Still, it was too much for Jungkook to expect you to marry him simply because you had once been engaged. You’d been right about one thing – the situation was different now. You were different now and could not afford to let Jungkook get any closer.

You’d witnessed firsthand the kind of disaster such unions wrought.

Climbing the steps to your chamber, the crown on your head felt heavier tonight than ever before.

The sun had not yet risen when you left your bed the next morning. Donning a gown, you hastily braided your hair and slipped outside. Nodding hello to your guards, you hurried down the corridors and out a side door.

As the land of Dragons, Ashya had developed unique features attuned to their needs. One such accommodation were the sheds – tiny, low buildings with large yards beyond them. They rested on the opposite side of the stables, since horses tended to be spooked by dragons and the main purpose of the sheds was for Dragons to shift.

Entering the one closest, you shut the door and began to undress. Hanging your clothes on the wall, you strolled into the enclosed yard. Its walls were high enough to ensure no passersby saw, yet large enough to encompass an adult Dragon.

Inhaling a breath, you tipped your head back and let the shift come. Wings unfurling, you opened your eyes and set your forelegs upon the ground. Bending low to the dirt, you pushed yourself upwards and into the sky.

Soaring over the castle, you began to fly southeast of the city. Valor sprawled out beneath you, a haphazard city of cobblestone and flint. Smoke curled from the chimneys, the earliest households waking for the day.

To the east, the foothills of the Thadal mountains were covered in pasture. Sheep and goats grazed there; their wool favored by Ashyan merchants. Circling overhead to ensure all was well, you found yourself satisfied and began to climb higher.

This was one of your favorite pastimes. Flying high enough that even your Dragon’s breath froze in your lungs, crystallizing in bursts until you could no longer bear it. Then you dove, tucking your wings in to hurtle towards the ground.

At the last moment, you snapped your wings open and rode the wind.

Snorting a thin stream of smoke, you slowed as you approached the mountains. The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, spilling their light between the rocky crags. Inhaling fresh morning air, you flew further south.

The Thadal range was truly one of the wonders of the continent. Flying between towering peaks, you did not question why the Dragon Wars had been fought for its riches. The mountains went on for miles in the east, a flight you’d only made once. It had taken you nearly a week to cross the entire range and at its end you’d found a desert similar in size to the Irik Sea.

When you had returned, your father had berated you. Your mother had died only a year prior and he had only recently managed to pull himself together. If you had died, he’d shouted, the entire future of Ashya was lost.

It was a heavy burden to bear, but one you’d shouldered after his passing. Everything you did was for your nation and people. You would be enough for Ashya and would guard against the kind of attachments which might put this at risk.

As the sun slowly rose, the tightness in your stomach increased. With the rising sun came the responsibilities of being Queen. You had a schedule to keep, meetings to attend with Duret Ghal, your advisors and a large group of nobles.

Tucking in your wing, you began to turn – only for bright, searing pain to hit you in the shoulder.

Crying out, you fought to keep stable while twisting around. Wings beating the air, you frantically searched for your attacker. Vision blurred, you scanned the tree lines below and found nothing.

A second bolt shot towards you. With great effort, you managed to dodge the strike, rolling in midair. Mid-twist, you realized a large iron bolt remained lodged in your shoulder.

Stomach curdling, you realized what danger you were in. Only Mor had crossbows strong enough to kill a Dragon. Somewhere beneath you lay a Mor patrol.

Searching the woods, you felt hot drops of blood dripping from your scales. Before you could retaliate, before you could so much as inhale, an arrow of darkness shot into your vision.

Jungkook, astride his dragon, Nemrys, laid waste to the mountain.

A great wave of fire engulfed where the Mor patrol had been. Faint screams rose from below, a final shot fired but its aim was way off, as though whomever had done so, did so out of panic.

Wings flapping, you tried to stay aloft, but to no avail. It was hard to bring down a Dragon with a single bolt, but Mor had perfected their technology over the past century and you’d been caught unawares.

Nemrys continued to torch the forest even as you dropped, struggling to stay alight. Vision turning black, you thought you heard Jungkook yell – or maybe it was your own subconscious – before you spiraled down, wings cutting through branches before you hit the ground.

Everything went dark after that.

Groggily, you woke to the sound of your name being called.

Fabric had been draped over your torso, softer than the dirt beneath your back. As you opened an eye, you realized you’d shifted to human. This happened occasionally when you went through a great shock.

As soon as you thought this, you remembered the attack. When you attempted to sit upright, a gentle hand gripped your shoulder. Re-focusing through the haze, you realized it was Jungkook who knelt beside you.

His expression remained on your arm. A shudder of pain wracked your body, which had been covered by his cloak, you realized.

Except for your shoulder, that was.

Catching a glimpse of it on the ground, you winced and forced yourself to look away. The lower part of your arm remained unscathed, but the upper portion was in bad shape. All you could see was blood, shredded muscle, and bone peeking through.

“The arrow,” you breathed, head spinning. “Where is it?”

“Knocked loose when you landed,” Jungkook said, tight-lipped. “Which was lucky, given how large the bolt was. Had you shifted while it was still in your shoulder… I do not know what might have happened. Still…” He paused. “You have lost a lot of blood.”

Turning aside, Jungkook began rummaging through a pack on the ground. Dizzily, you glanced around the forest clearing.

“W-where is Nemrys?” you asked, your teeth chattering.

Jungkook looked back with alarm. “I left him in the clearing,” he said. “There was not enough room for him to land.”

“And this is… your cloak?”

Jungkook nodded but said nothing more. He was dressed in all leather, a broadsword strapped to his back in a pragmatic sheath. When he turned your wrist over, you let out a hiss and his gaze snapped to yours.

A war seemed to wage within him as Jungkook sat back on his heels. “You have lost a lot of blood,” he repeated.

“There are healers in Valor,” you said, struggling to sit up. “You must bring me to them.”

Jungkook gripped your good shoulder again. “You cannot shift in this state, and I fear moving you would aggravate the wound ever further.”

You glared at him from the ground. “What do you propose, then?”

Even as you spoke, it occurred to you the situation might be bad. Right now, shock and adrenaline kept the pain at bay, but it would soon wear off.

“I stopped the blood flow as best I could,” Jungkook said. “But it continues to bleed. I fear you may lose consciousness before we reach the capital.”

Panic rose, choking whatever retort you had to say. If you lost consciousness now, it would only be a matter of time before your organs began to fail. You could not die here. You would not; not on an unknown forest floor, miles away from your home.

You would not be brought down by a single Mor patrol before you even got the chance to face them on the battlefield.

“What are the options,” you said, returning to Jungkook. “Do you have a tourniquet with you? Can Nemrys cauterize my wound? I can survive the loss of a limb, Your Majesty, but I will not leave Ashya so poorly defended.”

Jungkook stared at you a moment before he slowly exhaled.

“There is another option,” he said at last.

“Whatever it is, you best do it quickly. Before I pass out and leave you to wrestle with your conscience alone.”

Suppressing a grimace, Jungkook finally nodded and rolled up his sleeves. It exposed sinuous forearms and ink which, in any other circumstance, you might have found appealing. As it was, you merely found them distracting.

Jungkook hesitated before laying his hands on your arm.

“You must…” He paused, then swallowed. “You must trust me, Y/N.”

The use of your first name was shocking enough for you to fall silent. Nodding, you stared at the sky and laid as still as you could. The pain had begun to set in; you could feel phantom tingles from your injured limb. Dull, shooting pain which throbbed in your shoulder.

At first, nothing happened.

Jungkook’s hands remained on your arm and for a moment, nothing changed. Then – a flurry of sparks skittered down his hands. They sank into your skin so quickly, you thought you’d imagined it.

In response to this, the pain flared, and you arched your back.

“Steady,” said Jungkook, calloused hands on your body. It could have been your imagination, but his dark eyes seemed to glow. “The pain will be gone soon.”

As he spoke, more and more sparks traveled down his forearms. They increased until a golden stream of light poured from his fingertips, fracturing into pieces and – healing you, you realized.

Each place the golden light touched, your muscles reknit. Blood flowed back to the wound as your skin stitched itself together. Shocked, you stared at the evidence of your wound being erased. A bead of sweat rolled down Jungkook’s brow, his color turning sallow while you stared in alarm.

“Jungkook,” you rasped, chest rising and falling. The steady stream of light continued to brighten. “Jungkook – enough.”

He inhaled and jerked back, severing the connection.

Still breathing heavily, you stared at him in shock. The forest around you seemed darker, as though it, too, missed the light. Missed the golden magic which had poured forth from his fingers.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to a seated position, one hand on his cloak to hold it in place. Glancing down, you saw your shoulder and went still. He had healed you. Somehow, Jungkook had healed you.

Experimentally, you flexed the muscles and watched the skin ripple, undeterred.

You’d heard of healing magic but never experienced it in person. Magic was rare enough for not all gifts to be born in the same lifetime. There was also the small matter of neither of Jungkook’s parents being Dragons. Only a human with a Dragon parent could inherit magical gifts.

“Explain,” you said, gaze lifting to him.

Jungkook blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Explain,” you repeated, not looking away. “How did you heal me?”

Finally understanding, Jungkook sat back on his heels. Twisting around, he rummaged in his pack for a canteen and unscrewed the cap. As he took a long sip, Jungkook stared at the forest.

His exhaustion was clear, and you felt a glimmer of regret at your words. Regret – and something else. Something warmer, which wrapped you in golden tendrils as easily as his magic.

Clutching the cloak, you stared and realized you were being unfair. First and foremost, he had saved your life. Everything else could wait.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jungkook stilled.

“I do not know how, nor why you healed me,” you continued. “But… thank you for doing so.”

Setting down his canteen, Jungkook waited a moment before turning to face you. He seemed to wrestle with some inner emotion.

“You are welcome.” After another beat, he reached into his sack. “Here,” he said, pulling out a ball of clothes. “If you wish to change into my spare clothing, you may. I can wait over there.”

Once you accepted the bundle, Jungkook stood from the ground. Dusting his palms on his pants, he swayed a little before he steadied himself. Before you could comment on this he was gone, trekking across the clearing.

Silently, you unfolded the clothes in your lap.

They included a tunic and trousers, along with a leather belt to hold them in place. Scuffed boots made up the last item of the pile. Running a thumb up their side, you attempted to determine their make.

“Why do you have all this?” you asked, looking up.

Even from here, you could see Jungkook’s cheeks redden. “Nemrys and I were once trapped by a snowstorm. We were forced to camp for the night in the mountains. Ever since then, I’ve always carried supplies. Get dressed,” he said, turning around. “I promise not to look.”

Tough you bristled, you watched and true to his word, he did not turn around. Once you were certain of this, you stood from the ground and began to dress yourself. His tunic was much too large, as were the trousers, forcing you to tighten the belt to its final notch. The fabric was soft and warm though, smelling of him.

Again, you marveled at your ease of motion. You’d seen your shoulder before Jungkook had done his healing and knew the situation could have been worse. If you hadn’t bled out in the woods, you might have lost the limb. Even in older accounts of magical healing, you knew it could be dangerous work. Healing required knowledge of muscles, veins, ligaments, and nerve endings. It was simple to patch up skin – harder to make everything beneath it work again.

Whatever magic Jungkook had, it was powerful.

Once you were fully dressed, you approached him on the other side of the clearing. Jungkook continued to stare pointedly at the woods, only turning around when you tapped his shoulder. He swiftly took in your outfit, gaze darkening at the sight of his clothes on your frame.

Ignoring the possible meanings his look could contain, you cleared your throat.

Jungkook’s gaze jumped to yours. “Are you ready to go?” he said, a bit brusque. “Nemrys is willing to fly us both back.”

Your jaw fell a little. “You wish for me to ride a dragon?”

“I expect you not to undo the gift I gave. Although I fixed your shoulder the best I could, I’d prefer a healer examined you back in Valor. It would be bad,” Jungkook added, seeing your expression, “if the Queen of Ashya were to plummet from the sky after my attempted healing.”

Much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Magic was tenuous – even you knew how complicated healing magic was.

“Fine,” you muttered. “I will ride back with you.”

When you moved to walk past him, Jungkook grabbed your arm. Bristling somewhat, you stared at his hand on your sleeve.

“What?” you huffed, looking upwards.

Jungkook met your gaze. “Before we go,” he said slowly. “There are things you should know. Things we need to discuss.”

“Such as?”

“Such as my magic,” he said, releasing your arm. “My magic, where it comes from, and what it means for Ashya.”

You stared at him, not understanding.

Jungkook exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Dark strands fell around his face, partially concealing the worry in his gaze. Of what, or for whom, you did not know.

“Do you know the origin story of magic?”

His voice had deepened, softened a little. Something about this and his expression convinced you not to snap back. Every child on the continent knew the origin story.

“Of course,” you said curiously. “Natal ripped a hole in the veil and before she could close it, magic seeped through.”

“True.” Jungkook nodded. “In your version of the story though, only your kind were gifted with magic. This is not the case. All dragons have magic.”

The world around you seemed to tilt. What Jungkook said was impossible and yet, he seemed utterly serious. For a moment, you wondered if he’d also been hurt in the attack. Perhaps he’d hit his head in his haste to heal you.

“You are the only kind of dragon who can shapeshift,” he continued. “Other kinds of magic exist, though. There are other types of power the dragons can wield.”

“Impossible,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

“It is true.” Jungkook’s gaze remained level. “Riders can use the magic of the dragon they’re bonded to. It is why I can heal. Nemrys comes from a long line of dragons with healing magic.”

“It cannot be,” you said, reeling from the implications. “Only the descendants of Dragons and humans are born with magic.”

“And riders, once they bond.”

You stared at him a moment, then shook your head. “We would have known. We would… we would have known if someone else could use magic. How could we not?” you demanded.

A shadow of something bitter crossed Jungkook’s expression. “I am sure you are aware there are parts of Duret Ghal which disapprove of magic.”

You did not know how this could relate to the dragons and their riders but allowed the detour to continue. It could not be worse than the sudden revelation magic was different from what you’d always imagined.

“I am aware,” you said flatly. “A ridiculous notion. Magic wins wars.”

“True.” Jungkook seemed to weigh his words. “But those born with gifts are viewed as a necessary evil by some within Duret Ghal. A tool for battle and nothing more. If these people had discovered their leaders had magic?” Jungkook shook his head. “A century ago, Ghalians would have revolted.”

Your eyes narrowed. “They would accept you ride dragons, but not that you have magic?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Jungkook’s lips.

“Humans are gifted magic when a Dragon and human mate,” he explained. “For many years, Duret Ghal considered Ashya and Dragons to be our enemy. You can understand why the idea of magic was an inherent threat.”

“…I suppose.”

“They only accepted the riders because Ghalians imagined the same thing you did – that the dragons we ride are a tame, subservient species compared to your own. It is not so.”

“No?”

“No.”

Unable to fathom this, you looked away at the forest. If everything Jungkook said was true, then the history of your nation – of your continent – was a lie. The Dragons of Ashya were only different in that they could shapeshift. The rhetoric you’d believed your whole life, that you were somehow more than the rest, was untrue.

The dragon riders had magic and, realizing this, you turned back.

“Why did you heal me, then?” you asked. “If the Ghalians feel so strongly about magic, surely you would wish to keep this a secret?”

Jungkook hesitated.

“We were… aware of the risk coming here. For many years, I have been trying to convince the other riders to reveal themselves,” he explained. “It was the coming war against Mor which convinced them, in the end.”

“What does Mor have to do with it?”

“Everything,” Jungkook said. “Mor has declared a war on all dragons, including those of Duret Ghal. Their technology is beyond ours. When they do come, it will be a bloody battle. If we do not fight with our full capabilities, we might fail. I will not allow this to happen.”

“And so,” you said slowly. “You healed me because… you had already decided to reveal your magic?”

An amused gleam entered his gaze. “Amongst other reasons,” Jungkook allowed. “Though you may not believe it, I rather enjoy having you around, Your Majesty. It would be a pity to waste a life such as yours.”

There seemed to be deeper meaning to his words, but you had no time to dissect it. Stepping closer, Jungkook looked down.

“We had planned to reveal our magic once the treaty was signed,” he explained. “Your injury simply moved up the timeline.”

“I see,” you said, somewhat dazed by his presence so close to your own.

Jungkook nodded, then turned to continue, but something within you kept you from moving. Staring at the back of his head, you realized the words you truly wanted to say.

“And the other dragons,” you said slowly, then stopped. “What about them?”

Paused at the edge of the clearing, Jungkook turned around. Wariness had entered his gaze.

“I do not know this is my story to tell,” he admitted. “But since you cannot speak directly to Nemrys, I can tell you what he told me.”

Jungkook glanced overhead and you wondered if he searched for the time. Or, you realized, he could be communicating with Nemrys.

You had known rider and dragon had a bond. This had been well-documented throughout history, but not much else was known beyond their ritualistic ceremony. Whether dragon and rider could converse was a controversial topic amongst historians, but based on what Jungkook said, it seemed they could.

Based on what he did now, it seemed they did.

“Thousands of years ago,” Jungkook finally said, looking down. “Natal broke the sky and magic flowed in. It entered all dragons who slept in the mountains below. The magic manifested in different forms. A line of dragons known for compassion became healers. Another line, known for passion and wildness, became stormmakers. And another, always curious, became the shapeshifters.

“Human beings were originally from the south, but as they moved north, they encountered the dragons. Wars were fought between them, bloodier than any of our recent conflicts. Many were killed on both sides, until the head of the shifter dragons decided to become human.

“There was dissent amongst the dragons as to whether this was wise. Many did not like the idea of stooping to the humans’ level, but the shifter line proceeded despite their caution. Your kind founded Ashya and lived in peace for a while.

“Over time, changes took place. Small, at first – and then larger. Some of the shifters chose not to shift, even though they could. Some decided they preferred human form over dragon. In an important conflict, the shifters sided with humans. Certain lines of dragons deemed this to be unacceptable.

“The most feared magic amongst dragons was – and still is – that of the memory dragons. These dragons, though rare, can manipulate thought, memory and perception. As punishment for siding with the humans, they took away your memory of all dragons. Stole your ability to communicate while in dragon form. Over time, your kind have forgotten what you once were.

“It was a terrible punishment. One which has not been given since. That is the whole truth,” he finished quietly. “That is the knowledge which has been kept from your kind.”

Falling silent, Jungkook allowed time for his story to sink in. The forest around you was silent as well, as though it, too, were holding its breath.

You could only stare while struggling to comprehend. If what Jungkook said was true, then you were not different from other dragons – or, you were, but not in the ways you’d once thought. They were as intelligent, as cohesive, and knowledgeable as you were. More, perhaps, if they had hidden this from you for so long.

“And so, rider magic,” you said, a bit hoarse. “How…?”

“Ah.” Jungkook gave a wry smile. “The riders did not come until later. Call it Natal’s judgement, if you will. As time went on, some of the dragon lines grew more curious about humans. One of them somehow bonded with a human. This continued to occur until finally, the King of Duret Ghal himself became a dragon rider.”

“And the riders,” you said, trying to piece it together. “They can use their dragon’s magic?”

Jungkook nodded.

“And you speak to them?” The barest hint of wonder entered your voice. “Can you speak to all dragons?”

“Only the one we are bonded to,” Jungkook said, a bit softer.

“I see.”

He gave you a look. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“No. Well, yes,” you said as you shook your head. “You have given me much to think on, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook’s expression shuttered a bit at the formality, but he inclined his head. “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he responded.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the dried sweat on his forehead from the energy spent healing you. Something had changed between you, and you did not know how you could turn back.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Jungkook glanced up. “For what?”

“For many things, I suppose. For healing me. For trusting me with the truth. I owe you a life debt, Your Majesty.”

An unreadable look passed over his face. “I imagine there will be many life debts between us before this war comes to pass.”

He was not wrong and for a moment, you allowed yourself the luxury of imagining you might face this war together.

“A fair point,” you allowed.

Glancing past him, you surveyed the clearing. Nemrys must be nearby, or Jungkook would not have gotten to you so quickly. Suddenly, the prospect of meeting another dragon held an entirely different meaning. All this time, you had assumed them to be less intelligent than your own and had treated them as such. You could only imagine how little they thought of you.

Nemrys would likely be less thrilled to have you riding him, than you would be in the saddle.

“There is another reason I healed you,” Jungkook admitted.

You glanced his way in surprise. “And what reason was that?”

Jungkook walked closer, step by step until he was barely a foot away. Reaching out a hand, he adjusted his tunic where it fell on your frame. His thumb brushed your bare collarbone and in response to this, you barely suppressed a shiver.

“You said you did not know me.” Jungkook swallowed. “It seemed a shame for our time to be cut short before I could remedy this fact.”

With that, he dropped his hand and walked away.

You stared as he left, feeling utterly thrown until he spoke again.

“Follow me,” Jungkook called. “Nemrys is impatient. Not unusual for a dragon, but he does make a good point. People will be looking for us – I was expected back nearly an hour ago.”

Glancing overhead, you realized Jungkook was right based on the sun's position. It had risen nearly above the treetops, meaning Jimin would have people looking for you soon.

Jungkook kept going as you followed, striding from the clearing you’d made when you fell. It took only a few minutes before the trees had thinned enough for you to come face to face with Nemrys on the ground.

His scales were ebony in color, dark as the night sky above during the witching hour. Only one golden eye could focus on you at a time, but the one which did remained steady as you entered.

Nemrys did not seem happy to see you, and you did not blame him. Dragons were a territorial bunch, whether shifter or otherwise. If Nemrys considered you a threat to Jungkook, he would stop at nothing to protect his rider.

As you exited the forest, Jungkook looked up. “No,” he said sharply, walking around Nemrys’ side.

Curious, you turned and realized he wasn’t speaking to you.

“What did Nemrys say?” 

A growl left Nemrys’ throat, clawing at the ground with a single, curved talon.

Jungkook sighed in response, looking skyward. He seemed thoroughly exasperated, and it was one of the most natural expressions you’d seen on him thus far.

“Nemrys asked if you wished to ride in the saddle, or have him carry you,” Jungkook said at last, looking down.

Gaze narrowed, you turned your head to Nemrys. If you did not know any better, you could have sworn his upper lip curled. To be carried by a dragon meant to dangle upside down from their claw while they flew through the air.

“No, thank you,” you said, walking closer. “Although, I do have something I wish to say to Nemrys.”

Coming to a stop before him, you looked Nemrys in the eye. Nemrys slowly blinked, as though he were extremely uninterested in whatever you had to say.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice softening. “Thank you… for telling me, through him.”

Nemrys stilled.

“And for healing me,” you added, bowing your head. It was a sign of great trust to expose your neck to a dragon. “I cannot find the words to express my gratitude.”

After a moment, Nemrys exhaled and lowered his head as well. Glancing up, you met his gaze and felt something unspoken pass between you.

“He thinks you might find the saddle more comfortable,” Jungkook said, sounding a bit amused at the side.

Lips twitching, you took a step backwards and looked now at Jungkook. Nemrys snorted again, steam exhaled past his lips. In response to whatever he’d said, Jungkook’s cheeks turned a bit pink.

“What was that?” you asked, curious.

“Nothing.” Jungkook glared at the dragon. “Nemrys said we should go.”

Nemrys snorted once more, steam rising as he hauled himself to his feet. It did not seem Jungkook was telling you the entire truth, but the importance of this faded when you saw the saddle. It had not seemed as high when you were also a dragon.

“You sit up… there?” you asked, coming to a stop.

Jungkook hid his smile. “It isn’t as dangerous as it seems,” he insisted, placing a hand on the ladder. “You just climb all the rungs until you reach the top.”

Nodding, you placed one foot in the stirrup and firmly gripped the ladder. As you began to climb, hand over foot, you found yourself holding your breath. Eventually, you reached the top and swung a leg over.

“Careful,” Jungkook called from the ground. “I still want my healer to take a look at your shoulder.”

“I have healers, too,” you grumbled, settling onto the leather.

Jungkook climbed after you, swinging his leg over to land firmly behind you. His right hand found your waist, tugging you back until your spine met his chest. None other would dare touch the Queen in such a manner but then again, Jungkook was also a King.

“I know,” he said, his breath warm on your ear. “But mine are accustomed to dealing with magical healing.”

Unable to argue, you gripped the front of the saddle. Unconvincingly, you tried to make yourself believe it would be like riding a horse. Jungkook’s hand gripped your hip, distracting enough that you nearly forgot what you were doing.

As Nemrys bent and spread his wings, you forced your eyes shut. It was a silly thing, but you’d never flown through the skies when you were not the one in control.

You felt, rather than saw, when the ground fell away beneath you. Wind whistled past your ears, the force of gravity pressing you against Jungkook’s chest. He said nothing in response, merely curled his fingers into the hem of your tunic.

One you felt comfortable, you opened your eyes against the rushing wind.

For a moment, vertigo overtook you and you felt a bit nauseous. It felt wrong to fly in your human body, with nothing protecting you if you were to fall. The feeling only lasted a moment though, before you began to marvel at the landscape beneath you.

It looked different with your human vision – as a dragon, you could see UV as well as blue, red and green. Vision as a human was softer, the mountains before you a muted grey-green. Even the air felt colder without your dragon skin.

Unbidden, you shivered, and Jungkook’s hand tightened.

“It is different,” you breathed, staring hard at the ground.

Jungkook chuckled, low in your ear. “Different for me, too,” he admitted. “I have never flown with another person before.”

Startled, you turned and found his face close to yours. You had not thought about this when you moved, but now found yourself inches away from his lips.

“Never?” you murmured, your words caught by the wind.

“Never.”

Again, the same shiver swept your spine, so you forced yourself to face forward. The wind continued to blow, ferocious and cold, but Jungkook managed to stay warm behind you. Eyes drifting shut, you allowed yourself a moment to bask in his presence.

Only a moment before you pulled yourself together.

All too soon, you arrived at the castle courtyard. Landing in the open space by the gates, you realized a search party had already gathered. Sliding down from Nemrys, you barely paused to give thanks before hurrying on.

Midway to the castle, you saw Jimin break ranks as he jogged to see you. Scanning your frame, his silver-blonde hair blew haphazardly in the wind. Coming to a sudden stop, Jimin glanced past you, his eyes widening when he realized you’d come from Nemrys.

Before he could speak, Namjoon skidded to a stop beside him.

“Y/N,” he gasped, lowering both hands to his knees. “By the veil, you scared us.”

Guiltily, you turned. “I am sorry,” you told him. “I am fine, though. I promise. I apologize for making you worry.”

Jimin continued to stare at Nemrys. “Your Majesty. What –”

“It was my fault,” Jungkook interrupted, striding into the circle. He came to a stop alongside you, as though he belonged there. “I saw Her Majesty injure herself while out flying and insisted on escorting her back to the castle.”

Namjoon looked at you in alarm. “Is this true? Are you hurt?”

“Only a dislocation,” you assured him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Although Namjoon nodded, Jimin continued to frown.

“A dislocation,” he said slowly, his gaze flicking to yours. “While flying?”

“Momentarily blinded by the sun,” you explained. “Hit a cliff and was forced to shift back to human.”

“And… Jungkook saw?”

Both Jimin and Namjoon glanced at Jungkook, who jumped into the story without missing a beat.

“Nemrys has excellent vision,” he said with a shrug. “Better than I, that is for certain.”

Jimin still seemed suspicious, but he eventually nodded. “We are glad to see you safe, Your Majesty,” he said. “I will go and tell the search party to stand down.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jimin began crossing the courtyard, leaving you alone with Namjoon and Jungkook. You fully intended to tell Namjoon and Jimin the truth, but now was not the right moment. Too many ears were listening.

“Is Yoongi furious?” you asked lowly. “How many meetings have I missed?”

Namjoon gave a rueful smile. “He will get over it. Your meetings for the morning have been postponed. The afternoon remains.”

“Good,” you said, stepping forward. “I will just –”

“Your Majesty,” Jungkook said, and you paused. “I did hope you would see the healer on my staff before returning to duty.”

He stood to your side, looking at you earnestly. Namjoon glanced between you; his surprise further increasing when you eventually nodded.

“His Majesty is correct,” you admitted. “I do feel fine, Namjoon, but it is better to be safe than sorry. I will have things to discuss with you after.”

Namjoon slowly nodded, seeming to understand. “Anything I need to know now?”

Glancing around, you ensured no one could hear. “A Mor patrol,” you said quietly. “Barely fifteen miles south. They were the true cause of my injury, but they are no longer a worry.”

Namjoon’s brow creased even further. “Are you certain you are alright? If it was a Mor patrol, you may have–”

“I am fine,” you cut in, quiet.

Namjoon hesitated before he nodded again. “Alright. I will have Jimin send soldiers to search the surrounding mountains.”

“Thank you. Tell Yoongi I will be up as soon as I can. And have Amara send me new clothes,” you added as you walked past. “I believe it sends the wrong message to wander around in His Majesty’s leathers.”

Namjoon nearly choked on his response while turning to leave.

“Well?” You glanced sideways, at Jungkook. “What are we waiting for?”

Turning his laugh into a cough, Jungkook began to walk forward. “Nothing,” he said.

Following his footsteps, you realized he went towards the guest entrance of the castle. Jungkook had not landed near the sheds, which made sense. Dragons and riders did not take kindly to one another. You supposed you and Nemrys now made the exception.

As you entered the halls of the castle, a draft brushed your exposed skin and you shivered. Pulling Jungkook’s clothes tighter, you considered the excuse he’d fed to Jimin.

“You said Nemrys saw me from the sky,” you said, breaking the silence.

Jungkook looked your way in surprise. “Should I have said something different? You did not seem inclined to discuss your injury out there.”

“No, you are correct. However, I now find myself wondering how did you see me this morning? Did you follow me from the castle, Your Majesty?”

Coming to a halt at the next corner, Jungkook turned sideways to face you.

His gaze flickered in torchlight. “Are you accusing me of following you?”

"Merely asking.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “If you must know, I was also out for my morning ride. I saw a Mor scout and had tracked them back to that mountain when I saw you get shot.”

“How very convenient,” you said, lifting your chin.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, stepping closer. “Is it?” he murmured. “I find it tiresome to have my honor continually called into question, Your Majesty.”

“Can you blame me?” you said. “You have kept many secrets from me, it would seem. Some are more substantial than others.”

“I also saved your life.”

“A debt I am well-aware of.”

A door creaked open down the hall.

“Oh – I am sorry,” a chestnut-haired man said, peeking out. “I heard arguing and wanted to make sure no one needed my help. Carry on!”

The man was about to duck back inside, when Jungkook held up a hand.

“Wait, Hoseok,” he said, not looking away from your gaze. “I need you to do something for me.”

The man – Hoseok, it seemed – paused halfway across the threshold. His gaze slid to yours, clearly recognizing you for who you were.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly.

Jungkook nodded, turning on his heel as he strode down the hall. You were left with no choice but to follow, glaring daggers at his retreating backside. Something about the King made your blood boil, making you see red as you traveled in his footsteps.

“This is my healer, Jung Hoseok,” Jungkook said, coming to a stop. “Hoseok, this is the Queen of Ashya. I would appreciate it if you looked at her shoulder.”

Hoseok hesitated, glancing past Jungkook to you. After a moment, he nodded and stepped inside. 

“Of course,” he said with a bow. “Please, come in.”

Inclining your head, you walked past Jungkook to enter. The space past him was tidy, though there was not much light to see by, aside from the fireplace. Possibly the room had belonged to an Ashyan healer, although you could not be certain. You rarely traveled into the guest wing.

Once Jungkook had joined you, Hoseok crossed the room to pull open a cabinet. Rummaging around, he set several jars on the counter.

Jungkook lingered by the door, leaning a shoulder to the wall to stare at the healer.

Deciding the best thing to do was ignore him, you glanced away. One minute the King was tender, binding your wounds with the utmost of care and the next, he seemed ready to bite your head off. It was maddening.

Glancing around, you took in herbs, linen, and jars of salve. On the hearth was a fire, crackling merrily beneath a large, copper pot. The scents of witch hazel and thyme filled the room, a natural antiseptic.

“Hoseok is the best healer in Duret Ghal,” Jungkook said, by way of introduction.

Hoseok snorted. “I do not know about that,” he said as he turned around.

“Careful.” Jungkook arched a brow. “Her Majesty may take you at your word and see an Ashyan healer instead.”

Hoseok made an unbecoming sound before he looked up, stricken. “I did not mean insult, Your Majesty,” he said, a bit panicked. “It is only –”

“It is alright,” you interrupted. “None of my healers are accustomed to wounds healed by magic. I would prefer you look at my wound, regardless of what you have to say about Ashya.”

Hoseok shot Jungkook a surprised glance, who nodded.

“The Queen’s wounds were severe,” Jungkook said quietly. “An iron bolt to the shoulder while in dragon form. She crashed through the forest and shifted on impact. Had lost a lot of blood when I arrived.”

“I see.” Hoseok glanced your way, sympathetic. “I am so sorry to hear it, Your Majesty.”

With anyone else, you might have thought the words sounded patronizing, but not with Hoseok. He had an earnest way about him; you imagined he couldn’t tell a lie to save his soul.

“I would not care to repeat the experience,” you admitted.

Briskly, Hoseok scanned your body. “Left shoulder?”

Surprised, you said, “Yes.”

He nodded, rolling up his sleeves to walk around the table. An empty jar stayed behind on the counter, the flames from the hearth casting flickering light on the floor.

Hoseok stopped. “In order to evaluate your arm, I will need you to remove the tunic, Your Majesty. Is this alright?”

You nodded, then glanced at Jungkook.

Cheeks a bit pink, he seemed to take the hint. “I will take my leave,” Jungkook said, his hand fumbling for the door. “Should you have further need of me, Your Majesty, you may send Hoseok to find me.”

“Which might be rather difficult,” Hoseok observed. “Given Hoseok is currently tending to Her Majesty’s injury.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes but hid a smile as he left. The door fell shut behind him, leaving you and Hoseok in total silence. With a rueful smile, he glanced your way.

“Apologies,” he said with a shrug. “Jungkook and I grew up together, so we tend to forget our formalities when others are present.”

“We?” you said, arching a brow. “It seemed you were the only one forgetting your manners, healer Jung.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, unsure how to respond until you laughed.

“I am sorry,” you said with a smile. “It is cruel to tease when you do not know my nature.”

Hoseok paused before throwing his head back to laugh. Eyes shining, he wagged a finger in your direction as he walked away. “You are funny,” he said, pulling out a bowl. “It is no wonder the King seems to enjoy your company.”

“Is that so?”

Hoseok seemed not to hear your question, selecting some linen to lay on the counter. “There is a partition in the corner,” he said, nodding towards it. “Fabric is laid on the stool, so you can wrap it around your midsection for modesty.”

The partition was barely more than a folding screen, but it did the trick. Stripping free from Jungkook’s tunic, you folded it neatly and placed it on the stool. Winding the fabric around your breasts, you covered them tightly and stepped outside.

Glancing up as you exited, Hoseok set down his work. “You may sit on the stool,” he instructed. “That will do for the examination.”

Taking a seat, you waited for Hoseok to come around the counter. Gently, he took your wrist and turned it this way and that. Raising your arm, he examined its mobility until he seemed satisfied. Deft fingers moved up your arm, applying gentle pressure to several key points. When you failed to react, he prodded deeper.

Aside from the occasional twinge, you felt nothing unusual. After a while, Hoseok took a step back and nodded approval.

“Jungkook did a good job,” he said as he turned away.

“Is that all?”

“Not quite.” Hoseok stepped behind his table. “I will make you a salve, Your Majesty. This will ease any stiffness you may feel from the magical healing. Magic requires a great deal of energy, some of it yours. You may feel more tired than usual.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit thrown.

You had never questioned the toll of magic before. Yoongi had never complained about using his gift to help your council.

Pulling things from his cabinets, Hoseok began to mix and measure in a bowl. He was quiet for a while, content to do his work while you watched. After a while, he cleared his throat.

“I imagine it was a shock,” he said. “To be healed in such a manner.”

You stared at him a moment, unsure how to respond.

“It was… unexpected.”

Hoseok laughed as he looked up. “That is one way to put it,” he agreed. “The first time Jungkook healed me, I screamed like the veil was being torn apart. Thought he was trying to hex me.”

“Is such a thing even possible?” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Hoseok shrugged. “It seemed as likely as a rider having magic. I am sure Jungkook told you, but most in Duret Ghal are unaware of that particular secret.”

Silent, you nodded. Jungkook had, indeed, explained to you the image of magic in his homeland.

After a moment, Hoseok sighed. “The perceptions of Ghalians have changed greatly since the end of the Dragon Wars, but some of the fear remains. There are some who, no matter what we say, will believe magic and all Dragons are evil.”

“Not those His Majesty rides, though?”

Hoseok gave you a wry smile. “They do not view those dragons as the intelligent creatures you and I know them to be. Jungkook wishes to change that,” he said. “But it will be a difficult path. One he is determined to set upon.”

“I see.” You paused. “Forgive me for being blunt, but why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok resumed making the salve. “When Jungkook first revealed his magic to me, I was upset. He had lied. Kept something important from me for such a long time. It took me a while to understand that he, himself, did not always view his magic to be a gift.”

You stared at Hoseok a moment. 

Jungkook had seemed so confident when he healed you, and had always seemed different from the Ghalians who despised magic and Dragons. It had not occurred to you his reasons for keeping his magic a secret may have also been personal.

Hoseok was right. Changing perception within Duret Ghal would be difficult. Jungkook had taken a great risk by revealing his magic to you. A risk you did not wish to examine too closely for the moment.

“Is the examination finished?” you asked, rising from the stool.

Hoseok looked up in surprise. “Oh, yes. Feel free to get dressed, Your Majesty. I will finish this salve and send you on your way.”

You nodded and retreated behind the partition. Once you were no longer visible, you allowed yourself to fully breathe. Hoseok’s words painted a different picture of the Ghalian King. Magic had always been viewed as a gift in Ashya; you should have recognized the stigma elsewhere.

Unwinding the fabric from your torso, you returned to Jungkook’s clothing. His scent was everywhere, enveloping you fully.

It made you remember the ride with him on Nemrys, his body warm and solid behind you. Closing your eyes, you pushed this memory from mind. More and more, you found yourself considering Jungkook as a man instead of your enemy, and such thoughts were dangerous.

Fastening the belt, you stepped outside and found Hoseok waiting.

“Here,” he said, handing over a jar of salve. “If you need more, please send word and I shall bring it immediately.”

“You are too kind,” you said, accepting the bottle. “I appreciate your help, healer Jung.”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok,” you agreed with a nod.

Not wishing to overstay the welcome, you gave him a last smile and walked towards the door. One hand on the knob, you paused.

Hoseok looked up at your silence. “Yes?”

A thousand questions sprang to mind – silly, inane ones of no use to anyone. What Jungkook had been like as a child, why he’d once needed to heal Hoseok and reveal his magic. You found yourself wanting to know more, wanting to know him and again, this was dangerous.

“Nothing,” you said, pulling open the door. “Thank you again for your services.”

Hoseok nodded and smiled as you left the room. Amara was waiting for you in the hall, a fresh bundle of clothes in her arms.

“Thank Natal,” you sighed, taking the dress. “It would have caused a lot of talk had I worn the King’s clothing upstairs.”

Hiding her grin, Amara followed you inside the empty room across the corridor. Once the door was shut, she began to help you dress.

“Did you fall in a pond?” she asked innocently, tugging on your laces.

You winced while lifted your arms. “Nothing so exciting. I was caught unawares during my flight and needed to shift. My morning dress is still in the sheds, unfortunately.”

Amara nodded, finishing the final button as you turned around. “I will get it,” she said, gathering Jungkook’s clothes and the salve to exit the room.

Left alone with your thoughts, you hesitated a moment before following suit.

Jungkook had not waited for you.

You were not sure why this mattered. It didn’t – it should not and yet, you couldn’t stop the sinking feeling it somehow did. Shoving the feeling aside, you managed to seem unruffled by the time you reached your first meeting.

The day only grew longer from there.

When people imagined the duties of the crown, they typically thought of the more extraordinary parts. Being coronated, going to war, grand marshalling parades and the like.

The reality of ruling was far less glamorous. It was one tedious decision after another, with the most minute turn of phrase sparking ire or admiration. It was sitting through meeting after meeting while you listened to weather reports, updates from mines and concerns about a two and a half percent tariff still being too high.

By the time your meetings ended, the sun had long since sunk below the horizon. Wearily, you returned to your rooms and tried to forget the day. It did not seem possible only this morning, you’d feared for your life while bleeding out in the forest.

The only thing which drove you on was the thought of shutting yourself in your chambers, sinking into a bath and closing your eyes. A wish which seemed destined to be thwarted, you saw when you entered.

Min Yoongi had seated himself in an armchair by the fire, his expression steeled like a weapon of war.

“We need to talk,” he said simply.

Coming to a stop at the table, you inspected the salve Hoseok had made. He had not given any instructions on how to apply it, and you wondered if you should have Amara find out.

“Do we?” you said, lifting your gaze to his. “Need I remind you who amongst us wears the crown, Lord Yoongi?”

“And need I remind you which of us pays the other for their counsel?”

Hiding a smile, you pulled out a chair. As much as Ashya’s stability depended on your authority, you were not above thinking yourself impervious to counsel. If Yoongi had something he wished to speak to you about, it was likely important.

“Shall I guess what this is about?” you asked. “Or, are you going to eventually tell me?”

Yoongi did not waste your time. “What happened this morning?”

“I was injured during a flight.”

He made a noise of dismissal. “Are you truly telling me the Queen of Ashya was injured on a routine flight? That you spotted a Mor patrol and became so distracted, you crashed into a mountainside and dislocated your shoulder? Again,” he said, gaze hardening. “What happened?”

Slowly, you exhaled. “The truth is far less believable.”

“Try me.”

And so, you explained. Everything. Your flight this morning, the Mor patrol which had shot you down from the sky. The way you shifted to human before Jungkook arrived to heal you. You told Yoongi about Jungkook having magic, as did all riders. You explained about the different dragon lines, how they all had magic and were not unintelligent, as you had previously assumed.

Once you had finished, Yoongi stared at you and blinked. “That…” He shook his head. “Is equally insane, but at least you are now telling me the truth.”

He had questions then – many of them, and you soon settled into a familiar rhythm. Planning for different eventualities, laying out who to tell and when. Yoongi, along with Namjoon, were your sounding boards for strategy. When you’d given all the answers you could possibly provide, Yoongi fell silent, staring into the fire.

At last, he stood and walked towards the window. Pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter, he swirled this in one hand before he returned.

“This will change things,” Yoongi said, taking a sip of his drink.

“It will.”

“If what you say is true,” he said slowly. “We have acquired an entire new arsenal against Mor. Who knows what kinds of magic lie within their rider ranks? There has not been a healer born for many decades in Ashya.”

“Some of them will be passive powers,” you warned.

Yoongi waved a hand. “It is still a gift. Still magic. In all Jimin’s plans, he has only accounted for the gifts of humans between us. That number will now double! Triple, even.”

“His Majesty only revealed his magic to me because he was forced,” you countered. “We cannot count on them in upcoming battles with Mor. He could still decide otherwise.”

Yoongi gave you a look. “He said he was planning to reveal it after the treaty was signed, yes?”

“Yes, but –”

“But what, Your Majesty?” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “What reason do you have now not to trust the King? What lie could you possibly have prepared for me this evening?”

Freezing in place, you could only stare. Yoongi seldom spoke to you like this. For one, you were his Queen and for another, he usually understood you better than to yell.

After a moment, Yoongi sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. He looked tired, you realized. Hoseok’s words from earlier came to mind, about how magic required new energy. You wondered how much Yoongi had used his gift these past few weeks.

“I am sorry,” Yoongi said, and looked as though he meant it. “I did not mean to sound so harsh.”

Choosing not to respond, you waited instead for him to elaborate. Yoongi rarely said things without meaning them.

Closing his eyes, the dark of his lashes dusted paler cheekbones. The veins in his eyelids were prominent, stark against the rest of his skin.

“It can be exhausting to have a gift like mine,” Yoongi said quietly. “All day, I can sense other people’s emotions, yet cannot shut them out. It can be useful, but it is also tiresome. Oftentimes, I am not sure which emotions are mine. It is especially trying,” he said, eyes opening, “when someone continuously lies in my presence.”

“Me?” you said, taken aback. “When have I lied to you, Yoongi?”

Yoongi stared into his glass for a moment, seemingly weighing the consequences of whatever it was he had to say.

“Each time you say you do not wish to marry the King.”

You went still, staring at him from across the table. Within the confines of your chest, your heart began to beat faster.

“I do not mean you are lying on purpose,” Yoongi said, then paused. “Or maybe you are. It can be hard for me to tell. All I know is your emotions are murky each time you speak, as though you are battling something inside.”

“You think… I desire to marry His Majesty?”

Yoongi considered for a minute. “I do not know,” he admitted.

“And yet, you presume to know a great deal,” you said, drumming your fingers on the table. “Why would I turn the King down if I wished to marry him?”

“I am sure I could not say.”

“Hazard a guess.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.” He took a long sip of his drink. “When you are around Jungkook, your emotions get lighter. Happier. And yet, there is sorrow as well. I do not know if this is because of His Majesty, or the idea of marriage itself.”

Staring at Yoongi, you refused to move. He was dangerously close to hitting upon something important. Something you’d worked tirelessly to hide, even from yourself.

“Is it Leo?” Yoongi asked, a bit gentler. “Do you still love him?”

Yoongi had not served with you in the army, but he knew about your former love. Early on in your reign, you’d asked Yoongi to go about certain steps to protect Leo from harm.

“No,” you exhaled. “It has been a long time since I chose my path, and he chose his.”

“Pride, then. Perhaps you do not like the idea of ruling beside someone else.”

“It is not that,” you muttered.

“Hm.” Yoongi tilted his head. “That is the truth.”

“Stop doing that,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Perhaps it is the idea of losing your independence, then. Or possibly…” Yoongi paused as something seemed to occur to him. “Ah.”

“What? What is it?”

“It is the mating bond, is it not?”

Going utterly still, you stared at him from across the table.

“Y/N,” Yoongi said softly. “Not all marriages occur with a mating bond. Not all loves do, either. And it is still possible Jungkook could be your mate. Humans have mated with Dragons before. It is not impossible for him to–”

Realizing what he meant then, a laugh left your lips. It sounded bitter, even to you. Yoongi thought you didn’t want to marry Jungkook because he wasn’t your mate. He thought you wanted to marry for love, when the truth was the exact opposite.

“I know it is possible,” you gasped, interrupting. “I know it is possible because Jungkook is my mate, Yoongi. I have known this fact since I was seventeen and visited him for the treaty.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened as you pressed on.

“I felt it even then,” you whispered, the words pouring out. “It was hardly anything at that age, barely more than a brush of energy against my skin, but… I knew. I knew the mating bond lay between us.”

Silence fell between you, the weight of what you’d said settling over the table. Eventually, Yoongi managed to shake himself free from his stupor.

“Then what is the problem?” he demanded. “If you two are mates, surely this is even more reason for you to accept his proposal. It must be a sign from Natal.”

Jaw clenched, you looked away. The mere thought of accepting the bond brought a dull roar to your ears, twisting your insides into knots. You could never forget what occurred after your trip to Duret Ghal, nor the solemn vow you had made at your coronation.

“I cannot marry him,” you said stiffly.

Incredulity entered Yoongi’s gaze. “But Y/N –”

“I cannot,” you said, turning your head. “Yoongi, you know as well as I do how bonds like this end. How it looks, how it feels for someone to lose their mate. I vowed when I accepted the crown it would be the only constant in my life.”

Pity filled Yoongi’s gaze as realization dawned.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment. “You are not your father.”

The silence in the room drew as taut as a bowstring.

“It killed him,” you whispered. “The loss of my mother killed my father. You know this to be true. It may have taken him five years, but from the moment she died, he began to die as well. I cannot – I will not – do that to myself, or to Ashya.”

Yoongi stared at you a moment before he looked away.

It was a silent truth acknowledged throughout the Kingdom. Dragons had a long lifespan, but the mating bond was something other and strange. It only occurred once in a lifetime and was a love so deep, so true that to lose one’s mate was to lose oneself.

Your father had tried, at least. He’d stayed alive for you, for his Kingdom, but it had not been enough in the end. After five years of trying, he’d finally given in.

It was why you’d enlisted after your mother’s death. You had seen how her loss was killing your father and could not bear to be around for the process.

When you finally returned to accept the crown, you’d made your vow. The same fate would not befall you. You would not become your father and leave Ashya at risk. You would not accept the mating bond – which meant you would not accept Jungkook.

Even if every fiber of your being wished to do so.

Jungkook was not yet fully your mate. He needed to be aware of the bond, for one and you needed to accept it, for another. Tendrils already existed, but it was not the same thing as the full bond in place. Once you accepted, there would be no return.

“Not everyone views their mate as a bad thing,” Yoongi said quietly.

Startled, you looked up. “They are fools, then.”

He frowned at his glass. “Are we not all fools in love, though?”

“Precisely the reason I do not care to accept it.”

Smiling sadly, Yoongi lifted his drink and drained the rest. His expression shifted from resignation to thoughtfulness while he set down his glass.

“They say the loss of a mate is akin to ripping one’s heart from their chest,” he mused. “They say it is an unbearable pain, one which cannot be endured.”

“Are you trying to help me?”

He paused. “I only wonder… for such unimaginable pain, there must be unimaginable beauty before it. What could be so wonderful that to be without it would be close to death?” Yoongi shook his head. “Maybe the loss of a mate has no parallel because its happiness has no parallel, either.”

Struck by this statement, you looked into the fire.

“It is not a bad thing to want happiness, Your Majesty.”

Brow furrowed, you continued to stare at the leaping flames. It was not a bad thing to want happiness, but the mating bond had never meant such a thing to you.

Not until Jungkook. When he had arrived a week prior, you’d kept him at arm’s length for two reasons. One had been his title and Duret Ghal’s legacy, but the other had been self-preservation.

You could not miss what you did not know. Unfortunately, each passing day brought you closer together and you feared when he left, it would tear your heart from your chest.

Still, it was better than accepting him as your mate.

Yoongi stood from the table and stretched his arms overhead. Looking up, you appreciated the silence he gave you. The truth of the bond was something you hadn’t told anyone. To share it with him felt like a weight lifted.

“There are more negotiations tomorrow,” Yoongi said, returning to business. “With the secret of the riders’ magic revealed, we will need to factor this into our military discussions.”

“Agreed,” you said quietly.

Yoongi considered you a moment longer before he turned around. As he reached the door, Yoongi paused on the threshold.

“I understand your hesitance, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “I would not blame you if you decided not to accept him. It is only for your happiness I urge you to reconsider. Not all of us are gifted with a mate,” he said simply, and walked out the door.

As the door shut behind him, you stared at the wood.

You remained seated for some time, listening to your heartbeat, and imagining it entwined with someone else’s. This was the second secret of yours only Yoongi knew.

The other was you hadn’t wanted to accept the throne at all.

When your father had died, you’d been content to stay in the armed forces, living a life of anonymity while you served Ashya. You had planned on relinquishing the crown, but Yoongi had known and convinced you to return. He’d been the one to talk some sense into you, saying if you truly wished to serve Ashya, you’d do so best in the role you’d been born into – as its Queen.

Duty had been thrust upon you sooner than it should have; yet another reason why you resented the bond. You should not have become Queen when you did. You should not have had to accept the burden so soon and yet, you had. It had been the right course and you deeply loved this nation.

It was why you refused to put Ashya through such a thing again.

And yet, you could not help but think upon Yoongi’s words. It was not a bad thing to want happiness for yourself.

After a long time, you roused yourself from the table and went to bed.

The first time you’d felt the bond had been at the cliffs, although you had not realized what it was at the time.

It had only been later, in the middle of Duret Ghal’s gardens, you understood the gravity of what you felt for Jungkook. Or rather, what you one day might feel.

After the day you spent riding, you’d began to notice Jungkook’s presence more and more. He could usually be found in one of two places – in the palace library or out on his dragon, Nemrys. You had found yourself watching for him, somehow attuned to his presence.

Even with all this, the magnitude had not stricken you until the night of the ball. On the last night of your trip, Duret Ghal decided to celebrate both your betrothal and the anticipated treaty. No expense had been spared for the evening. Even now, you remembered the sounds of the orchestra playing, chandeliers bright above as the people laughed and danced.

At some point, you’d searched for the Prince and found him no longer inside. Curious, your search had led you out the northern doors, onto a patio which overlooked the gardens below.

Duret Ghal had been colder than Ashya, but during the summer the evening air had been pleasantly cool. Wandering away from the castle, you’d drifted amongst the flowers until you came upon him.

Jungkook had faced away from you, his hands clasped behind his back while he watched the tree above with its delicate, orange blossoms. His eyes had been closed; wayward, dark strands of hair blown over his face.

Realizing you’d intruded upon a personal moment, you turned to take your leave, and stepped on a twig. 

Jungkook’s eyes had flown open and when he saw you, he smiled.

The sight sent such simmering warmth through your chest, you’d nearly stopped breathing. White-hot energy blazed across your skin, brightening the world while you basked in his gaze.

That had been the moment you realized. Jungkook was your mate.

“I – I am sorry,” you’d stammered, turning to leave. “I am intruding–”

“Not at all.” Jungkook’s gaze sought yours in darkness. “Please. Stay.”

After a moment of consideration, you had acquiesced. The closer you moved, the more aware you’d become of his energy. Suddenly, all the wives’ tales and legends about mating made sense. The bond had been real, and you felt it for Jungkook.

Jungkook had smiled at you, then returned to the flowers. “Were you also tired of the people gathered inside?” 

“Yes,” you’d murmured.

None of the people inside had been him.

Forcing yourself to look up, you had focused on the tree. It was not a species native to Ashya; its delicate, floral scent was unfamiliar. Between its boughs, the night stars had peered down. Legends said stars were where Natal’s veil was thinnest and otherworldly magic seeped through the cracks. You liked to imagine stars held some kinship to dragons.

Jungkook had cleared his throat. “I must admit,” he’d said. “You are not at all what I imagined you to be.”

“No?”

You had turned sideways to face him in the moonlight.

“Not that it is a bad thing, mind you.”

Heart racing, you you’d smiled. Jungkook had looked your way, his expression gentle in the light from above.

“It is not?” you had whispered.

Turning fully to face you, Jungkook had stepped closer. His right hand flexed at his side, as though he had yearned to reach out and touch you.

“No,” he’d admitted.

His gaze had dropped to your lips.

Your throat had gone dry. “What were you expecting?”

“I do not know,” he’d said. “I thought I might resent you. For taking away my choice to marry. For forcing me to become King before I was ready. For reminding me duty will always be greater than our happiness.”

Each word he said had sunk your heart like a stone. It had been how you’d felt at the start of your journey, but perhaps not then.

“Now though,” he’d said, and you lifted your gaze.

“Now?”

Without quite meaning to, you’d drifted closer. The space between you had lessened to several inches, the heat from his body near-tangible.

“Now,” Jungkook had said, barely audible. “I find myself intrigued by what the future will hold.”

Before you could respond to this, before you could say you felt the same, a shout had echoed throughout the gardens.

“Prince Jungkook!” someone had called.

Springing apart, your heart had protested the movement. You had known then exactly who Jungkook was. He was your mate, your betrothed and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed a magical place.

One month following, his Uncle had staged his rebellion.

Soon after, you’d learned what the mating bond truly meant.

The world had not seemed quite so wondrous after that.

“So.” Jimin arched a brow. “I assume you have brought us out at this unseemly hour to do more than stare at one another through the mist, Your Majesty.”

Giving Jimin a withering look, you chose not to respond.

Yesterday had been full of meetings with little importance to the Ghalian treaty. After telling Yoongi of your vow and bond, you’d found yourself more aware of Jungkook’s presence than ever before.

Everything which had taken place over the past forty-eight hours resulted in three facts. The first being, you could not afford to spend more time in the King’s presence. Already, your façade of indifference was crumbling and would only worsen as time went on.

Second, Mor had become bolder in their travels north. It would only be a matter of time before war arrived on your borders. You needed to be prepared.

Which led you to your third point. Jungkook’s reveal of magic could turn the tide of the war; it needed to be factored into your discussions as soon as possible. Which was why you’d asked Jungkook to bring whomever he deemed appropriate to the field this morning.

Glancing around, you found Jungkook looking back. He was dressed in his flying leathers again, simple armor reinforced at the joints with lighter metal. No breastplate, his hair unadorned and a broadsword strapped firmly across his back.

He’d brought Taehyung with him, along with the woman rider you’d seen at the feast and Lord Seokjin. The last one had surprised you, since you hadn’t thought Seokjin a rider. From Ashya, you’d brought Jimin, Namjoon and Yoongi.

“We are not here to stare,” you explained to Jimin. “But to fly.”

Jimin hesitated. “With each other,” he clarified.

It was not a question but a statement, and the woman rider across the circle seemed to share in his sentiment. She stared distrustfully at the group gathered on your side.

Yoongi squinted up at the sky. “Why am I here, then?” he wondered aloud.

“To observe,” you informed.

“Scintillating,” he said, looking down.

Namjoon laughed as several other people attempted to hide their smiles. Ignoring all this, you focused instead on Jungkook’s delegation.

“I believe I have met everyone except you,” you said, looking at the woman.

“Maia,” she said, boldly meeting your gaze. “I am a rider in His Majesty’s forces.”

“One of our best,” Jungkook added, as Taehyung nodded.

Maia had large, dark eyes and short hair bound in a plait down her neck. Her features were pretty, delicate in contrast to her hardened exterior. You respected her for being in the delegation but found yourself appreciating her even more for her no-nonsense response.

Nodding once, you looked away. The pride in Jungkook’s voice when he spoke had not escaped you; nor had the way Maia glanced in his direction, as though pleased by the mention.

Jungkook was not yours to want, you reminded yourself. You’d made sure of this with the vow you continued to uphold. Still, you felt your jaw clench as you refocused on your surroundings.

“Is this a serious request?” Jimin asked in disbelief. “You truly wish for us to fly alongside the riders.”

Pointedly, Seokjin cleared his throat. “I believe it is not considered polite to question the Queen’s sanity in her presence?”

Jimin glanced at him, stunned as Yoongi started to laugh. His smile widened, eyes nearly disappearing when Jimin turned to face him, incensed.

“What?” Yoongi snorted. “That was funny.”

“Regardless,” you said, a bit louder. “There is much to discuss. His Majesty has shared information about the riders, their dragons and what they can do which may change the battle against Mor.”

Maia’s glanced at Jungkook in disbelief, and she was not the only one. Taehyung also turned his head sharply, which surprised you. You had thought Jungkook would tell his general he’d revealed his magic in the woods.

It appeared not. Seokjin was the only one who did not look surprised, examining the nails on the back of his hand.

“What the riders can do,” Namjoon said, picking up on the key phrase. “I assume you refer to something other than flying, Your Majesty?”

“I do, yes.”

When you looked at Jungkook, he nodded.

“She is referring to our ability to use magic,” he explained. “The bond which links rider to dragon allows us to do more than just ride them. It grants us access to their magic, similar to humans who are born with a gift.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, as did Jimin’s.

Both listened as Jungkook went on to explain the history of dragons and magic on the continent. When Jungkook healed a paper cut Namjoon had on his thumb, your advisor gasped and looked on in wonder.

“A healer.” He shook his head. “Truly amazing. How large of an injury can you heal?” Namjoon asked, and you knew he was already thinking ahead to battle.

Someone like Jungkook behind the front lines, healing soldiers as they were injured, could provide an untold advantage.

“He healed me in the woods the other day,” you informed them. “A Mor patrol shot me down with a crossbow, and His Majesty saved my life.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “It would seem we are in your debt then, Your Majesty,” he told Jungkook, seeming displeased by the thought.

Jungkook merely shook his head.

“Let us not speak of debt, Jimin,” you said before Jungkook could speak. “If we are to work together, we must stop thinking of our relationship as a ledger. Instead, we must learn to work as a unit.”

Yoongi arched a brow, clearly amused by your shifted stance.

“Hence our flying this morning,” Jungkook agreed.

Looking his way, you nodded.

This was what you’d decided after your conversation with Yoongi. Although you had not changed your mind about accepting Jungkook’s proposal, the least you could do was set aside your own differences. If you chose not to accept him as your mate, that was your decision – but first and foremost, you were Ashya’s Queen.

You had made a vow to do whatever you could for your country, and this meant working closely with the Ghalians.

“Is it only healing magic?” Namjoon asked, sounding curious. “Or are there other kinds?”

Rather than answer, Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who rolled up his sleeves. Walking out of the circle, he came to a stop several paces away.

“There are other kinds of magic,” Taehyung said, and it was one of the first times you’d ever heard him speak.

Taehyung’s voice had a deep, earthen quality. It was soothing, rhythmic and you stared at him with interest as he spread his hands.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Taehyung closed his eyes and storm clouds began to gather. You stared at the sky as it darkened, russet-tipped thunderheads swirling overhead. As the wind whipped his hair, Taehyung opened his eyes and you saw they’d turned silver.

A bolt of lightning shot from his palms, lighting the sky above a deep purple. He let the tempest continue until his point had been made. Then, teeth gritted, Taehyung lowered his arms and allowed the clouds to disperse. As quickly as they’d come, the clouds disappeared, leaving only mist and the rising sun.

Everyone from Ashya stared.

“His dragon is a stormmaker,” Jungkook explained. “It is rare for one of their kind to bond with a human. It has not happened within living memory.”

Yoongi was the first to regain himself. “Do all riders have magic?”

“No,” answered Maia. “It is similar to when a Dragon and human have a child. The child does not always have a gift. It is the same with riders and dragons. I, for example, have no magic.”

“Yes, but you have a dragon,” Yoongi pointed out, which made her smile.

“I do have that,” she acknowledged.

Almost sheepish, Taehyung rejoined the circle with his hands in his pockets. His gaze had returned to dark brown, but you could not seem to shake the memory of silver. It was a tremendous power you could use on the battlefield.

Abruptly, you turned to Jungkook. “How were you planning to keep that a secret?” you demanded, waving a hand. “I should think it would have been obvious once your rider started throwing lightning around.”

“Hence why we planned on explaining after the treaty,” Jungkook said mildly.

“All this time.” Namjoon finally found his voice. “Magic in Duret Ghal has been passed down by the riders, not Dragons?”

“Both,” Seokjin corrected. “Riders cannot pass on their magic to their children. It is only the offspring of Dragon and human who can be born with gifts. Like your advisor,” he said, nodding to Yoongi.

Yoongi arched a brow. You had not spoken openly about his magical abilities, but you supposed word got around.

Namjoon continued to frown. “Most peculiar,” he said slowly. “When a shapeshifting Dragon mates with a human, their offspring can inherit one of many magical gifts. Not just shapeshifting.”

“Uzza, my dragon, has a theory about that,” Taehyung offered. “He believes dragons have a more fixed nature than humans. When magic is passed down through dragons, it remains the same, but with humans… we are more fluid.” He paused, then shrugged. “Magic becomes whatever form the human is closest to.”

“Fascinating,” Namjoon breathed.

“Which is why I asked the King and his riders to join us this morning,” you announced. “Once the treaty is finalized, we will fight together against Mor. It is time we learned how to use everything in our arsenal.”

Jimin, who had remained silent throughout the demonstration, finally nodded.

Despite his personal feelings towards Duret Ghal, he would always place Ashya above all else. If the magic of the riders was something you could use to your advantage, Jimin would be the one who figured out how to do it.

Still, you knew this must hurt. You were not the only one who noticed Jimin’s reticence. Taehyung had been watching your commander from across the circle, and he now cocked his head as he took a step forward.

“You are Park Jimin, are you not?” he asked.

Jimin met Taehyung’s gaze. “I am.”

Taehyung nodded. “I have heard stories of you, both on and off the battlefield. Neither of us led our respective armies when your father was killed,” he said, a bit quieter. “But all the same, I am sorry for your loss.”

Jimin’s eyes glinted. “Sorrow does not bring back the dead.”

“No, it does not.”

Jimin stared at him a moment, until some of the anger faded from his gaze. Finally, he looked at the castle and exhaled.

“Are we to fly this morning?” he asked, returning to you. “If we are, we should probably go before the sun gets too high.”

You nodded, uncertain what had just transpired.

“We should leave, then.” Jimin turned away. “I will need to know the full capabilities of your riders. General Kim,” he called out as he walked. “Can you control the lightning, or merely call it?”

Taehyung fell into step alongside him, discussing strategy as they left the field. You watched them go, amazed Jimin had released his past so easily.

Namjoon sighed. “Must I fly as well, Your Majesty?”

You hid a smile. “If you truly wish to stay on the ground…”

Grumbling beneath his breath, Namjoon turned to follow Jimin across the field. You knew you should go as well, but something within seemed to hold you back.

“And what about you?” you asked, glancing at Seokjin. “Are you a rider?”

Seokjin grimaced. “No, Your Majesty. My mother sent me to the bonding ceremony, but all I succeeded in was falling off several dragons.”

“It is where we met though,” Jungkook said, jumping in. “I admired his honesty and wit. Enough that, when I became King, I requested Lord Seokjin be appointed to my closest court.”

“His honesty has been well-noted,” Yoongi said drily.

Maia laughed, her features losing some of their earlier tension. Yoongi glanced her way in surprise, a pleased flush spreading across his cheeks.

In the background, the steady beat of wings filled the air. When you turned, you saw Jimin in Dragon form rising above the sheds. His scales were a dazzling gold, sparkling as he flew across the morning sun.

Taehyung had joined atop his dragon, Uzza. Uzza had scales of slate grey, faded to blue along his spine and his shoulders.

As you watched them both fly, a bout of longing swept through you. Seeing a rider and Dragon fly alongside one another had not been something deemed possible before.

Their wings were swiftly drowned out by Nemrys’ arrival, who circled once overhead before landing beside Jungkook. Bowing, you kept your gaze fixed on his. Nemrys inclined his head in turn, then released a snort.

Jungkook grinned. “He wishes to know if you plan on being shot again.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to walk away. Jungkook laughed at the sight, the sound of it echoing as you crossed the field.

Once inside a shed, you stripped quickly from your gown and laid this on the bench. Only a few days ago, you’d assumed dragons mostly unintelligent and now, one of them was insulting you. The realization made you smile.

It made the world seem wider, somehow. As though more things were possible than you’d previously thought.

Shifting quickly to Dragon form, you lifted from the ground and hovered above the sheds. In the distance, you could see Taehyung alongside Jimin on his dragon. Glancing west, you spotted Namjoon and Maia rising to join them.

Namjoon’s scales were a deep purple, a jewel-tone Ashyan miners would envy. Maia’s dragon, whom you did not know the name of, was a grey pale enough to be confused with blue. As you flew towards their group, Taehyung pointed from his dragon, Uzza.

Craning your neck, you saw Jungkook on the ground. He watched from below, wind whipping his hair as Nemrys beat his wings. Leaning down, he murmured something to Nemrys, who bent his legs and took off. Far below, you heard Seokjin whoop.

With a roar, Jimin dove towards the ground. Taehyung followed suit, along with Namjoon and Maia. Once Jungkook had reached you atop Nemrys, you joined in the show.

It was strange to fly as a group. Dragons were solitary creatures, only banding together when necessary for survival. When you did fly with others, you communicated through a combination of flame and roars, signaling what direction you were about to take.

Soaring higher, you turned your head and saw Jungkook beside you. From the back of Nemrys, he grinned and something warm bloomed in your chest. You recalled what it felt like to fly with him, against him. Something within you ached to feel this again.

This was not the time to reminisce though, so you attempted to focus on the moment at hand. That first flight didn’t last long – you were still monarchs, after all, and the day remained before you. Still, your heart felt lighter when you landed on the ground.

For a first foray between nations, things had gone relatively smoothly. Even Yoongi seemed pleased by the progress, speaking with Taehyung and Jimin as they returned to the castle. The success of today made the impossible seem possible.

Including some things you’d never let yourself imagine.

Jungkook’s face while he flew, his eyes bright and smile wide, played like a loop again and again in your mind.

After another full day of negotiations, the treaty between you and Duret Ghal began to come together. It was a good thing, since Jungkook and his delegation would leave in the next couple of days.

Preparing for sleep that night, you reached for the jar of salve Hoseok had given you and found it empty. You’d applied it every morning and night, whenever the muscle ached, or you found yourself tired. It had helped a great deal, so now you hesitated. Flying this morning had been strenuous on your muscles.

Amara had left, gone to visit her family in the city for the evening. In her absence, you strode across your room and opened the door to the hall. You instructed one of your guards to bring the empty jar to Hoseok and ask for a refill.

While you waited for them to return, you changed into a nightgown and robe. You had just finished washing your face when a knock came from the hall. Expecting the guard returned with your salve, you strode from your chambers and pulled open the door.

You found yourself face to face not with a guard, but with Jungkook.

“Your Majesty,” you said, freezing in place. “I – to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, then pulled a jar from behind his back. “I brought the salve from Hoseok,” he said. “I heard you were in need of more.”

“I am.” You blinked. “But you did not need to do that.”

His gaze searched yours, lingering when he dropped to your parted robe. Although you wore a nightgown beneath, you were suddenly aware of the sheer material.

Hastily, you closed the robe tighter.

Cheeks reddening, Jungkook looked up. “It was no trouble,” he said, only to pause. “May I come in, Your Majesty? I do have something I wish to discuss.”

“Ah, so there is an ulterior motive.”

Despite the humor in your voice, you hesitated. Glancing past him, you saw your guards and decided whatever Jungkook had to say, it was best to hear it in private.

“Alright,” you said, stepping aside. “You may come in.”

Surprise crossed his face, though it quickly disappeared. Nodding his thanks, Jungkook entered the room as you shut the door. You stared at it for a moment, gathering your courage before you turned around.

You’d brought many men to your chambers over the years. Yoongi had been in here only the other night, but something about Jungkook’s presence felt different. He was too big, taking up a space no one else could.

Perhaps it was this bond you felt for him, this tingling down your spine at having him so near. Your very soul ached for him, even as you denied him.

Jungkook wandered inside, taking in the décor. A fireplace took up much of the north wall, light flickering over the rug at your feet.

Coming to a stop at the table, Jungkook set down the jar.

“Why did you come?” you asked quietly.

Turning around, Jungkook found your gaze.

You realized the very real danger you were in. Not because Jungkook was your mate. He was, yes, but it was so much more than that. You genuinely enjoyed his company. You found yourself listening for his remarks when you sat by his side, trying not to laugh whenever he made a joke.

It was hard to separate the supernatural from the natural when it came to Jungkook. In a world where mates did not exist and souls were cast adrift, you thought you might have loved him even then. 

Perhaps this was the true magic of the mating bond, after all. Rather than let you wonder, Natal brought you an equal, someone who’d uplift your spirit rather than drag you under.

“You asked for additional salve,” Jungkook said again.

“I did.” You cocked your head. “A servant could have brought that, though – or Hoseok, if he chose.”

“Indeed, he could have.”

A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression at this, gone before it could be fully realized. He took a step closer, skirting the table to come to a stop. With his height what it was, you were forced to look upwards to see him.

“The soldiers Jimin sent to search the mountains returned this afternoon,” Jungkook informed you. “They found no other Mor patrols so close to Ashya.”

“That is good to know,” you said with a nod. “We will need all the time we can to formulate a plan of attack.”

Thus far, Mor had made no overt advances against you. There had been skirmishes on the southern border, a few miles gained or lost with occasional pushes, but nothing serious. Mor’s full army remained within their own land, biding their days until they chose to strike.

It was only a matter of time before things boiled over. It made sense for Jungkook to discuss Mor’s movements with you, but he’d never visited your chambers to do so before.

“Is there something else you came here to say?” 

Jungkook arched a brow. “Is it possible I might have come simply to enjoy your presence?”

“You could have.”

“Then, what is the problem?”

“The problem,” you said, narrowing your gaze, “is you seem to be the kind of person who says one thing and means another.”

His gaze darkened. “I suppose you would know, Your Majesty.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rather than answer this, Jungkook turned away. Staring out the window, he seemed to consider his words before he turned back.

“You are a conundrum, Your Majesty,” he said at last.

You sniffed. “That sounds like something a man might say when he does not understand a woman.”

“You are right,” Jungkook said lowly. “For I do not understand you at all.”

This made you blink. It was your own words from the night of the feast, thrown back in your face.

“In what way?” you demanded.

“We knew each other before, and yet you pretend to be strangers. You fight so valiantly for your own kind and yet, keep them at arm’s length. You decline my proposal of marriage,” he said, taking a step closer, “and yet, you consider a political union with another.”

You stared at him for a moment, utterly thrown. “A union with whom?”

“Lord Declan.”

A laugh escaped before you could help it. “Lord Declan is not my betrothed.”

“He tells people he is.”

“Then he is a liar,” you ground out.

Jungkook paused. “Did you consider his offer?”

“I considered your offer, as well.”

“Which you declined.”

“I shall decline him as well, should he ever gather the courage to actually ask me.”

Jungkook hesitated at this, curiosity entering his gaze.

“Why, though?” he asked, a tad softer. “Why decline everyone who asks for your hand? Is there someone else? The man who taught you to sign in the army, perhaps.”

At this, your eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Merely a guess,” Jungkook said quietly.

Looking abruptly away, he rubbed his thumb to his forefinger in an anxious gesture. You wished he would stop. The gesture made him seem far too human, far too genuine, and tempting and true.

Before you could consider the ramifications, you said, “I do not love someone else.”

You were not sure why you said it. Certainly, it would have been easier for Jungkook to think your heart belonged to another and yet, you could not bear to watch the light fade from his eyes.

Jungkook turned his head to see you. “So, it is me, then,” he said quietly.

“No. And also, yes.”

He frowned. “Clear as mud, Your Majesty.”

You laughed, although there was no humor to it. “What do you expect me to say? That you have convinced me after a week of interactions? That I am awed by your presence, Your Majesty? Is this what you seek in return for healing me in the forest? My hand in marriage?”

Jungkook looked stricken. “No,” he breathed. “Not that. Never that. I would never demand such a thing.”

Something in you softened at his sincerity.

“Then, what?” you asked quietly. “What is it?”

“I just… I wish you would tell me why.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you glanced away. It was a fair question. Jungkook had been nothing but good in the time he’d been here. It occurred to you suddenly that by choosing not to mate, you were taking away his one chance at the bond, as well.

Slowly, you turned back to face him. “I made a vow,” you said, so soft you could hardly hear. “When I became Queen, I vowed I would never marry. It is not something I can turn my back on.”

It was a half-truth, but enough for now.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed. “Why would you make such a vow?”

“Many reasons,” you said. “The main being I wish to belong only to myself and my country. Anything else, and I would do my people a disservice. When I accepted the crown, I said Ashya would always come first.”

The way Jungkook was staring at you made you feel on display, as though he saw through to your very soul and knew what you were made of.

“It is a tricky slope, is it not?” he said at last, stepping closer.

This step brought him within touching distance, the heat of his body seeming to reach out to yours. Something golden and strong brightened between you.

“What do you mean?” 

Jungkook did not look away. “Is the best version of yourself the one without help? Without support? You say you do not wish to do your people a disservice, but is it a disservice to lead while you are unhappy?”

“And you think... marrying you would make me happy?”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his gaze soft. “All I know is the life you speak of does not sound like a life at all.”

Having no response to this, you could only stare when Jungkook took your hand in his. Lifting your hand, he kept his gaze on yours. As he lowered his gaze, his lips slowly brushed the back of your fingers.

When he released you, you found you could not move, could hardly breathe. It seemed impossible to hide your reaction when Jungkook looked up.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly it hurt and yet, something continued to hold you back. All you could see when you looked at Jungkook was the pain in your father’s eyes when he learned your mother had died.

“I will take my leave,” Jungkook said when you did not respond. “It has been a long day, and you must be tired.”

You nodded, unable to do more than that when he turned to go.

Halfway to the door, you had the sudden urge to do something. To call out, to ask him to come back, to reveal the bond you felt strengthening between you.

In the end you did none of it. The fear of being broken was greater than your want to be whole.

Jungkook turned at the door. “My offer will stay until I go,” he said before he went.

The door shut behind him, leaving you in silence. Exhaling, you walked to the table and uncapped a decanter. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you sat before the fire and drank every drop.

It was a long time before you managed to fall asleep that night.

During your flight the next morning, you went north instead of south. Although Jimin had not found additional Mor patrols, your run-in with them had increased your caution. Soaring above the tree line, the sun brightening the horizon, your heart felt heavier than it had in a while.

When you finally landed and hurried inside, you were entirely alone.

For the first time, this did not strike you as such a good thing.

Independence had always been one of your most prized possessions. Your crown had stripped you of so much – your youth, freedom, and the first man you’d loved. Now though, you wondered what you’d given up by clinging to your ideals so tightly.

You did not have much time to consider it. The ball for Duret Ghal was tonight, and the day after tomorrow, their delegation would leave. You would sign the treaty in the morning and then they would be off.

Jungkook’s offer of marriage would disappear with it.

Amara had outdone herself with your dress for the evening. It was crimson in color, falling in gauzy pleats from a golden, metal bodice. Amara had dusted gold powder across your shoulders, resulting in a shimmering aura.

Red was neither the color of Ashya, nor of Duret Ghal. It was the color of fire, of passion – and of love, you realized with a twisting stomach.

Again, Yoongi was your escort and even his eyes widened as you stepped out the door.

“You are going to give someone a heart attack,” he chuckled, extending his arm.

You merely shook your head as you walked down the hall. The crown you wore tonight was gold, as well. A relic from an ancient Queen of Ashya before the colors had changed to silver and green.

“I am sure they will be fine,” you responded. “It is not as though I plan on shifting in the middle of a waltz.”

“It would certainly liven things up if you did.”

Although you gave Yoongi a look, you quickly fell silent as you approached the ball. Beyond the shut doors, you could hear muffled noises of music and laughter.

“Did Namjoon tell you about the dancing?”

Sharply, you turned your head. “No, he did not. What dancing?”

“Apparently, it is the custom in Duret Ghal for their monarch to lead the first dance.”

“I wish His Majesty the best of luck, then.”

Yoongi hid a smile. “You will need to dance also, Your Majesty.”

“Why is that?”

“Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the concept of balls,” Yoongi mused. “Typically, there is food, dancing, general merriment…”

“I know what a ball is, Yoongi.”

“You seemed confused by the prospect of dancing, though.”

“By the prospect of dancing with His Majesty, yes.”

“Now I am the one who is confused, because –”

“Fine,” you ground out as the doors began to open. “I will dance the first song with His Majesty. Nothing more.”

Yoongi grinned, patting your arm as you entered the room.

The ballroom had been lavishly decorated for tonight’s event. Taking it in, you passed over iced draperies, flowers and foliage spilling from every surface. People were gathered throughout, leaving room in the center of the ballroom for you to dance. An orchestra sat poised in the corner, awaiting your entrance to start the first song.

As you and Yoongi descended the spiral staircase, you only had eyes for the opposite side, where the delegation from Duret Ghal already stood. To where Jungkook was standing, watching your entrance.

His robes were similar to those he’d worn at the feast, although the colors tonight were black and gold. Long robes cut to mid-calf, tied in the middle by a black sash. Sigils of gold had been stitched into the fabric, with a thin chain of gold curved across his chest.

Lifting your gaze, your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook’s hair had been bound in a half-bun, the dark tresses broken only by his golden crown.

Walking closer to him under the lights, everything else seemed to fade. Despite your best efforts, something between you had shifted and now that it had, you couldn’t turn back.

You started imagining what the future would look like beside him. Not a future where you were lesser, but rather where you had support. Strength, like he had offered. Oddly enough, the image did not scare you as it once did.

Stepping onto the dais to turn around, you looked at the crowd. In your peripheral, you could see Jungkook looking at you. Ignoring him, you focused instead on your racing heart. You could almost feel it beat in tandem to his, yearning to run at the same pace.

It was not necessary to greet your guests, nor give a speech of pretty words. Instead you simply turned to face him as the music began. Jungkook held out his hand, waiting until you placed your palm over his.

Jungkook’s fingers curled about yours, leading you on the dance floor. People parted as you walked, leaving a space at the center. Jungkook pulled you to face him, placing a hand on your waist as you settled yours on his shoulder.

You looked up. Meeting your gaze, Jungkook took a step backwards to lead you in the first move.

His grip on you tightened as he led you in a spin. Jungkook was a good dancer, although this did not surprise you. By this point he could have announced he was the goddess Natal, herself, and you would have taken it in stride.

This image made you smile, unable to stop it as he swept you around.

“Why are you smiling?” Jungkook asked, his voice low.

Startled, you glanced up and wished you had not. This close, you could see everything, and it made your heart ache.

“I was imagining something funny,” you murmured.

Jungkook’s hand slid to the small of your back. Heat scalded your spine, making your head spin.

“Not about me, I hope,” Jungkook said, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“And if it were?”

His grip on you tightened. “I would like to know the joke.”

Looking up, you met his gaze. “Does it ever tire you?”

Jungkook blinked.

Others had joined the dance at this point, entering the floor in a promenade. Multicolored skirts and robes swept circles around you, leaving you floating at the center of it all.

“Does what ever tire me?” Jungkook asked.

“This,” you said, glancing at your surroundings. “The pressure. The weight. The constant duties, expectations and never-ending loneliness of wearing our crowns.”

For a moment, Jungkook was silent, and you feared you’d overstepped. Then he exhaled, pulling you closer. His thumb brushed against the bare curve of your back.

“Every day,” he admitted.

Before you could respond, the song came to an end.

Couples stepped apart, talking, and laughing in the lull between songs. You and Jungkook stared at one another, the only two in the room as far as you were concerned. For so long, you had convinced yourself having a mate would be a bad thing.

Perhaps it was for some. For your parents, their bond had ended tragically, this was for certain. But for the first time, you wondered if keeping yourself from happiness because you didn’t want to be hurt might simply be a different kind of hurt itself.

When a hand tapped you on the shoulder, you nearly jumped.

Whirling around, you found Lord Declan before you. You stared at him for a few moments, wondering why he was here.

“Your Majesty.” Lord Declan bowed low at the waist. “Would you do me the honor of having the next dance?”

Of course – this was a ball. You would be expected to dance with others, not only Jungkook. Feet faltering, you glanced sideways but before you could decline, Jungkook took a step back.

“She is all yours,” he said, turning around.

Jungkook disappeared, his midnight-colored robes swishing about his ankles. Lord Declan closed in, forcing your attention away as the orchestra began the next song.

“Yes,” you said, trying to focus. “You may, Lord.”

Lord Declan entered where Jungkook had left off, his right hand slipping beneath yours as his other found your waist. His touch felt wrong, as though you’d put the opposite glove on your hand.

“How fortunate the first dance of the night was a short one,” Lord Declan said with a chuckle.

Startled, you glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I envy your patience, Your Majesty,” he continued, oblivious to your tone. “Had I been forced to spend so long these past weeks in the presence of riders…” Breaking off, he shuddered. “Your control is exemplary.”

Had Lord Declan been a wise man, he might have noticed the heat simmering in your gaze. Or the way your spine stiffened, a lone muscle ticking in your jaw. As it were though, Lord Declan was not a smart man, and so he continued to throw caution to the wind.

You were not certain when you’d become so defensive of Jungkook, but the fact remained the Lord’s comments made you see red.

“I do not know that I would call my control exemplary,” you said, your tone deceptively light. “Indeed, my Lord, I find my courtiers often say things I find infuriating.”

Lord Declan paused, clued in by your choice of words.

“If I have said something to offend Your Majesty…”

His steps were not as graceful as Jungkook’s, nearly stepping on your toes as you turned around. Dodging the gesture, you glanced aside and realized Jungkook had not left the dance floor. Instead, he danced with Maia at the edge of the room. While you were watching, Jungkook threw his head back and laughed.

Unpleasantness curdled your stomach despite your insistence he was not yours to want.

“You have said something to offend me, Lord,” you said, returning to Declan. “Either you are ignorant or stupid, and I pray to Natal you are not both.”

Lord Declan stared, his jaw sagging a little.

“We face an enemy,” you said, voice lowering. “Our enemy is not Duret Ghal, nor is it their riders. I suggest you cease speaking such heresy before I wonder if the mines your family owns would do better in the hands of someone else.”

His eyes widened. “Your Majesty, I do not think –”

“Then we are in agreement,” you said, dropping your arms to take a step back.

Turning around, you stalked towards the edge of the dance floor, barely managing to keep your steam in check. When you glanced again at the offending corner, Jungkook and Maia had disappeared.

Driven by a mix of emotions you dared not name, you slipped beyond the courtiers and out a side door. Eyes closed, you allowed the night air to wash over you. Coming to a stop at the edge of the gardens, you opened your eyes to take in the Thadal mountains.

It was colder than it had been a few weeks ago. The winter solstice was coming, and your human skin could only protect you from so much. Still, you could not stomach returning to the party and so, you kept walking, entering the dark hedges.

You let yourself wander, following the twists and turns with nothing but your heart as its guide. When you turned a corner and found Jungkook before you, it almost was not a surprise.

The moment was overlaid with another memory, from ten years prior. The night you’d realized Jungkook was your mate and looked to the future with wonder.

He was alone again, facing away as he stared into an empty, cracked basin. The fountain had been turned off for the winter and before you could speak, Jungkook sighed.

“Were you not enjoying the party?” he asked.

Walking forward, you came to a stop beside him. “I might ask you the same thing,” you said, staring into the basin. “I saw you enjoying yourself during the last dance.”

Jungkook turned his head.

“Are you jealous, Your Majesty?” he murmured, his gaze flinty.

“Merely noting the obvious,” you said, refusing to face him. “You call me a conundrum and yet, you dance with another woman while proposing marriage to me.”

“One dance.”

“So, there has never been anything between you?”

Jungkook paused. “I will not pretend to have been celibate these past ten years. Neither should you, Your Majesty.”

Looking at him, you attempted to calm the roiling feelings within you. It was not right to feel like this. Not right to be jealous, to berate him when you continued to decline his offer.

“Am I correct,” he said, his voice low, “in thinking you do not want me for yourself, yet you do not want anyone else to have me either?”

“That… that is not fair.”

“Perhaps you know how I feel, then,” Jungkook said, his gaze hardening.

Startled, your eyes widened as he took a step closer. Coming to a stop right before you, Jungkook looked down.

“Watching you entertain other men,” he said hotly. “Watching you dance with other men, consider other men while you continue to deny what lies between us. What we are to one another. My former betrothed. And my mate,” he added, his gaze like dark fire.

Speechless, you could only stare in response.

Jungkook knew.

He knew and had said nothing this entire time. You wondered when he’d realized but lost your head entirely when he lifted a hand. Pressing his thumb beneath your chin, Jungkook tipped your head up.

Bending, he brushed your lips against his. The kiss was chaste, sweet – and wildfire erupted in response. Before you could stop yourself, your hand had fisted in his robes to drag him down. You kissed him back hungrily, fiercely as the heat consumed you.

Jungkook seemed to burn just as bright, crushing you close. His arms wrapped around you, tongue eagerly flicking against your lower lip. When you parted beneath him, he licked into your mouth. Inhaling his scent, you wanted him closer.

It was not at all how you’d imagined it to be.

You had thought once you gave in, it would feel like erasing yourself. Removing the old to make way for the new, but it was not like that at all. Letting him in only made you feel stronger.

Thumbs skimming your cheeks, Jungkook angled you upward and kissed you again. He drew a shuddering breath before he forced himself to stop.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he stared at you, his chest rising and falling.

“If you do not want this, though.” Hoarse, his thumbs caressed your skin. “I do not wish to force it upon you. You should not marry me because of a bond, Your Majesty. Nor should you because you think it’s what’s best for Ashya. I want you to marry me because you want to. Nothing more.”

When you did not respond, Jungkook’s expression began to shutter and he took a step backwards. His hands fell to his sides, the air between you turning cold.

All too late, you realized you’d waited too long. You should have said something immediately, should have done something other than kiss him like a maniac.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said. “For the hospitality you’ve shown Duret Ghal these past weeks. Whatever your feelings are for me, I look forward to signing the treaty tomorrow.”

Before you could say anything more, Jungkook walked past you and left the gardens. You were left alone beside an empty basin.

You stayed there for a while, staring at the looming Thadal mountains, and wondering how in the world you had gotten things so wrong.

When you returned to the proceedings of the ball, Yoongi was smart enough not to ask where you had been. He seemed to know anyways, based on the look on your face.

Stiffly you stood and surveyed the dancing couples. Whenever you cared to look, you caught glimpses of Jungkook on the opposite side.

You tried not to, but this proved to be difficult now that you knew. Jungkook knew you were his mate. You knew what his lips tasted like. All of this you knew and could not forget.

It was his last words which ran again and again through your mind. Jungkook knew you were his mate and yet, he’d said nothing because he wanted you to choose him for him. It was such a foolhardy, romantic notion it made your heart ache.

Even with Leo, you had not felt this way. If you had been honest, you had known your relationship would be doomed from the start. Leo had never challenged you in ways which made you grow. You’d kept him at arm’s length, never giving him the opportunity to know your true self. 

After the death of your parents, you’d been in a dark place. You had made the vow not to marry out of an attempt to protect yourself. Perhaps you’d grown beyond needing such things.

The next time you looked, Jungkook was looking back.

He glanced away quickly, but he’d looked. The realization made you take a step forward but before you could go to him, Yoongi leaned in.

“What did you say to him when you danced?”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. You thought Yoongi meant Jungkook but then realized he looked at Lord Declan. Declan seemed flustered, pointedly looking anywhere but at you while Lord Larkin glared from across the room.

You stifled a snort. “Only the truth.”

“Which was?”

“That like it or not, Duret Ghal are our allies, so they better start acting like it.”

Quietly, Yoongi laughed as he straightened. “No wonder his father looks as though he swallowed something sour.”

Guiltily, you looked away. “I am sorry if I caused you trouble,” you said, knowing Yoongi would be the one to clean it up. “It is only –”

“You were right.” Yoongi nodded. “The world is changing, and they can either change with the times or be left behind. I am glad you said something.”

Shooting him a grateful look, you glanced again across the room and realized Jungkook had disappeared. Scanning the rest of the ball, you spotted some of his delegation but not their King. Maia was dancing with Namjoon and to your surprise, you realized Taehyung had asked Amara to dance.

Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Despite his absence, you forced yourself to stay until Yoongi deemed it socially acceptable for you to leave. The last thing you wanted was to put the treaty in jeopardy because you’d overlooked proper etiquette.

As the evening went on, candles guttered low in the chandeliers and guests began to thin out the dance floor. People started disappearing, traveling home in groups of two and three. Sometime around midnight, you finally bade Yoongi goodnight.

Forgoing his offer of escort, you took a side hall and exited the ball. It was a quiet walk to your chambers, a silence which did not lessen once you were inside.

Removing your crown, you set this on your dresser and stared out the window. You wondered if this was your future. A cold, lonely existence where you always ended up in your room alone.

Jungkook was right.

You kept everyone at a distance because you were afraid of being hurt. You were afraid if you let them in, you’d grant them the power to tear your heart in two. The problem was you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have a heart to give.

It already felt like a feeble, weakened thing within your chest. You didn’t know how to make it work like it should. So accustomed to your own company, you were unable to respond to true acts of friendship. This struck you as a poor kind of ruler for any nation. 

It made you wonder if the vow you’d once made held no further weight.

Now was time to decide what kind of ruler you wanted to be, what kind of person you wanted to be moving forward. Your life could still be wondrous if you so wished.

Abruptly, you turned and strode for the door.

Your guards seemed surprised to see you leave, but let you pass by with a nod. Once in the hallways, your feet seemed to know the way. Down one hall, then the next, you found yourself entering the guest wing before your mind could catch up.

Depending on stature, guests of the crown stayed with varying proximity to your personal quarters. It was not far to the rooms Jungkook occupied, the most lavish guest suite in the castle.

Outside his room, your steps slowed before coming to a stop. Jungkook did not have guards posted outside his doors. Some might have seen this as a sign of naiveté, but you saw it for what it was. A symbol of trust.

Lifting a hand, you knocked on his door.

It took him a few seconds to answer, rustling noises telling you he was within. When he swung open the door, your mouth immediately went dry.

Jungkook had changed from his formal attire to a more casual tunic and trousers. It took a great deal of effort to keep your eyes on his face, and not wander towards the ink you saw peering out from his sleeves.

Surprise flickered in the depths of his gaze, although he quickly concealed it. Leaning a shoulder to the frame, Jungkook arched a brow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Your Majesty?”

Any words you wished to say dried up like a stream in the desert. Finally, you managed to rouse yourself.

“May I come in?” you asked.

Jungkook paused. For a moment, you were afraid he might tell you to go. You had turned him down so many times; surely it was time for him to return the favor.

Then he dipped his head and stepped aside, allowing you entrance. Heart pounding, you slipped past him and stood at the center of the room.

His rooms were your guest chambers, so you had obviously seen them before. Occasionally you met with foreign dignitaries or visitors. Jungkook had stayed long enough though, that portions of the room had begun to seem like his own.

The black and gold robes he’d worn to the ball were draped over a partition. A trunk remained half-open beside a table, full of stacks of books. It reminded you of your visit to Duret Ghal so long ago, where he could often be found in the library.

“Would you like wine?” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts.

Mutely, you nodded and reached for the crystal decanter. Midway there, Jungkook’s hand caught your wrist.

“Allow me,” he said, moving past.

You stopped and watched him pour two glasses of wine. One after the other, Jungkook set them down on the table.

“You knew,” you said quietly. “You knew you were my mate.”

Jungkook hesitated, continuing to stare at the wine.

After a moment, he lifted a glass and took a long sip. “Yes,” he admitted. “I knew.”

“When?” you demanded.

His eyes narrowed, looking up. “When did you know, Your Majesty?”

“At the end of my last visit to Duret Ghal.”

“I knew the moment I saw you,” he said quietly.

“You – what?”

Jungkook set his wine down. “Your arrival was scheduled for shortly before sundown,” he said. “My parents had dressed me in my best clothes, and I remember being angry about it. I remember standing there fuming, waiting for you to arrive. And then you did.”

His eyes shone. “I had never seen someone so beautiful.”

Hearing him speak, your breath caught in your chest. Jungkook began to walk closer, his expression inscrutable.

“I avoided you for a few days,” he continued. “Mates are rarer in Duret Ghal and for a while, I didn’t know what I was feeling. Even once I realized, I resented the bond. It was difficult enough to accept my own magic back then.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You.” His lips curled in a smile. “You surprised me. I found myself liking you despite myself. I started to realize the bond might not be such a bad thing.”

“So… this entire time, you have known,” you said in disbelief.

“I have.” His expression darkened. “As have you, it would seem.”

Guilty, you looked away. You had and it had not occurred to you to tell him.

That was a lie. It had occurred to you and you’d decided against it, because you did not think you could stomach denying the bond to his face.

Reaching out, Jungkook took your hand. The gesture was so simple, it nearly broke you in two. Glancing down, you marveled when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Jungkook gave you space to think until you found the courage to speak.

“You know my mother was killed ten years ago,” you said quietly. “My father survived the attack, but they were mated and when she passed… he could not bear it.” After a pause, you looked up. “He died five years later, and those five years were as torturous for everyone else as they were for him.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Jungkook murmured.

“He tried,” you said, forcing yourself to remember.

To remember the days when your father had tried to go on. He’d tried for you and for Ashya, but it had not been enough. There had been no light in his gaze, no meaning behind his odd smiles. Although only your mother had died in the attack, you’d lost both your parents.

“I know he did,” you continued. “But the pain of losing his mate was too much. Everything which had been important simply faded away. I swore after he passed the same fate would not befall me. It is why I said no to you,” you said, your grip tightening. “It is not because I feel nothing. I said no to you because you are my mate.”

His thumb continued to soothe over your skin. “And now?” he asked, wondering. “Did you come here simply to say this?”

“No. Now I find myself wondering if in an attempt to spare myself pain, I created agony of a different kind.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened. “I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I don’t wish for you to agree out of some sense of duty, or an unearthly bond.”

A shiver went down your spine at hearing your name on his lips.

“That is not why I am saying yes,” you said, lifting your chin.

Surprise flared in his gaze. “No?”

“No.”

Deciding you needed the wine after all, you tugged your hand from his and turned towards the table. Lifting the glass to your lips, you let the sweet burn fill your throat.

In the corner of your eyes, you could see Jungkook watching. Waiting.

“I am saying yes because I want this,” you breathed, turning around. “I want you. I have wanted you since the day you followed me to the cliffs. I’m scared,” you admitted, barely more than a whisper. “I’m terrified of what you might do to me. Of what I might do to you. But I don’t want fear to hold me back anymore.”

Jungkook continued to stare at you, jaw working while he thought through what to say. His fingers began to tremble, fighting the rising tide of emotion.

“We face a difficult path,” he said at last.

You nodded. “I know.”

“The history between our people. Revealing the magic of the riders. War on the horizon,” he said, taking a step forward with each reason he listed.

“Do you not want me to say yes, Your Majesty?”

Jungkook came to a stop before you.

“I want you to say yes so badly it hurts,” he said hoarsely. “But I don’t want you to accept not knowing what it means.”

“The bond scared me for a long time,” you told him. “The idea of belonging to someone. Of no longer depending solely upon myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Loss of control.” Your smile was fleeting. “The idea has always terrified me more than any enemy. I feared the bond would mean losing myself… that it would mean…”

“Giving a part of yourself away.”

Quiet, you nodded.

“Did you not think, though,” he said, reaching out. “Giving a piece of yourself away might mean gaining something in return?”

Taking your hand in his, Jungkook laid them both on his heart.

You stared at your hand, splayed beneath his on his chest. The idea had not occurred to you, and yet – perhaps it should have.

“I have no doubt you will remain independent,” Jungkook insisted. “Accepting this bond would not change that. I would not want that to change.”

“But if I were to die –”

“Love is always a liability,” Jungkook quietly said. “It is. And yet, where would we be without it? My love for Nemrys, for Duret Ghal and the riders saved me when my parents died. A world without love is not one worth fighting for.”

Ever so gentle, you brushed the curve of his hand with your thumb.

Jungkook’s grip on yours tightened.

“Yes,” you breathed. Chest practically touching, you looked up to see him. “I know all this, and I’m saying yes.”

For the first time, you let yourself look at him fully.

You had known he was beautiful, but the truth was he was nearly unbearable. Strong jaw, soft lips and eyes which burned as fierce as any Dragon. You did not look at them though, wanting to take in the rest of him first. Lifting a hand, you cupped the side of his face.

Jungkook shivered at your touch. Startled, you glanced up and met his gaze. The need you found within nearly undid you.

For so long, this had been building inside. Suddenly the idea of you tolerating, let alone enjoying another man’s company seemed a strange concept. Jungkook was your mate, someone who had never once cowered from who and what you were.

Turning his head, Jungkook’s lips brushed your palm.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured.

“I am remembering earlier. Your kiss in the garden.”

His gaze darkened. “What do you want from me, my Queen?”

The addition of the word my sent a thrill down your spine.

“You,” you said, knowing how true it was.

You wanted every part of the man before you. Wanted to know him, breathe him in, drink from his cup and bask in his light. The man who’d known you were his mate and hadn’t claimed you, but rather waited. Waited you to come to him.

Rising on your tiptoes, your hands slid to his neck and you kissed him again.

You kept your pressure light, the opposite of the searing kiss you’d previously shared. Pulling away, you savored the press of his chest, the warmth of his body and the weight of his hands. When you opened your eyes, you found Jungkook smiling.

Pressing your lips to his again, you moved a bit closer. Jungkook seemed content just to kiss, trading gentle pressure – until you pulled back, teeth catching on his lower lip.

A growl loosened from his chest, low and primal.

Sliding a hand behind your neck, Jungkook tilted your head upward and waited for you to nod. When you did, he crushed your lips to his in a kiss equally fierce as it was possessive. Breath stolen, you gave him your desire and what was left of your heart.

Warmth flooded your veins, heating you from the inside out. With limbs of molten fire, you kissed him back until his tongue swiped at your lip, demanding entrance. You parted easily for him, a whimper leaving your throat as you melded together.

Jungkook groaned, pulling close to kiss you again. His fingers traced the skin at your nape, trailing your spine to firmly cup your ass. Nestled between his legs, Jungkook allowed you to feel every inch of his hardness.

Your skin was aflame, as though lightning had zipped across it. Reduced to only sensations, you shivered at each one you felt. His thumb, fondling the dip of your waist. Your nipples, turgid against the fabric of your gown. The sharp, aching pulse which steadily grew between your thighs.

“Oh,” you gasped, head tipping back.

Jungkook kissed each inch of exposed skin you gave him.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured.

“What I want, my King,” you panted, regaining some of yourself. “Is for you not to stop.”

Lips curved in a smile, he lifted his head. “I rather think your King is more appropriate, no?”

You arced a brow. “What is the difference?”

“One implies you are my subject and the other implies I belong to you.”

“And which do you prefer?”

His gaze glinted in firelight. “Allow me to show you, my Queen.”

Barely pausing, you breathed, “And which usage was that?”

With a soft sort of chuckle, Jungkook walked you both backwards until your spine hit the wall. Bending his head, he brushed his lips against yours until you were aching. Until your need for him became fire, racing through your veins in a silent demand.

Sliding his thigh between your legs, Jungkook paused when you gasped. Swiftly giving in, he covered your lips in a kiss which seared to your soul.

Slipping your hands higher, you marveled at the breadth of his torso. Years of riding had hardened his body, making you wonder what he looked like beneath the tunic.

One hand on the wall, Jungkook’s other fisted in your skirts as he tugged you closer. Sharply, you inhaled when he yanked up the fabric, exposing your knee to the gentle press of his thumb. A moan left your lips as your head hit the wall, eyes fluttering open.

Jungkook stopped. “Is it too much?” he asked, releasing your skirts.

“No.” You shook your head. “I want more. I want you”

His gaze darkened. “Then you shall have me,” he promised, covering your mouth with his.

His kiss was rough, lips bruising as your hands found his hair. Arching against him, you reveled in the hard panes of his body. It seemed wherever you had space, Jungkook had been made to fill it.

Hand in your skirts once again, Jungkook pulled them higher to press his thigh in between. You inhaled at the contact, his muscles rigid and hard in all the right places.

Before you could do anything else, Jungkook bent and grasped the back of your thighs. Wrapping you around his waist, he kept your body close as he walked towards the bed. Lowering you to the floor, his hands remained on your waist.

“Turn around,” Jungkook rasped, and you obeyed.

Facing the bed, you felt his fingers trace over the bodice of your gown.

“May I?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Please,” you whispered.

Carefully, Jungkook began undoing the laces and hooks. As the fabric was loosened, exposing your skin to his gaze, you closed your eyes. His fingers skimmed your shoulders, sliding the fabric lower until it hit the floor.

Bared to his gaze, you felt your breath hitch. Cool air played over your skin, perking your breasts, and drifting between your thighs. The gown was sheer enough to necessitate you wore no undergarments beneath it, leaving you naked before him.

“Y/N.” Jungkook sounded hoarse. “Please… please face me.”

Slowly, you did so as you opened your eyes.

Jungkook stared, his eyes dark as night. Jaw tense, his gaze slowly dragged down your body. You felt the intimacy of it as he trailed your throat, lingered at your breasts, your ass, and between your thighs.

When he finally returned to your face, the heat between you was scorching. Throat parched, your body felt one with the fire.

“Now, you,” you murmured.

Without looking away, Jungkook lifted a hand to begin undoing his tunic. Once it was loose, he pulled this overhead in a single motion. As it hit the floor, his hands went to his trousers. With bated breath, you watched him remove the laces.

Swallowing once, you stared at his chest bathed in soft firelight. Swirling dark lines stretched across his shoulder, encircling his bicep, and traveling to his wrist. You saw words and symbols but had no time to peruse. Later, you promised yourself. Later, you’d worship the ink with your lips and tongue.

A dark smattering of hair trailed from his abs, disappearing into trousers he undid with deft fingers. Once these had been pushed to the floor, you found another reason to swallow.

You were not what anyone would call shy, but something about this felt more intimate than it ever had. Baring yourself to Jungkook meant more than just sex. You’d accepted the bond, accepted what lay between you and acknowledged him as your mate.

Seeming to understand, Jungkook took a step closer as he bent his head. His hands slid to your waist and he kissed you gently.

When he pulled away, you saw vulnerability in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said.

You marveled at the sound of his name on your lips. “Jungkook,” you returned, and watched him smile.

Bending again, his lips found yours as his hands skimmed your body. You settled between his legs, feeling slightly light-headed from the press of so much skin. Jungkook’s hand slid lower, gripping one of your thighs to wrap around him. He gave the same treatment to the other, twisting you around to lay on the bed.

Pressing a knee to the mattress, Jungkook crawled forward and bent his head. Lips soft, he began to kiss down your body. Your hands gripped his back, trailing to find the twin dimples nestled at the base of his spine.

When Jungkook’s mouth brushed your breasts, he paused. Instead of giving in and devouring you whole, he slid a hand between your thighs and found how wet you were. Gaze lidded, he looked up as he cupped your sex. A single finger slid over your silken entrance.

Lifting the same finger to his lips, Jungkook leisurely tasted you. When he pulled his finger out, you saw it had been licked clean.

Growling in approval, Jungkook bent and closed his lips over your breast.

“Oh,” you gasped, arching beneath him.

Your nipple was already hard, peaked with desire. Jungkook sucked on it eagerly, pulling your breast taut before he raised his head. Moving on to the next, his thumb remained behind to skim over your nipple.

He continued with this sweet torture until you’d had enough.

“No more,” you gasped, curving a hand beneath his jaw.

Releasing your breast, he lifted his head. “I want to taste you,” Jungkook breathed. “I want to know what it’s like to have you fall apart on my tongue.”

Easing yourself onto your elbows, you slowly spread your legs.

“Do your worst, Your Majesty,” you said, gaze glinting.

Jungkook grinned, lowering himself to the sheets. His mouth was hot, open as he kissed your waist, your belly and lower. You did not know where to look – his entirely naked ass, or his dark head of hair before your dripping sex.

Dragging his nose up your thigh, Jungkook deeply inhaled as he centered himself. Lowering his head to your sex, he gave a tentative kiss. Even this sent a sweeping shudder through you. It took nearly everything you had not to moan like a maiden in heat.

Opening his mouth, his tongue swirled once and you nearly dissolved. Liquid heat pulsed through you, cumulating between your thighs in a sinful wave. Worshipping you with his tongue, Jungkook tore moans from your lips, one after the other.

Swiping his tongue in another slow circle, he coaxed your body to arc from the bed. With a throaty chuckle, Jungkook looked up. Hair mussed and lips wet, he looked like something divine.

“Do you want more, my Queen?” he asked lowly.

“Yes,” you exhaled, unable to look away.

A devious smile spread across his lips. Lowering his mouth, Jungkook resumed his ministrations until you were gasping his name.

“Oh,” you groaned, broken as he continued to eat you out.

Gripping your thighs, he pushed them further apart to better get at your sex. Legs splayed on the bed, you framed his broad shoulders as you reached for his hair. Another growl left him as you fisted your hand in the strands. Hips rising and falling with the motion of his mouth, your head fell limply back on the bed.

“Yes – yes,” you said, chasing the sweet pleasure with your hips.

You hardly knew what you were doing as you moved, never having felt this way before. Jungkook seemed equally entranced, his eyes snapping open to meet yours above. The bottom half of his face was wet with your juices and while you should have felt modest, instead you felt righteousness. Intoxication. Possession.

This was your body which made him look like this, half-feral with need as he ground into the mattress. “Yes,” you gasped, gripping harder as your legs started to shake. “Yes, Jungkook.”

Pleasure built from within, threatening to drown out everything but the man between your thighs. Slipping a finger to your entrance, Jungkook drew lazy circles over your sex. His tongue moved in quick, agile motions against your swollen clit.

“Come for me,” he panted, lifting his head.

Your lips parted when his finger slipped in. Gripping his hair, your hips bucked against him as he added another and curled. Crying out his name, you came hard and fast around his hand. You think you said Jungkook, amongst other things, as you went limp on the mattress, your hands falling to the sheets.

Jungkook slowly relented, gently kissing your hip, your chest and all the way up your throat. Smiling softly, he settled beside you to drape an arm over your waist. Chest rising and falling, you stared at him in wonder.

You’d often wondered what the mating bond felt like. If something would snap into place and all of a sudden, your mind would belong to someone else. Whatever you’d imagined, it had not been this. This felt as natural, as right as when you flew.

Tracing a circle on your inner thigh, Jungkook looked up. “Do you want more?”

His other hand parted your legs, cupping your heat to show you what he meant. Inhaling softly, you reached down and encircled his wrist with your hand. Jungkook went still.

“Yes,” you murmured. “But not like that.”

His eyes lightened. “How, then?”

“I want all of you. Inside me,” you said. “I take the potions monthly.”

The potions were a trio of liquids sold by most apothecaries throughout the continent. They did everything from preventing pregnancy to protecting against diseases and easing your monthly flow. Arching a brow, you glanced pointedly at the headboard.

Smiling softly, Jungkook retracted his hand. Pushing himself upwards, he shifted to seat himself against the same headboard.

You could not have imagined a more beautiful sight. With mussed hair, his skin dark with ink and flushed with arousal, Jungkook was artwork himself. Lifting yourself to your knees, you positioned yourself over his thighs and lowered your gaze.

His cock was impressive, although you had already known this. He would be the largest you’d ever taken, that was for certain.

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand gently around him. Gaze half-lidded, Jungkook stared as you dragged your hand upwards. A hiss left his lips, though he held himself back.

“Careful,” he warned, shifting his hips.

Brushing your thumb across his head, you spread already-leaking fluids down his hardened shaft. Lowering your body, your mouth slid over the reddening tip. With a flick of your tongue, you relished his soft moan of approval. Next, was a swirl, before you slid off with a pop and began to move your fist.

“This is not your first time,” Jungkook observed, breathing heavily.

“Neither is it yours, Your Majesty.”

Bending again, you took him all at once in your mouth. Gasping his chuckle, Jungkook’s hands skimmed your torso to land on your rear. For a while, the only sounds which filled the room were the sloppy sounds of you sucking.

“It is not,” he panted, fingers digging into your ass. “And yet, I cannot help but be envious of all who came before me. Of all who’ve known the sweet pleasure of your lips on their cock.”

Removing him from your mouth, you looked up.

“There is no need to be jealous,” you said, rising onto your knees. Not looking away, you swung a leg over his hips. “You are the one who has me now.”

Something proud, almost territorial entered his gaze.

Gripping you by the waist, Jungkook pulled you even closer. “Do I?” he murmured, lips brushing your throat. “My Queen. My betrothed. My mate,” he breathed, nipping the skin.

A not unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reaching beneath you, you gripped his cock to position at your dripping entrance. Still, you did not take him inside.

Realizing Jungkook awaited an answer, you nodded. He had you.

“Then tell me,” Jungkook demanded, looking into your eyes.

Lowering yourself, you felt his tip brush your entrance. “You have me,” you whispered. “My King. My betrothed. My mate.”

With each word, you took him in deeper. Jungkook sat upright, right hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. Clasped to his warm, damp skin, you sank down on his cock.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hot in your ear. Other hand gripping your ass, he lowered you even further. “You can take more of me, can you not?”

You could and you did, not wanting to wait any longer. Hands digging into his back, you kept your chests pressed together as you sank even further. No matter how much you took, there always seemed to be more to give. Jungkook’s cock stretched you open, making you work to fit all of him inside.

“Oh,” you whimpered, gripping him tighter.

Jungkook grunted and stroked the side of your neck with his thumb. “There you go. Take all of it. All of me,” he exhaled.

A now-familiar shiver swept your spine as you moved. The last inch pushed you past your limits, but finally you felt him bottom out. For a moment, you could not breathe from the feeling of fullness. Of rightness. Of completeness.

Him sheathed inside you felt indescribable, only improved when Jungkook shifted his hips and finally moved.

“Oh,” you gasped, eyes flying wide.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

Lifting yourself higher, your nipples brushed his chest as you eased yourself down. Jungkook’s hand remained on your spine, rolling your hips as he thrust from below. Kissing him slowly, you bit down on his lip and took him in deeper.

Jungkook began to move, spearing you with his cock as you spread your legs. His kisses became harder, more desperate as a steady thrum of power built in between you. Soon it was your hips chasing his, not the other way around.

Lowering his head, Jungkook caught your breast with his mouth. Lips parting, you began to fuck him harder as you slammed your hips down. His tongue teased one rounded breast, switching to the other while his thumb flicked the first.

Dropping onto his length over and over, you marveled at the feel of him moving inside you.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy.

His hands seemed to be everywhere. Clasping you to him, skimming your torso, flicking your pebbled nipples as the wave of pleasure built. Toes curling beneath you, you panted from the effort of trying not to come.

As though he could sense this, Jungkook began speeding up. Clasping you to him, he thrust into you harder, filling you with each languid roll of his hips. As your lips found each other, the strange tide of longing crested into a wave.

Winding your fingers into his hair, you tipped your head back and bared your neck to his teeth. Jungkook scraped them up your throat, whining his approval as you rode his cock. Hands gripping your ass hard enough to bruise, his hips moved even faster as he sought completion.

With his dampened skin pressed to yours, his scent began to envelop. Each moan he gave you was freely taken. Each sound you made, he swallowed whole. You were not sure how long you existed in this state, simply reveling in the pleasure from each other’s bodies.

On the edge of release, you felt the bond between you tighten. It was difficult to tell where one of you ended and the other began. Slamming your hips down to his, Jungkook was equally fierce, plunging inside you.

“I cannot hold on much longer,” he gasped.

You nodded, stroking his temple with a sweat-slicked thumb. “Together.”

Jungkook nodded, lips seeking yours in a question you answered. Hips quickening, limbs tightening, you let yourself fall into the release he offered. As you came undone, it was Jungkook you held onto. Somewhere within the bright haze of your pleasure, you felt Jungkook release as well. Thick, hot spurts of cum painted your insides white. 

You reveled in it, trembling at the idea of a future where he’d do this again. Where he’d whet you with his seed, stuffing you full in the hopes you might bear his child. The notion made you whimper, squeezing with your walls as you felt him begin to leak out. 

Although your breathing slowed, the haze of joy lingered. The mating bond became almost visible, shining crystal-clear in what had previously been darkness. It stayed with you; humming and golden, and fearfully strong.

Lifting your head, you met Jungkook’s gaze.

He had not become someone different. Neither had you and yet, something between you had changed. It was still Jungkook beneath you, inside you and with his arms wrapped around you. Now though, you knew what he was to you. Your mate. You had chosen him, and he had chosen you.

Based on his expression, you knew he felt something similar.

One of your hands slid down his chest and settled over his heart. Beneath your palm and warm skin, you felt his heart keeping pace with yours.

“Oh,” you murmured, eyes shining.

Leaning forward, Jungkook brushed your lips with his. Clasping your hand in between you, he rested his forehead to yours.

You knew obstacles lay ahead. You knew but somehow, they all seemed more possible with him by your side. With him as your partner, your mate, your betrothed.

Opening your eyes, you met his gaze and smiled.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone read this long! I hope you enjoyed :)

Character Ask Game found here

[cower-before-power]

Slippery When Wet: Part 2

Summary: An untimely accident in the shower leaves you injured and in need of rescue. Lucky for you, the object of your affections is more than willing to help.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

TW: swearing, nudity, implied sexual content, description of injury (nothing graphic), unintentional voyeurism? (idk i mean like voyeurism in the name of helping i’m not sure how to say it ha), lots of dick talk, prolly really bad sex jokes

Link to A03 here

PART 1 HERE

A/N: First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ, LIKED, REBLOGGED AND COMMENTED ON PART 1. You are all amazing, I am so glad you are enjoying this silly little venture Gojo has dragged me on. Again, thank you so much to @ghost-party for her beta skills, you da best! I hope Part 2 makes you all happy :) please enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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You shouldn’t look. Not because you don’t want to, but if you do you’ll know what is absolutely not warming your bed at night and then you’ll probably just feel worse. But, you were overwhelmingly curious. Just a quick look couldn’t hurt.

Right?

You peek through your fingers, just at his upper half. The sight makes you curse softly under your breath. Of course he’s absolutely beautiful out of clothes, did you really expect anything less?

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll get dressed,” he says, “just thought this would help you out.”

Help you out? Good grief this is going to be the star of your late night fantasies for months. Because instead of dreaming it up, you now have the real thing to recall.

“No,” you take a deep breath and drop your hands. “I’m fine.”

Are you though? He’s built to perfection, checking off all the boxes on your “Things I find physically attractive” checklist. You marvel at this long column of his throat, sweeping down into a set of collarbones that would make models die of envy. His chest is hairless (did he wax or was it just naturally that way?), miles of smooth skin and muscle that your fingers were just itching to trace.

Your eyes trail down past his stomach, briefly cataloging the very nice set of abs, before settling on what you were the most curious about.

The snort of laughter escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Excuse me, did you just look at my dick and laugh?” He asks accusingly, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle at the disgruntled expression on his face. “It’s just, I’ve always wondered if the carpet matched the drapes since I assumed you dye your hair. Guess I was wrong.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, Gojo Satoru visibly deflates.

“That’s what you’ve thought about?” His voice is full of frustrated disbelief. “My pubic hair?”

You can’t stop giggling. “You can’t blame a girl for being curious! Are you sure you shouldn’t get rid of it though? Doesn’t the white make people think they’re boning an old man?”

“The utter disrespect,” he gasps, shaking his head. “I can assure you that is the last thing on their minds when I’m working my magic.”

You wonder why you aren’t feeling more flustered. The fun and teasing atmosphere feels almost refreshing after the intense back and forth that was just occurring.

“What, you casting spells for dry weather?”

“Oh, you are evil!” He moans, then looks down at himself. “Don’t listen to her, big guy. You know what you can do.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t talk to it,” you roll your eyes, trying not to grin. “And don’t oversell the merchandise. It’s average, at best.”

(It isn’t. It’s probably the nicest looking one you’ve ever seen. But him and his astronomical ego do not need to know that)

Gojo grabs his chest as if you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch! Shots fired, target annihilated!”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you sigh. You wonder if he notices the quiet fondness in your voice.

He opens his mouth as if to retaliate, but then suddenly shuts it. A look comes over his face as if he’s just remembered something very interesting and important.

“Hey,” he says, and you watch his mouth spread into a smile. “You said you’d wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. That means you definitely imagined me naked at least once.”

And your blush is back.

“What of it?” You huff, cross your arms and looking away. “It’s only natural. I’ve thought of lots of people naked.”

“Do you ever imagine sleeping with me?”

The question causes you to choke on your breath.

“What-why would you ask that?”

“Inquiring minds want to know.”

You take a look at him, standing naked and unashamed in front of you. His smile is different; there’s a sultry edge to it you’ve never seen before.

“Maybe inquiring minds should stuff it,” you stick out your tongue. Immature, but he’s got you feeling all funny now.

“Well, I’ve thought about it,” he says. “I’ve thought about it quite a lot, actually.”

Your heart misses a beat in your chest.

“You have?” Your voice squeaks as you force the words out.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

You consider the question. You’ve got insecurities, but you know you are a decent looking person. And despite his flightiness about many things, Gojo has actually never given you the impression that he’s shallow in that way.

“I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “I guess I just never considered the possibility that you were interested in me in that way.”

He sighs. “Pumpkin, I’m not blind. You are stupidly attractive. Every time we’re out in Tokyo you’ve got a million guys and gals staring at you.”

“I just always assumed they were staring at your and your stupid blindfold,” you scrub at your cheeks with your palms, trying to rid yourself of some of the perplexing confusion you feel swirling inside you. “How come you’ve never made a move?”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

You want to shout at him, to say of course yes a thousand times yes, but you pause. You realize you’ve never given him any signals, any hint that he was more than just your often annoying friend. Sure, you blushed at his silly flirting, but so did lots of people.

You shift back through your interactions, all the missions, the late night hang outs, the strolls through the city. Nowhere can you find any instant where your ever expanding feelings might have risen to the surface. But still, would your seeming indifference deter him? He was a very self assured man, after all.

“You have confidence coming out your ass, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t make a move anyways, just to see,” you say instead.

His whole demeanor softens. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

Oh.

OH.

And you know exactly what he means. It’s why you’ve never said anything, why you forced your desires deep down into the pit of your being when in his presence.

It seems even the strongest shaman could be afraid of something.

“It’s not just about fucking, is it?” You ask, feeling your whole body start to tremble.

“It was never just about fucking,” he replies, and it’s like the universe explodes before your very eyes. “Why do you think I spend all my free time with you?”

“To annoy me?” You croak feebly. “To eat all my snacks? To enjoy torturing me by spoiling the end to every movie we watch?”

He chuckles. “Just side bonuses. Being with you is the real prize, pumpkin.”

“Oh,” you whisper, and your brain whirs like an overworked laptop. You’re having trouble processing that this is actually happening, that the man you’ve been pining after for what feels like forever is really standing there, confessing his own feelings.

Buck ass naked.

“You’ve got two options right now,” Gojo takes a step closer to you, and you shiver at the dominant aura that suddenly swirls around him. “Either I get dressed and we put today behind us, or I come over there and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name. Make your choice.”

Was there even a choice? There was only one option. A slow, warm feeling blooms in the middle of your chest and spreads outwards, dousing your whole shaking body in molten yearning. It’s not a new feeling, but the sensations are different. Because now you can give in to it.

“Kiss me,” you blurt out, breathless and giddy. “Get the fuck over here and kiss me.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

A flash of a savage grin, the soft thump of footsteps and then you are numb to everything but him.

He tastes like sugary coffee and chapstick, lips hard and hot against yours as he kisses you like he’ll die if he stops. He’s everywhere at once, in all your senses, drowning you in his onslaught of desirous fervour. It’s not a timid kiss of new sweethearts; it’s a passionate embrace of long overdue lovers.

Your hands run over every inch of him they can reach, mapping the ridges and valleys of his exposed skin. His own slip beneath your shirt to spread across your back, crushing you to him with a grip of iron. It’s not enough; you want them everywhere, you want him everywhere, until he’s branded onto your body. Until you no longer know where you end and he begins. Until he’s sunken himself into your very bones.

You need to breathe- you pull away with a gasp, one gossamer thread of saliva lazily trailing after you.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” You pant, digging your nails into his arms. He’s unwilling to keep his mouth off you, now pressing scalding kisses along your jaw.

“Blame it on mutual stupidity,” he sighs into your skin, teeth slightly grazing the spot just below your ear. “Let’s make up for lost time, eh?”

“I’m game,” you say, a soft whine leaving your lips as he works steadily on what is sure to become a bruise.

“Good,” he murmurs, swiping his tongue across the blossoming mark before leaning back to smirk at you. “Have to make you take back all your snarky comments about me and my game.”

You giggle. “Oh, so you’re saying it won’t be as dry as a desert ‘round here?”

“Well let me just check tonight’s weather report,” he laughs, grinning cheekily as he slips a hand down between your legs, brushing gently over the front of your underwear. You bite your lip, grip on his biceps tightening.

“Ladies and gentleman, we’re in for a wet night,” he says in what you assume is his best weatherman voice. “Expect a great deal of precipitation, more so than what’s already accumulated. Perhaps we’ll even see some flooding. We’re talking possibly record setting levels here.”

You snort with laughter, pushing at him slightly. “You are such an idiot. Just shut up and put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, I intend to put my mouth in a lot of different places,” he removes his hand, snapping the elastic band of your underwear against your hip as he goes. “I know I just got you into these, but shall I undress you now?”

“Yes please,” you nod eagerly, already wiggling out of your shirt. He quickly helps remove the offending garment, but in all the lust and excitement you’ve forgotten about your shoulder, and you moan in pain when you jostle it.

“Owwwwwwie, stupid shoulder!”

“Shhh, pumpkin,” Gojo coos gently, leaning down to pepper the area with kisses. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

You feel yourself melt at the sudden tender display, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his luscious hair as he continues to smother your bruised shoulder in affection. “You already are, Satoru.”

The first name slips out unexpectedly, but you like the way it rolls off your tongue. He seems to as well, judging by the pleased noise that rumbles from his chest.

“Well, allow me to continue then,” he purrs, and his lips leave your shoulder to capture yours in another toe curling kiss. You press yourself to him, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a thrill shooting down your spine.

An idea suddenly pops into your head.

“I never got to finish my shower,” you break your kiss to speak, looking up at him under your lashes.

He catches on immediately, his smile once again turning primal. It makes your knees weak and your gut clench in anticipation.

“Maybe you should help me, since I’m injured and all,” you push yourself even closer to him, shivering at the feeling of his not-so-average excitement pressing against your belly.

“Hmmmm, I could do that,” he’s already got his fingers hooked in your underwear, slowly starting to push them down your hips. “But what if you slip again?”

“Well, you’ll just have to catch me then,” you wink at him. “With your dick.”

He roars with laughter, and your heart has never been more full.

“Oh, I’ll do more than just catch you, pumpkin,” he growls playfully, and before you can blink he’s rid you of your bottoms and swept you up into his arms. “I’m going to absolutely wreck you.”

You reach up to kiss him as he pounds towards the bathroom, your blood on fire and only one thought in your head.

Bless that stupid, slippery, wonderful bar of soap.

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Taglist: @satorudicks @sara-nyaa @dixonsbugaboo @fandomtrash100 @oikusa-snow @okemis @kuxredere @mylittleteddybear @the-fandoms-georgie @inaflashimagine @crapimahuman @elenapri0502 @fragments-of-aria @bollywoodghoul @wrdro @kiasnotforever @disregardedbymybias @lavihs @euniartsu @satjsstuff @lycorizzz @fushigurosimp @levisbrat1 @bxstboy-tetsu @one-leaf-grimoire @glxar (sorry i just tagged everyone who asked and commented haha, bold means I couldn’t tag you sorry!)

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

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It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[startanewdream]

hi, Mah! well i don't really like the winter solstice as i don't deal with winter very well but i love birthdays!

so, to join the game I'll send to you a prompt you and let you send me another one - any couple you want <3

for you: 1. “We found you crying. What happened?” and 13. “You’re supossed to be mad at me! Why aren’t you yelling at me?” + jily lives <3 (if you want to do just one, that's fine)

Hi, Sweet! I like to think winters solstice just means my birthday has the longest night of the year. More stars!

Well, for you I went with what's probably my fave soft moment between Lily and Harry (with a little twist on quote #1). All love here. Hope you enjoy it! ❤

The thunder shakes the windows of his room. Harry peaks from under his blanket, watching the rain lashing the window. It’s just a summer storm, he tells himself, trembling. Uncle Moony explained to him why there are more storms in the summer, and it should be something very normal.

And yet he can’t help but recoil as lightning crosses the sky, illuminating all the room and creating shadows that Harry never saw before inside his room. Monsters and ghosts and claws and what if they catch him...

He puts the blanket all over his head, but it doesn’t help much. He can still hear the rain and the wind and his heart skips a beat over each thunder. He wishes he hadn’t told his parents they could store away his lion plushie (‘I am seven, Mum, I’m too big for plushies!), because he really wanted a company right now.

And not any company.

He raises hesitantly, careful to avoid looking in the direction of the window again, and he leaves his room quickly. The hall is deserted, but the lights are on, and that gives him a small comfort. By the time Harry reaches his parents’ room, he is already feeling silly for being afraid of a storm. Perhaps he should get back to his bed, be the brave boy his father tells him he is, and just laugh of the whole thing—

But another thunder breaks through, resonating all over the house, and Harry opens the door to his parents’ room without further thinking about it.

The room is dark, only illuminated by the lightning that crosses the sky every now and then, but here the sound of the thunder seems less strong, as if the sheer presence of his parents is enough to draw away its force. Harry breathes in easily now, walking on tiptoes until he reaches his mother’s side of the bed.

She is sleeping peacefully and he pauses again; he doesn’t want to bother her, not with his stupid fear… But another thunder shakes the window and he lets out a tiny whimper.

‘Mum?’ he whispers, but she doesn’t move. ‘Mum?’ he grabs her arm, shaking her carefully.

She awakes with a start, blinking fastly. ‘Harry? Is everything all right?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he assures her quickly, with a glance towards the bundle in bed that it’s his father, but he didn’t seem to be awake, for which Harry is grateful. He doesn’t want his father to even suspect his silly fears.

Lily sits on the bed, watching him with concern, raising her hand to take out the fringe out of his sweaty forehead and then drying the tears Harry hadn’t even noticed before.

‘You are crying… What happened, Harry?’, she asks in a whisper, and Harry hesitates. He is seven, after all, and he shouldn’t be afraid of anything, and yet…

Thunder makes the window tremble again and he shivers, moving closer to his mother.

‘Ah, Harry,’ his mother sighs, raising now to place her arms around him, holding him safe in her arms. ‘Everything is fine—’

‘I know, I—’, but he doesn’t finish his sentence, shame wrapping over him as powerful as her hug.

‘You just wanted a hot chocolate,’ she guesses for him, breaking apart just enough to take her robe and put it around her shoulders. ‘What do you think?’

He nods, grateful—anything so that he doesn’t get to be alone while the rain falls heavily.

They go together to the kitchen, and with his mother holding his hand, Harry thinks the rain seems to have weakened a little. He sits at the table while she prepares the chocolate, watching her. It almost looks like it’s an usual morning in the Potter house; it’s comforting.

‘Why don’t you use magic, Mum?’ he asks, as she breaks chocolate bars in small pieces with a knife.

‘I like to do things how I learned,’ she explains, turning to him with a warm smile. ‘It’s how my Mum made it for me.’

‘Grandma Evans made hot chocolate for you?’

‘Oh, yes.’ There is a nostalgic glint in his mom’s eyes now. ‘We used to talk until late at night over a hot chocolate cup, just the two of us. It was nice’. She pours the milk over a cup, offering him. Harry mixes the milk. ‘I miss her.’

Harry nods somberly. If he didn’t have his mother, he would miss her everyday too.

‘I’m here, Mama,’ he promises, slipping into the nickname for her he is trying to overcome (he is seven). ‘We can share hot chocolate and talk like you did with her.’

His mother smiles, warmer than the boiling milk.

‘I would love that very much’.

Harry beams.

When their chocolate is over, Harry glances in the direction of the stairs, wondering if he feels brave enough to face his room alone. Maybe if he could ask his mother to tuck him in for the night… but he is seven, he is too grown up for that…

‘I am not sleepy yet,’ his mother declares, watching him with that glint that always makes Harry feel as if she can read his mind. ‘Why don’t we stay a little in the living room?’

‘I can keep you company,’ Harry says, almost nonchalantly. The smile on his mother’s face just becomes brighter.

At the living room, his mother lights up the fireplace before sitting on the couch, and Harry sits next to her, his head on her shoulder before he admits defeat and lays his head over her lap.

His mother doesn’t say anything, though, just staring at the fire as her hand runs through his hair in a soothing movement.

‘Are you cold?’ she asks after a while.

‘No, I’m fine.’ She hums in answer, distracted. ‘Mum? Could you not tell Dad about… the storm?’

She gives him a knowing look, a soft smile on her lips.

‘There is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry.’

‘Dad always tells me to be brave… I don’t want to upset him.’

‘The only thing your dad will be upset about is that he didn’t join us for hot chocolate,’ she assures him. ‘He loves you so much, Harry. And you always make him proud.’

‘I don’t want to be a coward. I want to be brave like him. And you.’

‘You are brave like your own,’ she tells him, touching the point of his nose and making him smile.

‘Even when I am afraid?’

‘Especially then. It takes courage to admit you fear something. There are all kinds of courage, Harry.’

‘Like there are all kinds of heroes?’

‘Exactly.’ His mother sighs. ‘Sometimes the hero is strong, sometimes he is smart, sometimes he sings all his troubles away. You’ll find your own.’

Harry nods, even though he still thinks he wants to be brave like his parents. They faced an evil dark lord after all. He touches the scar on his forehead absently. ‘Could you tell me a story, Mum?’

She looks at him, her eyebrows raised.

‘One that I want, or your type of stories?’

Harry sighs dramatically.

‘Your stories always have a kiss!’

‘It’s what happens before the happily ever after!’ she remarks, though the grin on her face tells Harry she is not taking this very seriously. ‘Fine, I will try to tell you one that no one gets kissed.’

‘With heroes!’

‘Ok.’

‘And swords?’

‘You want sword fights and no true love’s kiss?’

‘Fine, it can have one kiss. Just one.’

Lily laughs, lowering her head to place a soft kiss over his forehead.

‘There, one kiss.’ Harry can’t help but giggle. ‘Now, close your eyes and imagine it. Once upon a time, there was a noble warrior —’

[fanfics4all]

Requests are open! Here's some Prompts!

Angst Prompts

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“How could you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“You’re never going to be the same after this.”

“I just think it’d be best if we never met.”

“I can’t believe you would even think to leave me like this.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“It didn’t have to be like this, but now you’ve ruined everything.”

“I hope you’re happy.”

“If you had have kept your mouth shut, then he’d still- he’d still be here!”

“What did you want once this was all through? Tell me!”

“Now I have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Thanks, it means a lot.”

“You could’ve- could’ve stayed. You could’ve helped me fix things.”

“I knew she’d never change, she was too stubborn, too similar to me.”

“This isn’t going to be fixed. You’ve ruined this for good now.”

“I hope I’m not put in the same part of hell as you.”

“When did you think you could hurt me again? Today? Tomorrow?”

“You’re back in my life and I want to die again.”

“You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

“I hope you got what you wanted.”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“When you die, I’ll be the first to dance on your grave.”

“Don’t underestimate me, I have more power than you can even comprehend.”

“If only you knew what you’d brought upon yourself.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“There is nothing worse than seeing you get what you want.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“You can cut me, bruise me and skin me alive, but you will not take her from me.”

“How is it that we always end up in this predicament?”

“I want to wipe that grin of your face with my sword, but my mother taught me to play nicely.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how pathetic you are? It’s incredible how low my standards are for you.”

“Ah, well if you want them back alive, I suggest you lay down your own life.”

“Don’t be ‘smart’. The battlefield is no place for Math Scholars.”

“You shouldn’t have come. You can’t be-”

“Stop talking or tomorrow won’t come.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“I shouldn’t care for your life, but I’m starting to and it’s becoming an inconvenience.”

“If you live to see her, please send my best regards and this box of her father’s ashes.”

“It would’ve been nice to get to know you better, but I’m afraid I don’t care.”

“I can’t help but think you’re a terrible person.”

“Seeing your face has unconventionally made me want to die. I wasn’t quite prepared for this feeling.”

“You could have loved me, I’m quite good at seducing, but you’re actually vile.”

“I hope I see you in a bodybag sometime.”

“Let’s pretend you didn’t cheat on me with my sister and be good people for a few minutes.”

“We should probably stop talking forever.”

“If I hated you anymore, I think I’d probably be crowned as satan’s right-hand man.”

“To say I ‘tolerate you’ is a vast overstatement.”

“You broke her heart and came back for more, you bastard.”

“This isn’t fifth grade, this is a courtroom, you whore.”

“I think you’d be the perfect match for my ex-husband. He loved to sleep with multiple people.”

“I’m not coming home, don’t look for me.”

“Time was always a measurement of this relationship and we finally ran out.”

“Please don’t look at me with such hatred.”

“I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Just get out. I- I don’t want you here, just leave.”

“You’re not the same person I married, don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“I wish you wouldn’t beg for forgiveness, it has the opposite effect of what you want.”

“Don’t hate me for this. You would’ve done the same.”

“This could’ve been the end and you were ready to let me go.”

“You should’ve left me, you could never deserve the person I’ve become.”

“Hate me all you want. I know I’m right.”

“Today you broke my arm, I hope tomorrow it’s not my heart.”

“Nothing can justify this, you’ve ruined him.”

“You live with so much guilt, I hope it drives you mad one of these days.”

“My life was ruined because of one mistake. You were that mistake.”

“You are everything I hate, don’t ever come back.”

“Evil doesn’t come close.”

“Your wrongdoings are becoming your pastimes.”

“I wish you had of just done it for the thrill of it, but now you’re in deep shit.”

“Next time, I won’t be here to salvage your wreckage. This is the last time.”

“You should have ruined me when you had the chance.”

“No one will keep your name alive. Once you’re gone, everything you once stood for disappears too.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about your life without me.”

“This is always how it ends.”

“Break my heart once more, I dare you.”

“Forget how you loved me once, I mean nothing now.”

“This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, this is real life and I can go on without you.”

“You don’t own me, I don’t belong to you.”

“I should’ve died. That would’ve made you happy.”

“Are we going to carry on like this or are you going to give him back to me.”

“She drowned and he lost his mind.”

“We shouldn’t. You’re married and I’m pregnant.”

“You’ve never been loved, I can tell.”

“Who told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?”

“You’re almost as far-gone as I am.”

“Maybe it’s best that we don’t go home.”

“Roaming the streets was never safe for her. What makes you think it’s different for you?”

“I think you’re going to ruin me. Am I right?”

“Do you remember our last feud? I wouldn’t want someone to lose their life again, would you?”

“Kiss me quick and leave them be.”

“I hate seeing you so sad. It’s just so dramatic how humans show emotions and being sad is such a boring one.”

“Will you ever forget my number? No? Ah, because you still love me.”

“After the funeral, let’s surrender.”

“What made you think I cared for you?”

“It’ll be fun explaining this to your sister. I hope she likes horror stories.”

“Don’t act as if we’re friends. I know how much you want to slit my throat.”

“Let’s not get angry. Let’s calmly and sensibly take this outside so I can ruin your face.”

“Please ruin yourself for me and I’ll watch in adoration as I fall apart as well.”

Fluff Prompts

“I missed being with you like this,”

“I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

“You’re my perfect match,”

“No one else can compare to your loveliness,”

“The way you smile like that always turns me on,”

“Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home,”

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,”

“I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.”

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

“Can I have a message?”

“Truth or Dare?” “Dare”

“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

“If you keep kissing my face like that I’ll have to retaliate.”

“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”

“Does this kiss tickle~? Haha. Why are you laughing so much?”

“You’re supposed to be washing my hair, but this feels more like a massage.”

“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.”

“When do you think help will come?” “Not for a while, I guess we’re stranded here alone for the time being.”

“Can you pretend to be my partner for my friend’s wedding? I told them I’d have a plus one.”

“I’m in love with you.” “Are you finally confessing to me? Because I feel the same way.”

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

"I want you back."

"You need to stop calling me that."

"You did not just boop me."

"You lost me in a crowd once!" "It's not my fault you're so short!"

"We should get a puppy."

“Hurry up! It has eight legs and therefore will crawl faster than normal!"

"Kiss me." "Not with that morning breath."

"So, will you marry me?"

"How'd you do that?" "Magic."

"It's my happy juice."

"You did not just mimic me."

"I'm on my period and I want chocolate. Now go."

"I left you for five minutes."

"Tell me why I deal with you again?"

"Kiss it better. Please.”

Smut Prompts

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.”

“You can add another finger. I’m ready,”

“I want to watch you take off your clothes.”

“You’re so turned on already? That was fast,”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“You want to do this right now? Even though we could get caught?”

“You’re nipples are so sensitive today,”

“Do you want to continue this in the shower?”

“You look so beautiful tied up to my bed,”

“I want you to be rough with me, please leave marks on my skin,”

“Say my name,” “Louder,”

“You say you want me, but your body seems to like it when I tease you,”

“Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,”

“No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,”

“Don’t stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot.”

“I love hearing you moan,”

“Blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that’s why you’re whimpering louder than usual.”

“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realize you weren’t alone.”

“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m not wearing any panties,”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”

“I don’t have the patience to remove your clothes right now,”

“Your pussy tastes so sweet,”

“I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Bite me,” “Where?”

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“What do you want for breakfast?” “Why are you asking me that at 10 o’clock at night-OH.”

“The game is, either of us is only allowed to touch the other with their mouth.”

“I love how your body loses control when you cum.”

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

“Spank me,”

“Show me how you like to be touched.”

“Harder, Deeper…”

“I want to fulfill that fantasy you’ve always wanted.”

[milliedazzledust]

Turning Pages (Kol Mikaelson imagine)

Request by @scallisonbaby : Could you write an imagine for Kol, she’s the daughter of one of his main enemies, she tried to keep it a secret but he finds out and klaus tries to kill her saying she’s probably spying on us but Kol proctects the reader.

Words: 2858 words

A/N: this doesn’t follow the chronology or history of the show. Kinda felt inspired, this is long

Y/N knew she was screwed the moment she saw him. The brown eyes, disheveled hair, handsome smile and smartass attitude, not to mention this british accent that could make her swoon. Yes, Kol Mikaleson really was her weakness.  She suspected he knew it and played with it anytime he could. She hadn’t known the Mikaelsons for long but had helped them countless times.

Several years ago, before the family came back to New Orleans, she had come to seek shelter. Her path had crossed Marcel’s. He had come to her rescue before some vampire could kill her one night and she confided a whole part of her story she wished she could forget to him. She had expected him to ask her to leave and never come back to his city, but instead, he had agreed to help and hide her.

Ever since, she had kept that secret and had sworn no one would ever find out. Before New Orleans, she had another life, another name. A one she despised more than anything with a man she no longer considered family. She’d learn of his implication with Klaus himself later on when the man she had succeeded to avoid for years came back, hellbent on revenge against the Mikaelsons.

« How exactly do you think this is gonna go when they’ll find out ? » Marcel asked her, handing her a bottle of beer.

She sighed. Sitting on the couch in his living room, her feet crossed on the table, she took the beverage and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

« I think Kol is gonna kill me » She answered.

« Kol isn’t the brother you should be worried about »

She gave him a side look and pursed her lips before taking a sip from her bottle.

« Family’s a real bitch sometimes, huh ? » She half heartedly joked.

« He’s not your family, not anymore. Not since you came to New Orleans »

She smiled at her friend.

« But your father has become powerful enough to kill an original over the past couple of weeks and you know he’s gonna try to destroy them »

Again, she sighed.

« What am I suppose to do ? »

« I know you don’t want to see him, but you might just be the only one who can stop him »

« Do you really think he’ll listen to me ? After all I’ve told you ? »

« Lucien is … well … complicated, but not beyond reason »

She chuckled.

« Complicated ? Is that your definition of psychotic maniac killer ? »

Marcel stood up then turned to the girl, offering her his hand.

« You owe it to yourself to at least try »

She rolled her eyes.

« Damn you and your moral Marcel » She muttered, taking his hand and getting up.

With a heavy heart, she let him take her to the compound. So far as she could remember, she always had felt scared of her father. When she was a child, often she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart would race at the simplest sound of his feet approaching. Countless times she cried herself to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t hear, otherwise he’d come to show her what it was to be strong and not weak, as he would put it.

Marcel took her to the French Quarter, knowing whatever Klaus was planning, it was certainly to lure Lucien into the compound. He wasn’t wrong. The moment they step foot inside the Mikaelson’s mansion, one of them was already flying across the room, landing with a loud noise on the staircase. The vampire she had once known as her father was standing in front of Niklaus as his brother got back on his feet.

« You should’ve ran while you still could » Klaus threatened him.

« And miss an opportunity to kill you ? » Lucien laughed.

Klaus grinned, taking a step back. He silently nodded at his sister Freya. She instantly started chanting ancient words, a grimoire in one hand, the other raised in defense against him. In a matter of seconds, Lucien was on the ground, screaming in pain.

All this time, Y/N stayed behind Marcel. It was her way to shield herself from him. No one except Kol acknowledged their presence. Instinctively, after a quick look at her, he put himself in front of her. For a moment she thought it was to allow his brothers to attack, but when she felt his hand clasped around hers, she knew he was trying to protect her from the fight to come.

Suddenly, almost as quick as it started, her father stopped screaming and laughed. She’d recognize that evil, wicked sound anywhere.

« Did you really think this would work ? » Lucien proudly stated, standing up.

Freya took a step back, glancing at Klaus. Whatever spell they had planned, it wasn’t working on him. They all looked tense when he casually crossed the magic border around him with ease.

« Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? » He grinned.

The Mikaelsons spun in a defensive stance. Elijah launched himself first and made Lucien fall, but the vampire was quick to get back on his feet. Klaus used his speed to attack but the other creature anticipated his move and threw him against a wall. Angry, he got back up, breaking a chair and stabbed him with it. Lucien took the weapon out of his chest and Elijah used this distraction to get behind him and try to strike. It was no use. The other vampire turned before he could do anything and grabbed his arm, breaking it in the process. Seeing his brother struggling, Kol glanced behind him at Y/N before rushing to help him.

« Don’t move » He warned her.

He squeezed her hand one last time and ran to Lucien, punching him and making him lose his grip on his brother. Y/N watched in horror her worst nightmare happening. Soon, Marcel joined the fight and the violent dance started against the vampires. Her breath suddenly got caught in her lungs when she saw her father twist Kol’s arm, making his knees hit the floor. When Elijah and Klaus tried to get closer, he pulled harder on his shoulder. Kol winced in pain and his brothers stopped dead in their tracks.

When Y/N saw her father’s fangs retracting and the black veins running on his face, she swore her heart stopped beating. Right then, out of pure fear for the man she loved, she deciding she could no longer stay back.

« Enough! » She yelled.

His mouth wide opened, close to Kol’s arm, he looked up at her and smirked. For a moment it all sounded quiet. Everyone was completely still and no one moved over the silence of the room. The invisible tension was almost palpable as she took a tentative step toward him.

« Let him go » She told him, her voice quivering.

Still wearing that god awful smile, he looked back at her, pleased by her intervention.

« Stay back, Y/N » Kol warned her before, worried she would try to come closer.

She stopped in her track. As she looked around the room, she could see the questioning stares around her and she knew this moment would change everything, but she couldn’t let him hurt this family.

« Please … stop » She whispered, her eyes watery.

« Why would I ? » He darkly chuckled.

« Because I’m asking you »

Her lips quivered as she forced herself to take a breath.

« Y/N, step back. He is dangerous » Elijah advised her.

Lucien let out a sinister chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

« They don’t know, do they ? »

She pursed her lips, silently answering his question. Once again he loudly laughed, finding the situation amusing.

« Marvelous ! »

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Klaus started to put the puzzle into pieces. She was screwed and she knew it.

« I’ll come back if you let them go » She offered, ignoring Kol gaze on her.

He bitterly smirked.

« You chose your side when you fled my home, Y/N. And for that you will die too »

He tightened his hold on the vampire beneath him when he started to fight back at his words.

« And your pathetic lover with it » He spitted.

« You left me no other choices ! »

« You were supposed to rule by my side! » He screamed. « You were suppose to defeat the Mikaelsons with me ! »

« Those were your plans, not mine » She cried.

Again, she saw his fangs retracting and she felt the fear growing in the pit of her stomach.

« I’ll teach you what happens when you betray your own father, Y/N ! »

This was it. They finally knew. She saw each Mikaelsons widened their eyes in surprise. Marcel took a defensive step toward her when she noticed Klaus starting to shift, angry. What hurt her the most was the way Kol stared back at her. His jaw tightened, his fist clenched, he looked betrayed and it broke her heart. Before any of them could process the news or react, she watched her father plugged his fangs into the arm of the man she loved, making him scream in agony.

« No! » She shouted, running to them in a vain effort to save him.

Before she could even reach Kol, she felt her body being pushed and her back violently smacking a wall. The force of the impact made her close her eyes just for a second but when she opened them back, she noticed her father had fled. Ignoring the physical pain she felt, she tried to stand up.

« I’ll kill you! » She heard Klaus yelled at her.

He reached her at an impressive speed, clasping his hands around her neck. With all the power he could, he strangled her, and the girl was no match against Klaus Mikaelson. Marcel was quick to come to her rescue and threw the vampire attacking her across the room.

All Y/N could focus on was Kol cries. The man was on the ground, Freya and Elijah by his side, fighting an invisible force trying to kill him, fighting a fate brought by her father. He screamed in agony as his brother tried to hold him still while their witch sister had already started to gather ingredients for a spell.

« We don’t have long » She told them.

« Why are you protecting her ?! » Klaus shouted to Marcel. « That wicked woman lied to us! »

« She had no choice, Klaus! »

« So you knew ! You knew she was a spy send to destroy my family and you said nothing! »

« She’s not with him ! »

« Do I care about terminology ?! He is her father ! »

Elijah watched Y/N as she tightly shut her eyes at his brother’s words.

« Enough, Niklaus! » He shouted at his brother. « This is not the place, nor the time »

Kol was still restless on the ground, the spasms making it harder for Elijah to hold him still. His skin had started to become sickly pale. Y/N stared at him, a few feet away. Never had she felt so guilty and ashamed. She could see his misery and knew the mere sight of it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

« Freya, do something ! » Klaus urged her when his brother stared to violently shake.

« I’m trying ! » She responded.

She quickly gathered everything she needed around her, working as fast as she could.

« I’m gonna need Lucien’s blood » She informed them.

The brothers shared a look. They knew wherever the man was, they wouldn’t reach him in time.

«  Would … would mine work ? » Y/N softly suggested.

« Yes »

« You’re not coming anywhere near him! » The hybrid shouted back.

« Niklaus, let the woman help! » Elijah answered him.

He nodded at her and she almost ran to Freya, offering her arm to her. She winced when the witch cut her skin but her eyes never left Kol. Freya finished her spell and mixed all her ingredients, adding Y/N’s blood then handed a cup to Elijah. He brought it to his brother’s mouth, forcing him to drink. The girl waited by his side, anxious. She hadn’t noticed the tears on her face, nor her hands trembling. She let out a breath of relief when she saw the man stopped shivering.

« Leave, now » Klaus firmly ordered.

« Are you serious ? She just saved your brother! » Marcel warned him.

« It’s … it’s alright, I’ll go »

She stood up, shaking with emotions, ready to collapse in tears, and walked to the door. She took a look back, needing to make sure he was alive.

« He’s gonna be alright » Elijah reassured her.

She nodded, glad he at least wasn’t showing any sign of anger toward her then glanced one last time at Niklaus.

« You and I share one thing in commun, we didn’t choose to have a crappy father. I thought you of all people would’ve understood that »

He pursed his lips, holding himself back from answering.

« I’ll leave New Orleans tomorrow » She told them. « I’ll try to draw him out of the city »

« You don’t need to go » Marcel told her.

« Just … tell him I’m sorry, okay ? » She asked, looking one last time at Kol.

Marcel sadly nodded at the girl before she disappeared. For a while, she just wandered around the streets, enjoying the eery atmosphere of New Orleans one last time before going home and packing.

Leaning over the balcony of her home later that night, she stared at the life still roaring so late in the city. A man on the street was playing the sax while some people danced to it. She could hear the noise from Rousseau’s, the laugh, the music, the chatter. Bourbon street and its live music and vibrant people felt so alive and inviting, a chaotic contrast to what she was feeling. Time seemed to slow as she tried to photograph this memory, a keepsake to give her strength in the rough times she knew would come against her father. She felt a sudden gush of air behind her and shivered, knowing what it was before he even spoke.

« Were you really expecting me to let you go that easily, love ? »

She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. All the noises around her disappeared. All she could hear was the loud silence and his heavy presence. She tensed when she felt him take a step closer, scared he might say something that would definitely hurt her.

« Kol… » She whispered.

« Why ? » He simply asked.

She pursed her lips, trying to come up with an answer that would be enough to make him understand.

« I was scared »

« Of what ?! »

« My father has done terrible things »

He grabbed her wrist, making her sharply turned to face him.

« Y/N, have you seen my family ? » He argued. « Did you think I would judge you ? Do you think so low of me ? »

« Are you alright ? » She suddenly asked, not acknowledging any of his questions, her eyes scanning his body for any sign of injury.

« What ? »

He seemed lost for a moment.

« Your wound » She explained. « Has it healed ? »

« That’s beside the point, Y/N »

« You almost died because of me »

« Because of him » He corrected her.

In a second he was in front of her and entangled his hand in her hair, his thumb softly stroking her cheek.

« Why, Y/N ? » He asked in a whisper, his eyes pouring into hers.

She felt small under his gaze, unarmed and vulnerable.

« I didn’t want to remember » She admitted. « I just wanted to forget him, forget he existed, forget the years of … »

She stopped herself and he knew why. He didn’t need her to say it to know Lucien had hurt her, badly.

« I didn’t think I’d see him again » She kept going, a lump forming in her throat. « I thought I was free, Kol »

She starred right back at him, a sob escaping her throat.

« I thought I was finally free » She told him, her shoulders shaking with every word.

He dragged her to him, squeezing her as she melt down in his arms. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. He felt her sank to her knees before she could touch the ground and tightened his hold of her. He waited patiently until she was calm enough to take a step back.

« There’s no way I’m letting you leave the city, Y/N »

« I have to make him go. Besides, your brother will have be beheaded if I don’t disappear »

« The hell with Niklaus, he can go fuck himself for all I care »

She rolled her eyes at him.

« I’m not letting you go » He vehemently stated, cupping her cheeks.

« He’ll come back for you. All of you » She muttered.

« Well good. We’ll be waiting for him »

« Kol … »

« Mark my words, Y/N ; I am NOT letting you go » He repeated.

He leaned into her and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then softly, her lips.

« I can’t let him get to you » She confessed.

« And I can’t let you go near him. This is a dead end, love, and you’re not winning this argument »

She chuckled.

« I really thought I’d lost you for a moment »

He smirked.

« Never. You’re stuck with me for an eternity »

[mimisempai]

The beat of your heart soothes me to sleep

Summary

5 times where Loki falls asleep in Mobius' presence and once where Loki helps Mobius to fall asleep.

Answer to an anon prompt request on tumblr

"Loki falling asleep with Mobius around"

As always when it goes on this trope, I got carried away.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32649739

2597 words - Rating G

1.

As Mobius emerged from the shelves of the archives, deserted at this hour of the evening, his gaze fell on the tables, and one table in particular.

The table that reminded him of the first days of his meeting with Loki, and the very first time he had realized how much Loki trusted him.

They were both still in the taming phase at this point in their relationship, each gauging the other's reactions.

They were doing intensive research. Mobius, immersed in the files, had not noticed that Loki had become silent while a few minutes earlier he was commenting on every sentence of what he was looking for. He yawned and at that moment noticed something unimaginable, Loki had fallen asleep.

Moreover, it was not a light nap. From the sound of his steady breathing, it was a deep sleep.

For someone as suspicious as Loki, the fact that he slept in this way in the presence of someone was a miracle in Mobius' eyes.

To sleep in front of someone you barely know. How much trust does that take?

At that moment Mobius knew that something had changed, at least for him.

He didn't know at the time what the future would hold, but before waking him up, Mobius told himself that he would do everything in his power to preserve the trust that Loki seemed to have in him.

Whatever it takes.

He recalled the memory fondly as he stroked the table with one hand in passing, right where Loki had fallen asleep that day.

As he looked up to continue on his way, he was surprised to see Loki waiting for him on the doorstep. He wondered, blushing slightly, if Loki had seen his gesture and if he too remembered.

Mobius didn't have to wonder for long, Loki leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and simply said in his ear, "I remember, too." Then Loki straightened up, took Mobius' hand and added, "Come on love, let's go home."

2.

"Okay, tell me what are the top 3 laws to avoid breaking?"

Loki sitting at his desk, let out a deep sigh before protesting, "Mobiuus, I can't take it anymore, you've been making me repeat the laws and workings of the TVA for two hours."

Mobius replied firmly, "Even if you think you don't need them, it's important that you know them, you're going to be responsible for training recruits in the field and while I have no doubt about your teaching skills, you'll be a role model and as such you-"

"Do not disrupt the flow of time," Loki began to enumerate in a sullen voice.

Mobius smiled fondly and nodded approvingly as Loki continued, "Avoid time travel and do not contact people in the past to save them from their future."

Loki yawned ostensibly to show his annoyance.

"Perfect!" replied Mobius who walked away from the desk as he spoke, "Now we will review some of the punishable crimes by the TVA, such as time theft, time misconduct, or time jumps that can destabilize the continuity of space-time. What can you tell me about that last one, Loki?"

Silence answered him.

"Loki, stop being a child and answer," said Mobius in a slightly irritated tone.

Still no reaction. Mobius turned around and couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of his eyes.

Loki had fallen asleep, his head on his arms crossed on the desk.

Mobius approached and looked with tenderness at the black locks that had slid down his lover's face, the little puffs of air that came out of his mouth and made the sheets of paper in front of him tremble, but above all the look of complete surrender.

Mobius shook his head and looked around before finding what he was looking for. He went to grab a blanket folded on the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. He unfolded it and laid it gently on Loki's shoulders. He leaned over, placed a kiss on Loki's head and whispered in his ear, "I'll come back later..."

Loki answered with a groan under Mobius' amused look.

3.

"According to Hesiod, Eris is the daughter of Nyx and gives birth alone, like her mother, to many children, all evil. She is the relentless Discord, both companion and sister of the murderer Ares, who at first rises timidly, but soon touches the sky with her forehead and treads the earth with her feet. The most famous story of Eris tells that she started the Trojan War by provoking the Judgment of Paris. The goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite had been invited, along with the rest of Olympus, to the forced nuptials of Peleus and Thetis, who would become the parents of Achilles, but Eris had been dismissed because of her tendencies to cause trouble.So she gives birth to the worst calamities and seems to announce the apocalypse."

Mobius paused in his reading as he felt Loki fidgeting, shaking his head in Mobius' lap. They were enjoying what was probably one of Mobius' favorite activities since they had been living together.Loki lying on the couch, his head in Mobius' lap while Mobius read aloud, one hand in Loki's hair or in Loki's hand on his chest.

Loki, surprised to learn that Greek and Roman mythologies had many similarities with Norse mythology, had asked Mobius to read him the story of the goddess Eris, Loki's Greek equivalent.

"Of course, there's nothing good about my Greek equivalent!" snapped Loki. "Whatever our origin, we can only do evil."

Mobius grabbed Loki's chin to turn his face upward and said in a scolding tone, "Loki, I thought you knew by now that this was not the case. That you didn't have to live up to this destiny. After all this time, you still don't believe it? You still don't believe me?"

Loki sighed and took hold of the hand that held his chin and intertwined his fingers with it, "Of course I believe you, it's just hearing that, brings back memories that taste bitter."

Mobius leaned over, pressed a kiss to Loki's mouth and resumed reading. "I think you'll like the next part... Eris is also the one Zeus sends to awaken the fighting spirit of the warlords so that they will throw themselves into battle.She is therefore also the goddess of emulation.  Eris is a portal that opens to individual energies. It generates the pioneers, to move the collective energies. She unconsciously forces us to take a direction, to take a path."

"Hm you're right," Loki interrupted him, "I really like that. "Go on."

Mobius chuckled and continued, "Eris forces action, reaction.  Eris causes chaos to prepare the necessary future mutation. Eris is a trigger, a revealer. She participates in the tragedy of life."

"Hmmm..."

"Loki?"

Mobius felt Loki's head get heavier on his lap and Loki's hand clutching his own slowly loosened its grip. He leaned forward a little to see that Loki had fallen asleep. This was no longer a rare occurrence, but it never ceased to amaze Mobius as to its deeper meaning. He pulled the plaid that was at the end of the couch over Loki's legs, taking care not to wake him up, then resumed his reading.

"Eris turns our lives upside down, plunging us into chaos. If she spreads mischief through all, she also throws the trouble in oneself. It is to open a new way. A new life where we will never be the same again."

These last sentences made Mobius smile, because this is exactly what Loki had done in his life. He had opened a new life for Mobius that had changed him forever, for the better.

He closed the book carefully and put it on the armrest. Carding his fingers gently in Loki's hair, who purred in response, he let himself be lulled by the sweetness of the moment and fell asleep in turn.

4.

"I am exhausted, ex-haus-ted!" exclaimed Loki as he entered their apartment.

Mobius, busy preparing the meal, watched him enter the kitchen, smiling at his lover's antics as Loki continued to talk while undressing.

8 hours training new recruits in combat techniques combined with magic!  8 hours! Mobius you are the boss, you could do something!"

He had arrived in front of Mobius, planted a kiss on his lips before continuing to unbutton his shirt without giving him a chance to respond. "I'm going to shower and come eat, love."

Mobius followed him with his eyes and shook his head before returning to the dinner preparation.

Later, sitting at the table, they ate dinner and talked about their day. Loki was much calmer and more relaxed after showering.

Although the training had indeed exhausted him, Loki was nonetheless enthusiastic about his students' progress. But towards the end of the meal, as Mobius told an anecdote about one of his day's events, he saw that he was losing Loki's attention. His head was nodding as he visibly struggled against sleep.

"Loki, sweetheart, let me put the dishes away and you go to bed, I can see you're really exhausted," Mobius said in a gentle tone.

Loki didn't protest, got up and gave Mobius a gentle hug before saying, "Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve someone as caring as you."

To which Mobius replied, "Nothing, you're just you and I'm just me."

Loki smiled and gave him one last kiss before walking off to their room like a robot.

Mobius went to put the dishes away, turned off the lights and headed for their room. When he entered he was surprised to see Loki sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Loki?"

Receiving no answer, he walked over to find that Loki had fallen asleep like that. He must have really been exhausted.

"Loki, sweetheart, you should go to bed."

Loki groaned in response. Mobius laughed silently. He opened the sheets, gently helped Loki to lie down, carefully removed his sweatpants and T-shirt, Loki malleable as a disarticulated doll in his arms. The degree of trust and acceptance that Loki had in his arms was something new for Mobius every time. Something absolutely extraordinary.

Mobius laid down beside him, covered them both before taking Loki in his arms and after a tender kiss on his forehead, let himself be carried away by sleep.

5.

Loki knocked gently on Mobius' office door before poking his head through the doorway.

"Ready to go home?"

Mobius looked up from his work sheepishly and replied, "Loki, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to leave right away, I have some urgent reports due tomorrow, so I'll be staying late. It's not even worth waiting for me."

Loki didn't hold it against him, he walked over to him, took his face in his hands, kissed him gently before pretending to wipe the creases on Mobius' forehead with his fingers. "Don't worry like that, love, take as much time as you need. I'll leave you a piece of dinner in the fridge for when you get home."

"Thank you for being so understanding."

"You're welcome." replied Loki as he walked away.

Mobius followed him with a grateful smile on his lips before getting back to work.

Three hours later he walked through the door of their apartment, the living room was in darkness except for a small lamp lit near the armchair where Loki was sitting.

He gasped as he approached, Loki was sleeping, that was something he was used to, but what surprised him was that Loki was wearing one of his shirts. Mobius swallowed when he saw that he wasn't wearing any pants, just the shirt and his underwear, bare feet curled under him on the chair. He looked so vulnerable like that, that Mobius' throat tightened. Mobius crouched down in front of the chair and lightly placed his hand on Loki's bare knee so as not to startle him as he called softly, "Loki... Sweetheart... our bed is much more comfortable to sleep in."

Loki's eyes flickered before slowly opening, a smile lighting up his face when he saw Mobius.

"Mobius, you're finally home."

Mobius nodded, stood up and held out his hand to Loki, "Come on, the bed is more comfortable."

He accompanied him to their room, watched him go to bed before going to get ready for the night, also feeling exhausted.

A few moments later, he joined Loki in their bed. He lay on his back and Loki came closer, resting his head on his chest and wrapping his arm around his stomach.

"Loki..." Mobius had a question burning in his mind.

"Hm..."

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Loki cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, "I tried to fall asleep in our bed, but without you I couldn't, so I thought if I wore something of yours, maybe I could, but no, the bed is too big without you, so instead I waited for you in the living room, and finally fell asleep in the chair."

Mobius tightened his arm around Loki's shoulders and said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "you can go to sleep now, I'm here, sweetheart."

Loki snuggled up to him in approval and it wasn't long before Mobius felt the weighted head and steady breath against him, which in turn lulled Mobius into a deep sleep.

+1.

Mobius sat at the kitchen counter, clutching a cup of tea. He couldn't stop shivering.

It was the middle of the night,  it was half past two in the morning. He had been awakened by a nightmare and could not get back to sleep. He didn't want to wake Loki, so he came to the kitchen to try to calm down with a cup of tea.

The nightmares of Mobius were often the same, reminiscences of the lives that he had erased in the name of the previous TVA. It was often the conversation with Sylvie that came back to haunt him.

"All that time, I really believed we were the good guys."

"Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls, classic hero stuff."

Of course Mobius had never thought of himself as a hero, but he thought he was doing good and now realized how blind he had been.

And it was hard because there was no way to make amends, no way to redeem himself, because most of the people he had taken had ended up in the void and had not survived Alioth. At night Mobius could not think beyond the throbbing pain of guilt.

Suddenly, hands rested gently on his shoulders.

"Mobius? Are you okay?"

Then without waiting for an answer the hands slid forward and Mobius found himself with Loki's chest pressed against his back and Loki's chin resting on his head.

"I had another nightmare," he whispered, hoarse and vulnerable. Loki hummed, moved back and gently rubbed the back of Mobius' neck..

"Come back to bed with me," Loki's voice was warm and sleepy. Loving. Soothing. He took the cup from Mobius, discarding the now cold tea and rinsing the cup, before taking Mobius' hands and dragging him towards their room. Loki made him lie down before tightening his arms and legs around Mobius who in turn tightened his arms around Loki.

"Thank you," he whispered into Loki's soft hair.

Loki simply tightened his arms around him, and said softly, "Sleep my love, I am here, this time I am the one protecting you."

Mobius fell asleep, a dreamless sleep, only aware of Loki's presence shielding him from the world and from himself.

Beloved.

________

Whole series of one shot here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[sepedarodatiga]

The Snow Queen fairytale as a motif used in GoT/ASOIAF

First of all, how many fairytales and myths can GRRM fit into this story, seriously?? I know many have written well thought and well informed meta of various fairytale motives fit with ASOIAF/GoT, and I am just here adding into an already huge pile, but it bothers me, okay. I have to get it out there into the tumblr void. And this is not really a well thought and well informed meta (I’m not a folklore/literature expert, not to mention European folklore/literature), I’m just pointing my fingers into the patterns I saw fit. Also, I can’t count myself as ASOIAF book reader, I just watch the show. What I know about the books, I read it here in tumblr. 

But anyway, you might be surprised as to which character I saw fit as The Snow Queen in GoT

It’s Daenerys Targaryen.

I know I know... whaat? The Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire as The Snow Queen? Get out of here, right...

But it’s a pun. It’s not The Snow Queen, it’s Jon Snow’s Queen, get it? Remember how Jon repeatedly saying “you’re my queen” to Dany during season 8? Yeah. Oh and Jon is Kay, while Sansa is Gerda. 

What made me realize that Dany is The Snow Queen is when I was reading my son the fairytale. In the version retold by Kate Friend, it describes The Snow Queen as beautiful and terrible. And I was like, huh, just like Dany, especially with the white hair and the all white costume in season 8. 

Daenerys Targaryen, beautiful and terrible.

And then of course the story went on describing how Kay becomes her prisoner and then I was like, well that’s like Jon Snow during season 8 too.... And then in Disney’s adaptation Frozen, Elsa has white hair with purple eyeshadow, while Anna (Gerda) has....red hair....which is like... Sansa Stark. Then I also remember the illustration on my son’s book which is by John Patience, that reminded me of the Iron Throne.

The Snow Queen illustration by John Patience. See how much alike this setting is with the Red Keep? Especially in Dany’s vision in HoTU when snow was falling.

So I went investigating, and shit... I mean obviously the sequencing was moved around, GRRM likes to subvert things, but my God!

Before we get into Jon Snow and his queen, I have to start with the other characters first. And I will be taking excerpt of the story from The Hans Christian Andersen Center website which I assume would be the most original one.

Gerda = Sansa Stark

Here is a description of Gerda’s power:  “No power that I could give could be as great as that which she already has. Don't you see how men and beasts are compelled to serve her, and how far she has come in the wide world since she started out in her naked feet? We mustn't tell her about this power. Strength lies in her heart, because she is such a sweet, innocent child.”

Furthermore, her connection with Kay are through roses (they have a window box full of roses) and a song that goes like this:  "Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale, There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail." Another variation of the song is: “The rose in the valley has flowers so sweet, and angels come down there the children to greet.” She saved Kay with her prayers, hugs, kisses, tears and her song and their reunion literally ended winter and brings spring. If that’s not Sansa Stark (and the jonsa reunion), then I don’t know what is.

Gerda made a journey to the North to find Kay and bring him back together with her to their home. Sansa did not meant to make a journey North to find Jon and bring him back home, but this is what happened anyway. The story even stressed on the fact that when they came back to their homes, they were no longer children but grown ups. On her quest Gerda offered her red shoes to the river to get information about Kay’s whereabouts but the red shoes were given back to her the first time. But she did it once again and the river set her on the path to find Kay. I’m not really sure but for Sansa it could be her betrothal to Joffrey that was then canceled but then she got married to Tyrion Lannister. Her red shoes is her name and her claim to the North.

Gerda then met an old woman who wanted to keep her and made her forget about Kay by keeping all the roses underground. The old woman’s place was beautiful. Here is an excerpt:  “Then Gerda was led into the flower garden. How fragrant and lovely it was! Every known flower of every season was there in full bloom. No picture book was ever so pretty and gay. Gerda jumped for joy, and played in the garden until the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was tucked into a beautiful bed, under a red silk coverlet quilted with blue violets. There she slept, and there she dreamed as gloriously as any queen on her wedding day.” But then she saw a rose on the old woman’s hat and finally remembers her purpose of finding Kay. I would say that the old woman is Cersei Lannister who tried to make Sansa forget about her home and her innocence. Sansa was also saved from her clutch by roses (The Tyrells).

Then Gerda with information from a crow, met a Princess and Prince. She thought that the Prince might be Kay, but it turns out he was not. This might be Sansa’s vale arc and the Prince is either Petyr Baelish or Harry Hardyng. The Prince and Princess also gave provisions for Gerda’s journey to the North, so this may be that the KoTV helps Sansa getting Winterfell back. The crow, has a ladylove, another crow and they finally get married and live in the Princess’s castle though unfortunately the crow then died. The crow was a wild forest crow while his ladylove is a tame crow. These two crows could be genderbent into Sam Tarly and Gilly. Remember that Sam is mock as Jon’s ladylove by Alliser Thorne?

Next Gerda met a robber girl who sleeps with a knife and have plenty of pigeons. Yep, of course that is very much like Arya Stark (who sometimes is being referred to as “a girl”)

The pigeons told Gerda about Kay and The Snow Queen. The robber girl finally gave Gerda her reindeer called Bae for her journey to the North. The girl likes to tickle the reindeer’s neck with her knife. At the end of the story it is told that the robber girl then decided to leave her place and find adventure in the world. Very much like Arya’s ending.

Now about that reindeer Bae who helped Gerda to reach to Kay in The Snow Queen’s palace in the far North. In ASOIAF/GoT, we can connect Bae to Baelish. Make sense. Petyr Baelish helps Sansa get to North and Arya’s knife did end up in his neck. But also we can connect it to two foreshadowing of Sansa bearing Jon’s child. The first is more well-known: Bael the Bard. The second one I think is more hidden and I made a post about it quite long ago: Baelor. Is this far fetched? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

Kay = Jon (+ The Night King)

Kay and Gerda are neighbours and they share a garden (particularly a flower box full of roses). Their relationship, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen himself are: “These children were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they had been.” So they are NOT brother and sister but love each other as such. While Jon and Sansa are also NOT brother and sister but was raised as such.

Then Kay got splinters of magic mirror stuck to his eyes and his heart. The mirror “made everything great and good that was reflected in it appear small and ugly, but which magnified all evil things until each blemish loomed large”. It made Kay hated all the roses, they look ugly now to his eyes and also made Kay loved the snow and the cold. Jon Snow at the beginning of the story was a cynical little boy because he was raised as a bastard. He wanted to leave Winterfell and sneered at the idea of having a family of his own because he felt that he can’t have them. So he went to the coldest place there is.

In the story, Kay plays with his sled, and then The Snow Queen came with her sled and Kay hooked his sled to hers. The Snow Queen first, covers Kay in a bearskin rug and gave Kay kisses. The first kiss “was colder than ice. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which was already an icy lump. He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. Then he felt quite comfortable, and no longer noticed the cold”. The second kiss makes Kay forgets about Gerda and their homes. The third kiss, The Snow Queen does not give him because it would be the kiss of death.

I argue that GRRM subvert this story. I think Jon Snow was already saved by Sansa before he met Dany. The splinters in his eyes and heart was already gone when he faced The Snow Queen. The reunion happened before he met Dany. The first two kisses also already happened: Jon Snow had died and came alive again, and he also forced to forget about his home and family while he was at the Night’s Watch. The bearskin rug which The Snow Queen used to cover Kay can allude to Jeor Mormont and/or Longclaw. 

Then Jon Snow met his queen finally, but instead of a hooking sleds.... it’s dragons. Jon Snow’s sled was his dragon Rhaegal which are hooked to Dany’s sled Drogon. But his eyes wasn’t blinded by the splinter and his heart were already warm. He knowingly and willingly follow the dragon to save his family.

And the third kiss of death that wasn’t given by The Snow Queen? Jon Snow will give it to his queen instead.

Now let’s go back a little bit. Kay was also given a puzzle from ice by The Snow Queen, and if he can solve it then he is free. He was supposed to spell the word “eternity” but he couldn’t figure it out with the shard in his eyes and heart. In GoT we know exactly who has got an shard in his heart.

The Night King. And so that is why he plays with puzzle in ice. He is struggling to form the one symbol that would set him free.

Bonuses

Other than those patterns, there are several interesting tidbits from the story that fits with ASOIAF. There is this one blog said that The Snow Queen story was inspired by another story called “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” which if you read it, it is essentially “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” (the bear is a white bear, by the way)

More bonuses here. When Gerda finally remembers to find Kay during her time in the old woman’s home because of the rose, different flowers gave her different stories even though none tells her about Kay.

This is the story from tiger lily:

"Do you hear the drum? Boom, boom! It was only two notes, always boom, boom! Hear the women wail. Hear the priests chant. The Hindoo woman in her long red robe stands on the funeral pyre. The flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is thinking of that living man in the crowd around them. She is thinking of him whose eyes are burning hotter than the flames-of him whose fiery glances have pierced her heart more deeply than these flames that soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pyre?"

So GRRM didn’t take the sati ritual for Dany’s rites of passage as mother of dragons from just anywhere, but it is from this story.

Also, hear this story from hyacinth

"There were three sisters, quite transparent and very fair. One wore a red dress, the second wore a blue one, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand they danced in the clear moonlight, beside a calm lake. They were not elfin folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three coffins, in which lie the three sisters, glide out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hover about them like little flickering lights. Are the dancing sisters sleeping or are they dead? The fragrance of the flowers says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls for their funeral."

Of course this immediately bring to memory the quote of Jon Snow with Val: “The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” Well then, according to Hans Christian Andersen, that means death. There are three sisters here which could allude to the three queens at the almost end of GoT: Cersei Lannister (red), Sansa Stark (blue) and Daenerys Targaryen (white).

So those are my stab at it. I would be interested to hear if anyone’s take on it.

[athys-obelia]

summary: no one's evil au lmfaooo but make it pt. 2

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

and here's part 1 <3

oh my god okay. okay. so.

ana, claude, athy and jennette - they go on a LOT of vacations

claude complains every single time but anastacius pulls his trump card and sends athy and jettie BOTH after him

u think he's strong enough to say no after that? lmao jokes

and their vacations always go this way:

jennette: isn't this scenery just gorgeous, uncle

claude: indeed it is. and...quiet

jennette: ...too quiet

[cut to anastacius in the distance, fighting a bear as athy cheers him on]

athy + anastacius, hands down the most chaotic pairing yes i will not be taking criticism

they have tea in ana's palace everyday, just the two of them, they're so poised and picture perfect through the entire thing everyone thinks it's just the emperor giving profound advice to his heir

it's actually them deadass scheming,,, ana has no qualms discussing everything from court gossip to military tactics, both of which she's so on top of all the time

if anyone shit talks jennette or claude, this tea party is where their slow and agonizing demise is planned out to the dot

[true story - count sivan once made the fatal mistake of expressing his favour for athy as the next empress, dissing jennette by comparing her to athy sm which inevitably sparked a debate that ranked the princesses. a week after athy's sources informed her of the kindling behind this new debate, the count's sudden divorce became the talk of the town, and the man's business faced bankruptcy all of a sudden. the sivans still haven't recovered.)

athy n jennette were actually allowed to visit kiel in arlanta a few times, except it was too dark at their first arrival, postponing the meeting to the next morning

buttt then jettie can't sleep and she decides on a midnight snack run (their hotel doesn't really have the maids the palace does, but oh well. she's left the palace w lucas n athy plenty of times)

felix tags along btw, he knows this trip is important to the girls since they're leaving the palace without their Overprotective Papas™ for the first time and want some sense of independence, but... she's just so smol n he couldn't bear it if anything happens so he just shadows her

she totally knows he's there

n e ways so there's a juice place right beside their hotel which she aims for, but when jennette reaches it, it's closed

and out of nowhere, a voice addresses her - "hey you, do you come here a lot?" she nearly jumps out of her skin at the brunette, relaxing when she sees he's literally a kid around her age and not a murderer lmfaoo "me neither," he continues without waiting for her, pouting at the closed sign, before he asks for her name and whether she's new in arlanta

she confirms that yes, she's only visiting, and refuses to tell the stranger her name, still feeling strange at being addressed as 'you' for the first time (well, minus lucas, but he was like her brother and had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, so)

he eyes her. "you're so weird. i've never seen a girl out so late before, and alone too. are you stupid?"

(felix has his sword out at this point)

she's flushing now and has no idea why she's still out here, but then this stranger kid apparently senses her mood and tells her the best ice cream store in arlanta is not too far away

(he also explains he knows someone who's starts doing weird things when she's hungry as well, and tries to defend that ice cream is actually a healthy midnight snack, "you can just take a healthy flavour like strawberry or mango, mangos are healthy,,right"💀️💀)

so jettie has travelled all the way from obelia, she loves her papa but he would have a heart attack if he found out she was ever awake this late?? yeah bc she's never getting this chance again, jennette accepts the offer

the stranger boy seems to be taking the whole "i'm not telling you my name," thing like a joke, and asks what he should call her since 'you' was getting boring

she goes with "lady j" and like a knight, the boy becomes "sir c"

(felix is on the verge of committing a crime - the princesses can only have one knight, after all)

they walk as the the boy navigates the streets in the dark, and she asks whether he's from the academy, seeing his uniform

"of course i am! you could probably tell bc i look so smart, right?"

she snorts. "yeah, that."

she also comes to know that this guy,,,well he might as well be a tourist? she's out here asking stuff like "oh where's the statue of lady alphia?" or "aren't we really close to the museum where they keep the first emperor's sword?" and he goes "lady do i look like your brochure?? but if you turn right from here there's a cool arcade and across the street from there is the best street food vendor you'll ever eat from."

well at least mans had his priorities straight 😌

"so can you take this off?" he asks, pointing towards her dress once they've neared the store

um???????? sir tf????????????

anyways jettie has been living with lucas n her dad farr too long to not take this the wrong way?? "...no?"

the boy raises an eyebrow "look, it looks like an expensive cloak but i promise i'll return it, alright? i gotta hide my uniform."

ohhhhhhh. 😳.

so she unfastens the cloak and because he's kinda just staring at it cluelessly (he can't even tie his shoelaces fight me), jennette sighs and moves the clothing over his shoulder, fastening it in place at his neck

he's literally a tomato when she looks back up and realises that yes, we are way too close rn

bc she's ana's daughter, jennette by default cannot function when she's flustered. so she kinda stumbles backwards like a fish out of water (years of princess training n etiquette? where art thou??) and 'sir c' has to grab her forearm so she doesn't bump into the pillar behind her smfh

the shopkeep is definitely suspicious of this pair that's definitely too young to be out so late, but chalks it down to his sleeplessness

they escape the store with the ice cream before the shopkeep can ask any questions, and 'sir c' escorts jennette back to her hotel. he climbs onto the roof of the building, helping her up as well

(felix wishes he had a magic stone to capture this moment, this is the first time he's seen jennette become such fast friends with someone)

she stands on the roof (it hurts her butt so she doesn't wanna sit)

"my sister would be so jealous right now," jennette murmurs, "she told me her ideal first date would be either a picnic or something like a moonlit walk. we're having like a moonlit picnic."

it's silent for a few seconds the boy speaks up, "is this a date?"

oh-

oh.

"i mean- i didn't- i don't- uh."

give her some time lmfao she's loading

"i don't really mind that," he tells her, and she thinks she might just walk off the roof in her embarrassment - who just says something like that?? "you're probably feeling really lucky right now, right?"

jennette: ✊😔

he does look pretty in the moonlight, she admits to herself, listening as he excitedly tells her about his siblings at home and how she should send an offering to the gods since they gave her the good fortune to be on a date with the most good looking one of all four of them

in turn, she tells him about how she spent her childhood away from her amazing dad and had gotten closer to him recently, about her sharp-witted uncle, her sister and friends

(the 'friends' section includes felix and he's melting)

she smiles - it's almost as if, at finding out he treasures his family just as much as she does, they've gotten a bit closer

and he tries to listen. jennette had guessed that his temperament was somewhat like her dad's - her dad didn't know how to listen, always making his opinion known before anything else, though she supposes as emperor he could do that

'sir c', on the other hand, tried his best, his blue eyes focused on her as he almost burst from the unsaid words he was holding back, trying to let her finish. the sight was an odd mix of sad and insanely adorable that she couldn't help but let him tell her about everything he couldn't hold in

sensing she could pass out from her exhaustion nearly half an hour later, and 'sir c' escorts her to her window and helps her sneak in bc "what sort of knight would i be otherwise?!"

(felix can't stop shaking the entire night)

the next morning, jennette's heart is pounding as kiel shows her, athy and felix across campus - the chance is low, but still...

"ezekiel!" comes a voice, and the four watch as a turquoise haired boy waves down the alpheus heir "are these the guests you mentioned?"

kiel introduces the trio to johannes vastia before asking, "where's cabel?"

"at the training grounds, he asked if you could bring everyone there so he could show them around there."

"... they're my guests though?"

athy is quick to befriend johannes (i mean she and his sister are practically the same person, so) and at the grounds, jennette's blood runs cold

(so does felix's)

the brunette doesn't notice her at first, arguing with johannes about something as kiel introduces him as cabel ernst

jennette is hyperventilating?? actually back up is this girl even breathing??

cabel ernst from kiel's letters? the 'loud and obnoxious cabel ernst', who gradually turned into 'my acquaintance cabel ernst', then 'hardworking, passionate cabel ernst', and finally 'my friend cabel'?

she'd actually rather admired this slow build of respect between her friend and the ernst boy, and had even expressed her interest to meet him

"this is the first daughter of his highness prince claude de alger obelia, princess athanasia-" cabel mock salutes the princess before his mouth forms an 'o' and he remembers to bow, "-and here's the emperor's only daughter, her highness princess je-"

andddd his eyes widen comically "-hey, lady, it's you?"

yeah jettie is on the brink of literal death - her entire face reddens as this...cabel, grins at her

she watches as he glances behind her, "and you're the guy who was following us - sup?"

felix flinches "...you knew...?"

cabel shrugs. "i mean you do kinda suck ass at the whole subtle thing."

"don't say it like that," jennette retorts, "felix was trying his best."

"princess 😭😭 you knew as well?"

"uhhhh no?"

athy + kiel in a corner: 👁️👄👁️

they watch as cabel's eyes widen all of a sudden and he just,,,runs away

...🐦...🐦...🐦...

yeah well anyway he comes rushing back a few minutes later, a piece of cloth in his hand "...*huff* here *huff*...you go."

athy totally flips out "jennette is that your CLOAK???!??"

"uhhhhh no?"

"um do you realise uncle would literally wage war at this."

and as if it would make everything better,

"i washed it," cabel offers with a grin

"you didn't," the vastia heir deadpans

"i mean, johan helped a little bit."

kiel smiles murderously at the pair. "johan, did you know cabel took the princess out?"

"wait, you're a PRINCESS??"

your honour they aren't very smart

so the group orders some coffee (milk for cabel smfh) to find out what happened, cabel mentions "date" and everything goes to shit again lmfao

kiel and felix scheme against poor cabel while athy n johan get over that stage pretty quick ("listen. MY sister will be living with ME after the marriage and if your friend wants to be with her he'll have to come with us to obelia." and johan's just like "fine by me ✌️😊") and start planning the wedding

cabel + jennette dip n sneak out of the academy again to get the juice they couldn't the night before bc shit is getting awkward here

on another note, our uncle cius' musical intelligence is actually very high - he can probably play more instruments than i can name tbh, but he feels most comfortable singing and i shit you not, this man has straight up an angel's voice

(didn't like singing in front of others coz he was secretly a nerd and only knew old love songs with deep lyrics, athy found out and educated him)

jennette tends to have nightmares often, most often regarding their family - she's seen her father murder her uncle for the throne, and vice versa, athy admitting her affections towards jennette were a front to get the position of crown princess, her uncle killing her to solidify athy's claim, etc - her family is her everything, so despite however many times these horrible scenes play before her, she's left sobbing uncontrollably

and on these nights, she leaves for her father's room, who holds her close and sings her to sleep

also lucas n jennette are like sibling duo# 1,,, jettie is an active lucathy shipper even though he denies it sm - like their dynamic is just peaceful walks in the gardens as she watches the plants n lucas shi talks the nobility and kiel

claude and athy have a thing for each other's sleeping on each other? idk it's weird

athy once fell asleep on the couch while reading with him, and claude moved her head onto his lap so she wouldn't be uncomfy sitting - well, she woke up to his hand absentmindedly raking through her hair and it was just so soothing that whenever she's tired and he's working or reading, she just plops her head on his lap and zzzz

and claude wondered what was up with that, so she proposed they switch roles and he felt so awkward trying to lay down in front of her lmao

obviously athy noticed and she just started reading, thinking he might be more comfortable if her attention isn't on him completely - she ended up reading out loud while playing with his collar and he just,,,passed out

also anastacius has definitely pulled jennette aside regarding the issue of his heir at some point - she had been hesitant at first before admitting she wouldn't like to be the empress at all

i know we'd all love to see empress!jettie and her sister duchess!athy ruling the court, but i really really really can't see her wanting the title?

so thus start athy's empress lessons, but holy shit her teacher is mean

like this man makes me want to bash his face in?? so he doesn't like the idea of athy becoming empress over jennette at all, all bc of both hers and claude's mothers being commoners

he has one of those long ass sticks that you use in presentation to point at stuff?? idk but basically mans has athy name every region, its lords and their vassals during their first lesson

the first time she gets one wrong, she's too shocked as the stick meets the delicate skin of her forearm to react

now the thing is, wmmap!athy would probably stand up against this bc her dad is the emperor and she's his only heir, but i imagine with anastacius' social nature he holds many parties / balls where she's probably heard claude's mom + diana slander and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be self conscious abt it (now she's the emperor's heir while jennette, 100% royal + noble blood, is right there which probably makes her feel even less legitimate)

so she endures it, the light marks on her arms as well as the taunts of his she's too smart to not understand - perhaps this is the price to be accepted in jennette's place?

and honestly, no one really notices until at breakfast a few weeks in, where jennette mentions how her dresses are still so modest when sleeveless dresses were more in fashion - ana is suspicious because athy is always on top of these things, societal trends and such, and claude is sus from the way she hesitates slightly in her answer, "i haven't had the time lately, i suppose"

the lesson after focuses on ettiquete since everyone knows she's good at politics and such already, but now tears of frustration are pooling in her eyes because what the hell?? this guy had made an opinion of her long before he even met her, so anything she did would be wrong in his eyes

he gives her a sinister smile, "tired, princess?"

"no," she insists, keeping her voice level. he's about to spout some other nonsense, when anastacius enters the room, taking a seat across from her

anastacius watches quietly as athy answers the teacher's questions in her "public" voice. he watches as her usually cheery disposition is replaced by something far more...dead, despite the front she puts on for him. he's soundless as she hesitates in her answers where she normally would've been louder, more confident. he stops watching in silence when his niece flinches at the sight of the stick

oh.

he interrupts her lesson, not missing the way she winces almost imperceptibly when he grabs ahold of her arm, announcing, "we're going."

he just- it's just that that was the moment he knew for sure - the sight of his niece emotionally disheveled for the first time reminds him too much of how his own brother had once been, and he'd... he'd promised he wouldn't let anyone hurt his family anymore

he ends up taking her to the port with some of his advisors to welcome some royal guests, insisting that she would learn better from experience rather than books - but the guest delegation gets so boring that he sneaks her out of the meeting n they end up in the streets

now athy has no idea where they are, but apparently her uncle does?? ana has his hand on her head as he navigates the streets of the capitol as if he comes here everyday, using magic to casually disguise the two of them

in the meantime?

felix is at the port trying to cover for them smfh, he makes up this huge story about how the great wise emperor wanted to familiarize his heir with the locals, understand her subjects, yada yada

back at the palace prince claude is currently dragging a man by his collar and only upon jennette's insistence does he throw him in prison rather than literally kill him

(jettie visits him later in prison to give the guy a piece of her mind, after felix's visit he's sporting a few noticable bruises and the prisoner is practically unrecognizable once lucas visits)

back to athy + ana, they end up stuffing themselves with some super good street food as anastacius confesses that yes, he has definitely been sneaking out of the palace ever since he was a lil kid

athy almost mentions that she, lucas n jettie sneak out too but that might give him a heart attack, so

"it's so pretty, uncle cius," she says, gesturing towards the necklace he holds up. once he's paid for it, anastacius fists the necklace, opening it to reveal the jewel pendant - now imbued with his magic and replaced with gold lettering of the word athanasia

and she realises that yes, that's what both him and her dad have called her all her life, haven't they?

"you're my heir, athanasia," he uncle tells her with a small smile, "i am proud of that."

getting teary, she tells him, "i'm really proud of you too, uncle cius," triggering a very flustered + blushy anastacius

this mans craves validation - not from the sycophantic nobility, or the obsequious concubines he'd dismissed all those years ago, but from the family he thought he'd neither have nor deserve

and just the acknowledgement is so large for athy - he wants her as his heir, not because she's his niece, but bc he trusts her to look after his hard work after him??? - yeah she's totally bawling her eyes out

anastacius magics her a handkerchief but my mans magic isn't that strong?? lmao he's used up so much by now that the 'handkerchief' turns out to be some scratchy tissues

awkward amirite

nope! athy laughs at that, offering him a sip of her drink as she magics another straw and a proper handkerchief lmfaoo

n e ways so when they return, everyone's shocked to learn that the crown heir, princess athanasia will actually be joining the official circles as anastacius' temporary aid - he doesn't wanna entrust her to anyone but family, and decides that the best way to learn is by his side

(she's so confused bc lucas doesn't normally bat an eyelash when she wears the prettiest gowns, but he deadass can't look her in the eyes when she's in her aid uniform - it's more like a suit than it is a dress)

yes lucas women in suits >>>>>

everyone is STUNNED when at dinner, claude proposes they leave on vacation??

anastacius is just not having it?? like no, this is not my brother, and he throws a grape at claude to check if it's a clone or sum (¿¿how does that work??)

anyays so he ain't no felix, ana's aim is ass and it hits jettie instead

mans nearly gets on his knees to apologise

long story short everyone preps for vacation, but by some aCCiDeNt claude n athy end up at a different destination than jettie n ana, when she suggests returning to the palace to regroup, mans deadass sulks

"so you wouldn't like to spend this time with your father, despite barely visiting my office for weeks?"

o-oh

so at their return, the nobility starts pestering everyone that the princesses aren't independent enough, yada yada idc so to quell this annoyance, to the girls' joy, they get to move into emerald palace together, while claude and ana stay in the ruby and main palaces respectively

literally emerald palace becomes such a cool place to be in since it's the residence of the only decent people in this family, the brothers spend hours going through the requests of maids who want to be transferred

it's such a busy time because of athy joining the court and jettie starting her studies as well - naturally, since she isn't becoming empress, she'll be getting the duchy claude + athy were to be given in the beginning

speaking of futures, jettie's interest in plants and cooking has definitely branched out into herbs

claude notices her tending to a small garden during his visit to athy and even gives her a few tips (he had been studying medical since he was a kid, and picked it up again when athy was born and the empire stablised somewhat)

this soon becomes a routinely thing, and he actually starts reading up on some herbs and even orders a few for her prospering garden

after a month of her learning from books, claude proposes adding a medic as one of her teachers, and turns out his hunch was right?? she's excelling at medicine and they keep it between themselves for the time being

it doesn't last long though, bc they're on a hunting trip when ana injures his leg

and !! this girl istg, she gets to cleaning and wrapping the wound without blinking an eye, as if it's the most natural thing ever, and claude is just smirking while athy and anastacius and literally everyone else: 🌟💞✨jettie✨💞🌟

literal tears coming out of anastacius' eyes "how come my daughter is smarter than me😭💅"

claude: that's not a very high standard, brother

anastacius: ✨suddenly i'm an only child✨

behold, the people in charge of running an empire everyone 👏👏👏

even though jennette is claude's (unofficial) student and athy is her uncle's heir, they both ask their dads to the debutante

yes athy does dance with lucas, anastacius sent him an invitation even though he wasn't a noble (he's an active match maker 😌) and nobody dared question the emperor's special guest

at the end of the night, kiel gives jettie a letter from arlanta - it's an invitation to the academy during holidays, from a certain brunette

when she brings up the subject, felix lets out a squeak and literally everyone goes silent 😭😭

athy n kiel are just out here DARING him to spill them beans

but anastacius takes on look at his excited lil kid and decides that yups, she's going to get everything she wants

a/n: i literally don't know how many parts this should have lmaoo but y'all made it this far!! thanks for reading i hope you liked it<3

[zafirosreverie]

Hi, I was wondering if possible you could do an agatha/agnes x reader where the reader is transmasc and is having a bout of dysphoria? and agnes reaffirms their gender and soothes them? i've read all of your agnes fics and they're great, i'm sure you've received many requests so i understand if you can't do this one.

Sure thing dear! Actually, this was my only request, so thank you! ^ - ^

I'm not transmasc nor have anyone close to me that is it, but i did my homework and made a little research about this. I got the basics but I'm far from fully understanding it, so if i got anything wrong, or something offends you, please let me know so i can fix it!

I hope you enjoy it and remember that you're all beautiful, that you matter, that you're amazing and i love you! ❤

My little star (Agatha x Transmasc!Reader)

You slid through the wall until you sat on the floor and hugged your knees close to your chest. Tears were already forming on your eyes, making them burn. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to feel like this, but you couldn’t help it. It was just too much for you and you felt so tired.

Being you has never been easy. Everyone has to grow up with other people's expectations, you were sure. But it was different in your case, because you were forced to grow up as something you never were, not really. 

When you were born, someone declared you a female based on your genitals, and your family always treated you as one. They would make you wear dresses, play with dolls, they wanted you to be sweet and charming. Even your aunt taught you how to do your make up. 

“To be beautiful for the boys” she said.

But that wasn’t you. 

You enjoyed some things, of course, like the make up (as long as you keep it subtle and not too often) or even some clothes, but that was it. You just weren’t what they wanted you to be. You tried to talk with them, and even if some members of the family accepted you, the rest just didn’t, and it hurted so much when they would call you with femenine pronouns. You were sure they did it on purpose, trying to make you “regain sense”.

You didn’t want to go to school, because of the pressure of having to wear what “girls had to wear”. You stopped eating healthy and even had trouble sleeping. They thought you were throwing a tantrum. When you were old enough, you left your house. It was just too much and you had to leave that life behind. It wasn’t yours after all, it was a life made for a little girl. Not for you.

You really couldn’t remember how you ended up in Westview, but it wasn’t important. You felt safe there and everything was fine. Except that it was a lie too. 

Sometimes, you would feel someone’s eyes in your back, or would hear someone whispering (not so subtle) about your hair, your clothes, etc. It was the same thing you were running away from, but it seemed like it followed you. But, you couldn’t leave. Not this time.

“Y/N? dear, are you there?” Agatha’s voice came from the other side of the door and you sighed.

She was the only thing keeping you here. Agatha was your everything. She was the first  person you met when you arrived at the town. At that time, you believed her name was Agnes. She complimented you, saying how beautiful of a woman you were. It hurted you, yes, but it was your fault. You were the one who decided to wear makeup that day, after all.

You did want to make a good impression, so you just let it pass, and shyly agreed to have dinner with her that night, not that you really had a choice. Agnes made clear that she would come to your house that night if you didn’t go to hers. You would have been offended, but she was cute, so, the hell with it. 

And that was the start of your relationship. Dinner turned into a morning walk, that turned into lunch, that turned into tea and gossip in your house, that turned into movies night. And then it suddenly became your Friday routine. Accidental brushes turned into hand holding. Then came the first date, the first kiss and you two walked slowly to the point of no return.

After the third date, you decided it was enough and couldn’t pretend anymore. So, when she was holding you on the couch, you cleared your throat and made her pause the movie to look at you. 

It was a hard talk for you, because you didn’t want to lose her, but you also wanted her to know you. The real you. 

It was a surprise when Agnes frowned before she took your face in her hands and stared at you. She scolded you for not telling her before and quickly apologized for having called you the wrong pronouns all this time. You blinked, not expecting that reaction. It was a relief, not having to pretend with her like you did with your family.

But you weren’t the only one having to pretend. After your reveal, she took you to her house and showed you her basement.  

“A secret for a secret, hon” she had said before she told you her real name was Agatha Harkness and that she was a witch. At first, you were confused, then you were angry that she was joking like this just after you got the courage to tell her about you, then you just wanted to laugh, and finally, when she showed you her beautiful purple magic, you blinked. You felt fear, but it was just for a second. Then, you remembered all the words she said to you, how she wanted to be there for you, by your side. And you knew, you wanted that too. You wanted to be with her, no matter what.

Agatha became more protective of you after that. She would do anything to make sure you felt comfortable, she never questioned you for your likings and would always encourage you to be yourself. She was always by your side and you were so happy for that. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel insecure.

“Y/N” she knocked again, interrupting your thoughts “Love, please open up” she begged you and the amount of love and concern you heard in her voice was enough to finally let the tears run through your face. 

Agatha frowned when she heard you crying and decided it was enough. Using her magic, she opened the door and quickly kneeled in front of you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, pulling you into her arms. 

You hid your face in her chest and tried to explain it, but it came out in parts. Just a few words. So she asked for your permission to look at your mind. It took you some minutes but you finally nodded and she did it.

She saw it all like you lived it. She felt the same eyes on her back as you did, heard the same whispers, saw the same judging look you got. Some were eyes from people of Westview, but others were from people outside, your family, ex friends, etc. She felt the same anxiety you had, the need to run, to scream. To be free. 

She saw the world like you did, and it broke her heart. Because you were watching the world with broken eyes. 

Agatha felt her own tears coming to her eyes, as she saw you looking at yourself through the mirror, you had half of your face with make up, but you doubted doing the other side. She saw how you wanted to pick flowers, but kept walking when people looked at you. 

She felt your insecurity. 

“I don’t know who i am anymore” you whispered when she came back to reality. Agatha kissed your temple and gently rocked you, her holding tightening around you. 

“You’re Y/N” she said “my little star”

“But i don’t know what i am” you cried “I always fought against the idea of being a woman, but i keep doing things that women do”

“No�� she said “you do things that people do”

“This is not how transmasc people are supposed to be” 

“Y/N, there’s not right way to be transmasc” she whispered, running her finger through your hair “or anything else, for the record. People don’t have to look or act a certain way for their gender to be valid. You want to wear makeup sometimes? Then we’ll do each other’s make up! You want to pick flowers? Then you go to that garden and bring back a bouquet for our kitchen table. You can do anything you want because just you are you. Love, nobody can tell you how to be you.”

You cried harder on her chest, not understanding how someone that was supposedly evil could love this much. Agatha pressed another kiss on your temple before she grabbed you by the chin, making your e/c eyes meet her blue ones. 

“I love you, Y/N. Y-O-U.It’s up to you to decide what you’re comfortable with, but whatever you decide it is, i’ll be by your side” 

A small smile appeared on your face and you silently swore you would give this woman the world. You would fight Wanda, her magic and everything else for her. She wiped your tears before she lovingly kissed you, making you feel like, no matter what, you  were her little star, and you will be safe.

[needtherapy]

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.  

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

[ragingbookdragon]

A Lifetime In The Dreams Between

Hal Jordan x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: Explicit Lanuage, Angst!

Author's Note: I have completed an idea! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He didn’t know what happened. One second he was throwing up a shield to protect himself from the blast and the next his eyes were widening as the black magic passed through the construct and hit him straight in the chest. Shouts echoed all around him, but all Hal understood was that the world was swirling black and blue around him, figures blurring faster and faster, and he finally understood what it was like to see the world when Barry would run. And all he remembered was feeling the blood drain from his face as he dropped to his knees, and pitched forward, falling into darkness.

***

He could hear voices above him, stressed and frantic.

“He’s going into cardiac arrest!” Barry.

“Shit! Flash shock him!” (Y/N)?

“He won’t survive that much generated electricity!”

“Hal won’t survive if you don’t! Damn it, Barry! Shock him!”

Hands pressed to his chest and a shock jumped Hal’s chest, and he descended back into darkness.

***

His eyes snapped open, and he winced, raising a hand to his head, but someone grabbed his arm. “Don’t try to move, Hal.”

He lolled his head, eyes rolling as the metal ceiling flowed above; he felt so far away and so weak, brain fuzzing, and Barry appeared in his sight, searing his gaze.

“He’s having a seizure. His brain can’t handle the stress.” He looked at the woman across from him. “We have to get him to the med bay.”

She nodded, folding Hal’s hand back to his chest as she worried, “Hang on, Hal. You’re going to be okay.”

(Y/N)’s voice was so comforting, so warm, so trusting, and all Hal could do was shut his eyes, his brain imploding on itself.

***

He rolled over onto his side, burrowing his face in the soft pillow, exhaling deeply. Sleep welcomed him again and he was about to fall off the deep end when someone’s hand caressed his hip, lips pressing against the space between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” they murmured, trailing kisses up his back to his neck and to his ear. “Sleep well?”

He moaned lowly in his throat and turned his head, blinking blearily as their face came into clearing—actually her face, and suddenly his eyes went wide as he flailed, pulling away from her. “(Y/N)!”

She cocked a brow as he fell over the side of the bed, immediately shooting up, eyes shocked and very confused. “That’s my name, Hal.” Propping herself on her elbow, she asked, “Everything alright?”

Hal’s mouth opened and closed, and he looked down, his eyes widening all over again as he realized he was nude; he jerked the sheet to cover himself, an action not really in his repertoire. His coffee eyes went to her body, and she was there too, bare as the morning day.

“You’re naked. We’re naked,” he blurted out and she huffed a laugh.

“Yeah? Traditionally, married people typically get naked every other night when they make love.”

“Married?” Hal’s eyes shot to his left hand, and he almost collapsed on the floor again; sure enough a gold band was around his ring finger. “Holy shit,” he breathed, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be more shocked about, the fact that they were married or that he didn’t remember it.

“Hal?” (Y/N) was crawling over the bed, her hand coming to cup his cheek. “Is everything alright?”

He gazed into her eyes, so stunned that this woman that hated his guts was so concerned for him. “I…I don’t know.”

Her brows furrowed and she shuffled, sitting on the edge of the bed, and maneuvered Hal’s head until it was resting in her lap, his back against the side of the frame. She carded her fingers through his hair and bent down, gently pressing kisses where she could reach, to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere; then she smiled against his lips. “Something tells me you and Barry got so drunk last night you forgot you married me.”

“What?”

(Y/N) snorted, pulling away and with her free hand, she caressed his cheek. “You and Barry went to Aviators last night and came back at like three AM hammered out of your minds.” Her smile was ridiculously bright, and it made Hal’s heartbeat flutter against his rib cage. “You,” she started, but broke into a giggle. “You looked at me and said, ‘Hey pretty mama, wanna fly with me?’.”

Laughing again, she continued, “And when I said that I was your wife, you went, ‘Holy shit, I scored.’.” (Y/N) sighed wistfully and kissed his forehead. “Barry collapsed onto the couch, and you left a trail of clothes from the living room before collapsing in the bed.”

Tugging a strand of his brown hair, she said, “I had to maneuver the covers underneath your body in order to get into bed last night.” She pressed one more kiss to his forehead. “You’re still hungover though, so get back in bed and sleep a little while longer while I go make sure Barry’s up and awake, okay?”

Hal could only nod and when he tipped his head up to let her stand, he stopped her and pulled her down, pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) responded eagerly, already forgoing checking on the Speedster as she lowered herself into his lap, and Hal immediately wrapped one arm around her waist, the other planting itself on the bed as he shifted his legs, giving himself some leverage to pick the two of them off the ground and shuffle back onto the bed.

And the second Hal’s thighs connected with the mattress he found himself being shoved down onto it, (Y/N)’s hands smoothing down his chest and abs, a flirtatious look on her face.

He couldn’t help but feel cocky. “See something you like?”

She grinned, splaying her fingers on his abdomen. “Actually, I feel something I like.” (Y/N) ground down on his hips and Hal inhaled sharply, causing her grin to turn into a downright evil smirk as she quipped, “And it seems like you feel it too.”

His hands came up to grasp her hips when someone stumbled through the bedroom door. “Hey, do you guys have any toothpa—oh dear God, you guys are fonduing!” They both jumped and looked at Barry who was busy shoving a hand to cover his eyes, the other fumbling for the door frame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t see anything, (Y/N).”

Hal snorted. “How come you’re not swearing you didn’t see any of me?”

“Because I’ve seen all of you before, Hal. Multiple times in fact.” Barry retorted, speeding out of the bedroom.

(Y/N) chuckled and pressed a kiss to Hal’s collarbone, starting to shimmy out of his lap, only stopping when he started whining at her. “What?”

“Why are you leaving?” he questioned, and she flicked his shoulder.

“Because you need to get up and cook some breakfast before all of us have to get back out and go to work.”

Hal blanched. “Work?”

(Y/N) tossed him a look as she pulled on some pajama bottoms and one of his t-shirts. “Yes, Hal Jordan, you have to go into space and be a space ranger.”

“Oh, Green Lantern, right.” He sighed in relief. “I thought you meant the airfield.”

She snorted. “Oh, that too. Carol called and asked if you’d come down and fly one of the new F-18’s they got recently.”

Hal perked up. “How fast?”

“Fast, fly-boy. Now get up and go cook while I shower.” And she was off into their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

***

Hal wandered into the kitchen, watching as Barry lifted his head from the refrigerator. “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” he replied, flicking on the coffee maker. “So…can I ask you a question?”

“I’m not checking your dick again to see if it’s above average, Hal,” Barry deadpanned and Hal about fell to his feet in laughter.

“What! No!” he chuckled and wiped his eyes, pouring water into the top of the coffee maker. “About last night…what…exactly happened?”

Barry looked at him, pulling out the pack of roast beef. “You don’t remember?”

“Well, from what (Y/N) said, I’m surprised either of us remembered how to get back here.” He met Barry’s eyes. “Everything’s a little fuzzy. I was just wondering if you could fill me in.”

The Speedster nodded, shoving a piece of meat in his mouth. “Well, I got off patrol and came over here, and then you said we should go out. But (Y/N) had some things to take care of, so she told us to go have fun. And then we went to that military bar you like, and we got dared to drink some marines under the table, and you can’t say no to a dare from ‘warthogs’, so you just had to drink more pitchers than they did.”

He snorted. “I barely had enough functioning brain cells to remember how to get back, but we just crammed into a cab and drove back here.” He wiped his eyes. “You kept telling the cabbie to play Danger Zone the entire time.”

Hal wasn’t somebody who was embarrassed easily, and as much as he loved Top Gun, he felt flustered that he was drunkenly belting out the main song the night before.

“And when we got here, I fell asleep on the couch, but (Y/N) was already chasing you down the hall because you were stripping left and right.”

Barry had all but fallen into hysterics as Hal merely set the coffee pot under the drip. “Yeah…about that too.” He felt confused. “You didn’t happen to like…change the timeline again, did you?”

The Speedster stopped laughing at that, blue eyes wide and concerned. “What? No. Why do you ask?”

Hal shook his head, twirling the gold band on his finger. “Because I don’t really remember marrying (Y/N)? But I do remember how much she hates my guts.”

“Well, yeah, but that death scare you gave her a few years ago really made her realize that as much as she hated you, she loved you just as much.” Barry rested a hand on his shoulder. “Now that I think about it, you did take a bad blow a couple days ago. Maybe you’re still reeling.”

The pilot nodded, listening to the coffee pour. “Yeah…maybe.”

Footsteps sounded from the living room and (Y/N) appeared in the entryway, a towel wrapped around her head, a bathrobe around her body; she scowled. “Hal, you were supposed to start breakfast.”

He blinked. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Lazy,” she griped, yanking the roast beef out of Barry’s hands. “That’s for sandwiches, not to eat out of the package, you bottomless pit.” Shoving the meat back in the refrigerator, she said, “There’s eggs…ham…I could omelets?”

“Omelets sound good,” Barry replied, taking the coffee mug out of Hal’s hands who in turn glared at the Speedster. “Do you have onions and peppers to add?”

“Mmm…I dunno…Hal used the last of the onions and peppers the other night to make steak with.” (Y/N) looked back at him, lips parting to speak when a beeping came from the living room.

Barry darted out and back in with a blinking device in his hands. “It’s the League Communicator.”

Immediately, she and Barry suited up and her eyes found Hal’s behind her blue mask. “Highball, get your head in the game. We’ve got a mission.”

He shook himself out of his stupor and the green suit formed to his body, though he muttered, “I still haven’t had my coffee yet…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Race you guys to the Watchtower.”

“You’re on.” Barry chirped, the two of them disappearing in flashes of yellow and blue.

***

It seemed like much more routine patrol than it was a mission, but still, when Hal and (Y/N) finally made it back to Coast City, they all but collapsed onto the couch. Her suit faded from her body, and she rolled onto her back, laying her head on his thigh.

“I’m so tired,” she groaned, shutting her eyes.

Hal stared down at her, the green suit receding. “You look tired,” he murmured, resting his arm comfortably on her chest, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in her collarbone. “I still can’t believe you socked that bank robber in the face like Guy.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Hey, that man can teach anyone to throw a good punch.” Her eyes opened, and she reached up, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “You look more tired than I am, husband of mine.”

Hal smiled, turning his face to press a sweet kiss to her wrist. “I’m just glad we’re home for the evening.” He expected her face to rest in relief, but it only clouded, and he murmured, “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember what we talked about a couple week ago?”

No, he did not.“You know I have a terrible memory, babe.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a knowing sigh passing her lips. “Your memory is almost as bad as Barry’s ability to be on time.” Blinking at the ceiling, she said, “You know, what we talked about…having a family? How you said you wanted to try?”

Hal’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Yeah? What about it?”

She looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” His eyes immediately darted to her stomach, and he reached down, pressing his hand to her abdomen. “Are you really?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah. Took a test last night.” Snorting, she added, “I was going to tell you, but you went out and got drunk, so I figured I should wait.”

Hal simply stared at her stomach. “Holy shit. You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, Hal. I’m pregnant.”

“I did that?”

“No, Bruce did.”

He scowled at her. “That’s not funny.”

(Y/N) winked. “No, it’s not. It’s hilarious.” She rose from the sofa, stretching her arms above her head. “I say it’s probably time for bed.”

Hal watched her. “You go on ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yeah?” he nodded, and she bent down, pecking his lips. “I love you, Hal.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” he replied, watching as she walked down the hallway, disappearing into their bedroom.

It was so weird. To be married to her. He knew this had to be some giant hallucination from his subconscious desires of wanting her, but still, even this “dream” seemed so real. Usually, she and Hal were at each other’s throats; they’d fight at the drop of a hat just because the other looked at them funny, and yet, other than him and Barry, (Y/N) was the only person that could keep up with Hal. To keep him on his toes. The only person smart enough to keep in his six. The only person he trusted to be his wingman. And he realized through all their fights that he cared for her.

Hal looked down at the band on his finger, and something warm spread through his chest when he thought about a little kid running around the apartment dressed in a baby flight suit, squealing “daddy!” at the top of their lungs. He wanted that. As much as being a father scared him, he wanted that. And he wanted it with (Y/N).

He smiled widely and got to his feet, but the second he did, the world shifted, and his vision darkened, body becoming weightless as he dropped to the floor.

***

Something was stroking his hair, gently smoothing it across his forehead, and a voice whispered, “Wake up, Hal. C’mon.”

He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy.

“If you wake up, I’ll watch Top Gun with you until you’re thoroughly convinced I could fly a jet.”

That made him want to smile and the hand shifted, cupping his cheek.

“Just open your eyes for me, Hal. Please. I…I need you.”

“You do?” he murmured, managing to crack one eye open, taking in the sight of (Y/N) sitting there beside his med bay bed, tears in her eyes.

She gave him a watery laugh and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Yes, you stupid ass.” (Y/N) pulled away, running her hand over his cheek. “You’ve been out almost an entire day.”

Hal inhaled deeply as she helped him sit up. “What happened?”

“You took a blow of dark magic to the heart and almost died on us. Twice.” She took his temperature and heart rate. “You went into cardiac arrest on the field and then had a seizure when we got you here in the Watchtower.” Meeting his eyes, she said, “You owe Barry a thanks for shocking your heart and J’onn for getting your mind to calm during your seizure.”

He blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wow…that’s…I took a lot of damage, huh?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed with anger, and she socked his shoulder. “You’re damn straight you did. What the fuck were you thinking? Using constructs against a black magician?”

“Well, what’d you want me to do? Stand there like a jackass?” Hal retorted with a glare.

“Maybe you could’ve moved?” she met his glare head on. “You almost got yourself killed.”

“People die every day, (Y/N). I’m going to die one day.”

“And who would you leave behind if you did, huh? You’d leave behind your family and friends. You’d leave behind Guy and Kyle and John. You’d leave behind Barry. You’d leave me behind.” (Y/N) searched his eyes. “Don’t you know how heartbroken we’d be if you died, Hal? How devastated I’d be?”

Hal’s jaw went slack, and she shook her head. “This is just like you. Always flying headfirst into danger without a single regard for anyone else. You are so foolish and stupid and—”

He grabbed her chin and pulled her to him in a searing kiss. It was over as fast as it happened and when he pulled away, he smirked at the stunned expression on her face. “Oh? So that’s what it takes for you to quit yelling at me? Man, I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

(Y/N) blinked in shock, one hand coming to press against her lips. “What…what was that?”

“That was a kiss, (Y/N). You see when two people care about each other very much they—”

The meeting of a palm and a cheek echoed through the med bay, and he grabbed his face, gaping at her as she scrambled up.

“You don’t just kiss people, you ass!” (Y/N) shouted, though she looked more flustered than angry. “That’s—It’s not right!”

She spun and ran for the med bay doors, and he called out, “Wait! You didn’t tell me if you loved me!”

“Go to hell, Hal Jordan!” she shouted in return and Hal grinned wide and smug as he reclined on the pillows, eyes directing to the glass window, giving him the view of space.

That dream didn’t seem too far out of reach now.

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Run away with Atsumu

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Miya Atsumu x afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit   Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Rough Handling, Verbal Insults, Mention of blood, Manipulation, Narcissistic behavior, Idolization

With your head bumping against the wall every time you finally slipped into sleep, your night wasn’t a particularly restful one. You wished for a soft bed, a mattress even, but all you had was that one corner in the cell you deemed ‘safe’. At least, you couldn’t be seen from the window or reached through the bars. It would give you enough time to wake up and get ready when someone came around to bother you again. 

The short clips of dreams you experienced were both colorful depictions of a better life than you were currently in, and at the same time, nightmares of shadows and claws reaching for you. Neither truly made the reality any better, but you were glad to at least get some kind of rest after everything that had happened. 

For probably an hour after your late-night visit at the window, had you continued to pace the cell. Some part of you had expected that there would be someone coming to free you after all. But the sparks of anticipation never completely started a fire of hope inside of you, and after a while, you realized no one was going to rescue you, no matter how long you waited. It was the point where you could only sigh, hug yourself and cower into your corner, wishing for the morning to come faster than the sadness and hopelessness you felt.

Undeniable, the thing that you feared the most was the feeling of acceptance that slowly but surely crept through your night. The longer you had to sit around and do nothing, the more you felt the despair of the situation. So you really would have to marry this man you barely knew? Was your life really going to take such a strange and undesired curve? Could you become happy here, under the fox spirits? Live a more or less ‘normal’ life with them? Even if you didn’t want it, for the sake of not having to fear for your well-being every second of your life, would you be able to accept it?

Those all were the thoughts weighing heavily on your mind. Other people had years to make life decisions like this - marriage, joining a new family and culture. And you had… hours, at best. The life you had wanted and imagined before was now in crumbling ruins. In contrast, you hadn’t even started building the new one, and that was not only tearing at your nerves but also ignited anxiety beyond comparison to anything you ever did before, inside of you.

“Hey,” you heard a soft voice in your dreams. It sounded so close and familiar, you were tempted to listen to it longer. So far, the voices in your dreams hadn’t been good in any way, but this one was welcoming to you for unknown reasons. Just like it was the touch to your cheek, warm and gentle, a palm keeping your head from bumping into the wall any longer. 

“Wakey-wakey ~” the voice cooed, caressing your cheeks in its hands as you slowly tore yourself out of your dreams. That was a peculiar instruction for a dream. After all, the whole point of dreaming was being asleep! You squeezed your eyes together tightly, groaning lightly under your mind awakening. Instantly, the heaviness of the situation returned, reminding you of the future and the burdensome expectations on your shoulders. It wasn’t so much a gentle awakening than it was an exhausting pull back into reality.

No wonder that when you blinked your heavy eyelids a few times, focusing your gaze on your immediate proximity, the scare of the century overcame you, seeing a face only inches from you. Your body, immediately alert, began to struggle, but your throat acted up as you wanted to scream, and a hand covered your mouth before you could go through with it. Your heart was about to leap out of your chest from the surprise, and you instinctively clasped your hand around the arm, digging your nails in. 

“Whoa! It’s me! It’s me, calm down!”

Were you supposed to know this person? Yes, the voice sounded familiar, but in the darkness, it was hard to make out any features aside from strands of light blonde hair and an eerie shine coming from the person’s eyes. Blonde hair? Where had you seen that before?

“We met at the window, remember?” 

Slowly, cautiously, you began to nod. Yeah, you remembered now. With your mind waking up, you remembered the encounter you had with the twin-like fox spirits, who got ushered away by Kita. One of them, the one who promised to come and get you, had been blonde. Your eyes grew wide as you nodded more strongly, letting off his arm, and he too put down his hand from your mouth, now that you both were sure you wouldn’t scream and alert anyone. 

“You came back...” you whispered, unbelieving. With the reality dawning on you, you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He really kept his word. He really came to get you. “You- You…”

Feeling the tears of relief well up in your eyes, you didn’t think twice before throwing yourself at him. No matter how inappropriate or out of place this action was, you were hit with unspeakable joy that someone would come for you. That there was at least one spirit with good intentions in all of this was as unbelievable as it suddenly was real, and you hugged him tightly with your arms slung around his neck. 

For a moment, you were hit with stunned silence until you realized what you were doing. You were just about to pull away when you felt his arms snake around you, pulling you in close. One hand rested against your lower back, the other on the back of your head. Completely enveloped in his arms, you could feel yourself relax a little, breathing in the earthy yet strangely sweet smell that came from him. Warmth spread all over your body, from head to toe, as he embraced you, and you felt safe and comforted in his arms, even if the situation was still far from it. 

But eventually, it was he who pulled away first, hand falling from your hair to your cheek shortly to caress it for a moment. The spirit kept you close, whispering into your ear to minimize the risk of someone else hearing you talk. “It sucks to stop now, but we have to go. I’ll hold you all you want later though!”

With a soft gasp, you pushed your hands into his chest, and you heard him chuckle while you felt yourself grow hot from embarrassment. When you moved, he let you go but kept his hand on your right elbow to pull you up into a stand. “Keep quiet and don’t let go,” he instructed, his hand falling to yours. Sparks of fear overcame you as you realized you’d have to hold his hand, simply because you expected that same sharpness of claws on his as on everyone else.

But when you laid your palm in his, he gently clasped it around your hand, squeezing it without cutting or hurting you. You could hold his just as tenderly, and yet you weren’t afraid anymore, not even about him maybe letting go of you. 

Pulling you along, you made one step before you used your weight to stop the movement immediately. “Wait!” you called out, softening your voice. Having stepped into the moonlight coming in through the window, you could see his ears twitch as you thought, the young man turning around confused about what could be.

“What…” Suddenly you felt almost ashamed to ask, and you avoided looking at him. Perhaps you were seeing him in a totally new light now. From the feared fox spirits, he had turned into something more of a prince, rescuing you, the princess, from the evil sorcerer - or so. Still, you were caught off-guard by his expressive face and the cute, moving ears on his head, the light almost coating him in a warm shimmer. You hadn’t noticed before, but he really was… handsome - if that was a word that could be used on spirits.

You almost forgot all about what kind of spirit he was.

“What’s your name…?” you asked coyly, and his lips curled up into a grin almost immediately. “Call me Atsumu,” he told you carefreely, and you couldn’t help yourself from smiling too. 

“Then… Thank you, Atsumu-san.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Before you could question him, he turned around, pulling you towards the bars. Only now did you notice the gap he created, and you wondered if he could use the same kind of magic Kita used on them before. He helped you step outside, keeping you from bumping your head on them in the dark, and led you up the stairs where he waited. “Where are we going?” you asked, cowering next to him as he checked that no one was near. 

“The forest. So far away that they can’t follow.”

“Should we go back to my house first? If… If it’s a longer journey, maybe we’ll need to prepare.”

Carefully, he opened up the door. There was no audible sound coming from it, which calmed you down as you feared someone spying you immediately. “That’s the first place they’d look. Where we’re going--” Atsumu paused, his ears twitched as he tensed, suddenly in high alert. The next seconds seemed like a small eternity to you as you instantly feared getting caught already. No words could describe the relief you felt as he relaxed again, turning to you and smiling wildly. 

“You won’t need anything ’long as I am around!”

Somehow, his chipper nature was contagious. You felt immediately better, not as overcome with worries. As if you could put yourself into his care without thinking twice, and you smiled back at him, giving a single nod in understanding. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered, squeezing your hand encouragingly, and you followed him as quietly as you could.

You would have followed him anywhere at this point.

“A-Atsumu--!” 

You did your best. You really truly gave it your all. But how could he expect you to run for as long and fast as he did? Even if you put all your energy into it, you still couldn’t keep up, your only saving grace being his hand that pulled you along. “Can’t you go faster?” he asked, pulling you by the hand roughly, so you had to set out a step to jump forward.

“I- No! No, I can’t! I need a break!”

“Come on!” he moaned, and you saw the disappointment showing on his face, making you bite your lip. He wasn’t wrong. You really couldn’t complain. He was just trying to help, and you were currently risking you both by asking for a break. By now, the village could have already noticed you being gone and started to search. You didn’t want to think about what would happen to you two if they found you.

“Humans…” you heard him grumble in front of you, tearing you out of your thoughts. Though you strained yourself to listen to the end of the sentence, you couldn’t understand it, asking, “I’m sorry?”

“I said--” With a rough tug on your hand, he made you stumble to his side, a surprised squawk escaping you. Only briefly, while you still tried to comprehend the situation, did you feel his lips fall against your temple, your eyes widening as you repeated himself. 

“Humans are so pathetic.”

“W- What--” you tried to stutter, perplex by this statement, but Atsumu didn’t bother with waiting for you to comprehend what he said, quickly continuing to drag you along. However, other than you were used to from Kita by now, Atsumu had no intention of hiding his thoughts from you, speaking them out loudly without hesitations.

“You humans are so pathetic, you don’t stand a chance against us. You’re lucky that Kita liked you, and you’re pretty. Otherwise, I don’t think he’d ever considered marrying you. What good are you? Can’t run, can’t use magic, can’t fight or hunt or at least bite! Would’ve let yourself be married off without even a bit of hissing and clawing, huh?”

“That…” You felt yourself puff up in anger as his words worked through your mind. “That’s so mean!” you complained, wanting to shake your hand free, but his hold on you stayed. 

“Oh, it wasn’t meant to be nice,” he assured you boldly, not decorating the fact that he knew he was insulting you. 

“How dare you!” you croaked in horror. Up till now, you had found him to be so nice and caring. Where was this coming from all of a sudden, you wondered? Stemming your whole weight into the next step you did, you wanted to inconvenience him by slowing him down. Even so, Atsumu easily pulled you over the ground, your heel digging into the dirt from the polar influences of strength. 

A quick, patronizing sigh fell out of his mouth before he turned around, his everlasting smile on his face. “Now, now, don’t be upset. I was merely saying the truth, alright? Look…”

Atsumu closed in the arm-length between you, and you wanted to take a precautious step back but scrambled to keep your footing on the uneven ground. Without any hesitation, he wrapped an arm around you, keeping you steady and - for you - uncomfortably close. 

“I like you,” he revealed. The small peck he left on your lips was barely noticeable before it was over again. “I like you a lot even, I think.”

His free hand came up, his pointer finger landing down on the middle of your forehead. There was a creeping nervosity as you felt the fingertip slide down between your brows and to the tip of your nose while you were aware of the sharp end of each of his fingers. 

“Without me, where would you be? What would become of you? You needed my help, and now you need me too. What do you think will happen to such a pathetic, fragile, powerless human like you if they find you after you run away?”

You gulped. There was more than one reason for you to do so. For the first time, it dawned on you that this man was no prince at all, in fact, and you wished you had realized that earlier, he was just as much a fox as all the others. This situation for you was very much out of the frying pan and into the fire. Staying in the village and running away was both as terrible of a decision, despite the realization only now revealing itself to you as Atsumu uncovered how he truly felt about you.

“Stay here and let them find you so you can be killed and eaten, or come with me. The choice is yours,” Atsumu whispered, bringing his face closer to yours as if he was about to kiss you again. With his breath on your face, you felt yourself beginning to shake, overwhelmed with the situation and the choices he was giving you. You never felt so close to death than when you heard about what they’d do to you, but going with him also didn’t sound as appealing anymore as it did before.

“I--” you started, but a sudden jolt went through Atsumu and, therefore, also through you as he suddenly perked up, his ears moving to high alert before you could finish. For a moment, everything around you went quiet as you held your breath. Atsumu subtly moved his head around, trying to make out sounds while he listened for them. 

“Chill, ‘Tsumu,” a voice rang out from behind you, and you flinched all while Atsumu relaxed a little, looking more annoyed than happy about who was interrupting. 

“‘Samu, you bastard. Did you follow us all this time?”

Finally, you caught a glimpse over your shoulder, noticing the other twin you remembered from the window earlier that night. “Nah,” he yawned, massaging the back of his neck. “Just caught up with you because you decided to stand in the middle of the territory flirtin’.”

“Damn it,” Atsumu mumbled, not really to anyone, but his gaze lowered back down to you as he thought for a moment. “They started looking for us,” he explained, and you noticeably froze up. The fear must have shown on your face, but he seemed unmoved by it. “It’s time to make a choice, Princess,” he sighed, finally pulling his arm away and letting you go. 

Immediately, you spun on your heels, running back to the grey-haired fox spirit. “Please! You have to help--” 

Before you could even finish your plead, you noticed the sudden strange spark in his eyes as he raised an arm in front of his face. It was too late when you realized that he wasn’t as comfortable around you as his brother, claws lashing out for your face as you came too close for comfort to him, just like with a wild animal.

Your eyes closed the second you realized you’d be hit, but nothing happened. Instead, you felt a gust of wind, followed by a hand pulling you back. “Woah there, Osamu.”

When you opened your eyelids again, you were staring at Atsumu’s back, shielding you from his brother and having caught his hand just a second too late after getting some scratches on his cheek already from the impact. However, he merely wiped the blood away with his sleeve, flinching from the pain. “You’re my brother,” Atsumu noted nonchalantly.

“But if you lay even one hand on her, I won’t hesitate to tear off your arm.”

“I want to see that,” Osamu replied, shaking out his wrist from Atsumu’s grip. 

“Get back,” Atsumu hushed to you, pushing you back carefully by walking backwards, never letting go of your hand. You spared a glance over your savior’s shoulder, meeting his brother’s gaze head-on. 

“Just so you know, I ain’t helping you with this,” he said, clearly talking to you. Then he turned his gaze to Atsumu, brows furrowing more in distaste. “It’s your problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Atsumu purred before getting serious again for a moment. “You’re not coming with us then?”

“Not happenin’.”

“... Alright then.”

Turning his back to his brother, Atsumu finally focused on you again, a never before seen frown on his face. “So what will it be? You comin’ with me, or do you want that scrub to drag you back to the village? He might eat you along the way, though.”

You felt your heart race as you looked at Atsumu for some time before glancing back at his brother Osamu. The latter didn’t seem too interested in the deals his brother was making, only waiting for your decision also. “I--” you whispered, trying to make the decision of your life. You never wanted to go back to this village, become the clan head’s wife, or even worse: Dinner. But was going with Atsumu really a good idea? If you knew anything about him now, he was far worse when it came to moodiness than Kita, and his real intentions were hidden by his smile. 

But still.

Your hand reaching for his sleeve, and immediately he bloomed up, his face showing a broad grin from ear to ear as he quickly reached for your hand again. With a quick wave and glance over his shoulder, he yelled, “See ya, ‘Samu!” before dragging you off again. You gave the twin another glance too, and whatever moved you to it, bowed your head briefly before trying to follow after Atsumu. Osamu merely sighed, mumbling something about ‘always having to clean up the mess’ before turning and leaving in the opposite direction, not giving you any more seconds of his mind. 

It wasn’t a decision you liked making, but in the end, your life was still more important to you than… whatever it was that Atsumu was planning. He, at least, hummed happily after you chose him, his fast pace never ceasing even when you struggled. “Will he not tell them where we are?” you asked, glancing back over your shoulder nervously, not seeing any trace of life behind you any longer. 

“Why would he?” Atsumu replied, and you figured that was the end of the discussion, even though it still made you uncomfortable not knowing what was going on. 

“What am I going to do from now on…” you whispered to yourself, feeling an overwhelming dread rise in your heart. The anxiety of the unknown and fear that maybe even after all that happened, you’d still be found and captured again. And what was the deal with Atsumu anyway? It was so hard to trust him again, even though it was precisely what you needed to do at that moment. 

“Don’t worry!” he suddenly chimed from the front as if he read your mind, and only now did you realize his lingering gaze on you, paired with an ever-casual smile. “We’ll hide somewhere no one can find us.”

“For how long?” you asked cautiously, still hoping that it would be possible to go back into your normal life someday. 

“Hm? Who knows?” Atsumu replied, laughter falling from his lips right after he said that. That didn’t give you a good feeling, but he squeezed your hand tightly and simply kept moving forward as if nothing was wrong at all.

“At least--” he laughed, the forest suddenly clearing up and revealing the great, white moon above you, once again making Atsumu seem like the beautiful being he was. However, by now, you had your doubts about it. No matter how pretty his looks were, his personality seemed to lack in many places you had yet all to uncover. 

“We’ll have a lot of time to keep the promise of hugging it out, right?”

He winked at you, and as the morning began to dawn, you realized your life would never be the same.

➤  Be safe

➤   Go back to the prologue to change your fate

➤ ?

Read other routes first to unlock more fates  

[snelbz]

What Happens In Vegas... {4}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

My neck had seized up. Pain shot through me as I slowly straightened and blinked the sleep from my eyes. I rubbed at the offending muscles, trying to get them to unlock. “Ow.”

Rhysand took one hand off the steering wheel and reached out, rubbing the back of my neck with strong fingers. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I must have slept funny.” I shuffled up in the seat, taking in our surroundings, trying not to enjoy the neck rub too much. Because of course he was crazy good with his hands. Mr. Magic Fingers coerced my muscles back into some semblance of order with seemingly little effort. I couldn’t be expected to resist. Impossible. So instead I moaned loudly and let him have his way with me

Being barely awake was my only excuse.

The sun was just rising. Tall, shadowy trees rushed by outside. Trying to get out of LA, we’d gotten caught in a traffic jam the likes of which this small town girl had never seen.

For all my good intentions, we hadn’t really talked. We’d stopped and gotten food and gas. The rest of the time, Johnny Cash had played on the stereo and I’d practiced speeches in my head. None of the words made it out of my mouth.

For some reason, I was reluctant to call a halt to our adventure and go off on my own. It had nothing to do with pulling up my big-girl panties and everything to do with how comfortable I’d begun to feel with him. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. Refreshing, even, given the last day’s worth of drama. Being with him on the open road … there was something freeing about it. At around two in the morning, I’d fallen asleep.

“Rhys, where are we?” He gave me a sidelong look, his hand still massaging my muscles. A sign flew past outside. “We’re going to Velaris?”

“That’s where my place is,” he said. “Stop tensing up.”

“Velaris?”

“Yeah. What’ve you got against Velaris?”

“Nothing.” I backpedaled fast, not wanting to appear ungrateful. “It’s just a surprise. I didn’t realize we were leaving town. Velaris. Okay.”

Rhys sighed and pulled off the road. Dust flew and stones pinged off the truck. Cass wouldn’t be pleased. He turned to face me, resting an elbow on the top of the passenger seat, boxing me in.

“Talk to me, friend,” he said.

I opened my mouth and let it all tumble out. “I have a plan. I have some money put away. I was going to go someplace quiet for a couple of weeks until this blew over. You didn’t have to put yourself out like this. I just need to get my stuff from back at the mansion and I can be out of your hair.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Well, we’re here now and I’d like to go check out my place for a couple of days. So why don’t you come with me? Just as friends. No big deal. It’s Friday now, the lawyers said they’d have the new papers sent to us Monday. We’ll sign them. I’ve got a show early next week back in LA. If you want, you can lie low at the house for a few weeks till things calm down. Sound like a plan? We spend the weekend together, then go our separate ways. All sorted.”

It did sound like a solid idea. But still, I deliberated for a second. Apparently, it was a second too long.

“You worried about spending the weekend with me or something? Am I that scary?” His gaze held mine, our faces a bare hand’s breadth apart. Dark hair fell around his perfect face. For a moment I almost forgot to breathe. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Outside a motorcycle roared past then all fell quiet again.

Was he scary? The man had no idea.

“No,” I lied, throwing in some scoff for good measure.

I don’t think he believed me. “Listen, I’m sorry about acting like an asshole back in LA.”

“It’s okay, really, Rhys. This situation would do anyone’s head in.”

“Tell me something,” he said in a low voice. “You remembered getting the tattoo. Has anything else come back to you?”

Reliving my drunken rampage wasn’t somewhere I wanted to go. Not with him. Not with anyone. I was paying the consequences by having my life upended and splashed about on the Internet. “Does this even matter? I mean, isn’t it a bit late to be having this conversation?”

“Guess so.” He shifted back in his seat and put a hand on the wheel. “You need to stretch your legs or anything?”

“A restroom would be great.”

He nodded. “No worries.”

We pulled back out onto the road, and silence ensued for several minutes. He’d turned off the stereo sometime while I slept. The quiet was awkward now and it was all my doing. Guilt sucked first thing in the morning. It probably didn’t improve later in the day, but first up, without even a drop of caffeine to fortify me, it was horrible. He’d been nice to me, trying to talk, and I’d shut him down.

“Most of that night is still a blur,” I said, trying to gently reopen the conversation.

He hummed quietly. Such was the sum total of his response.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to go further. “I remember doing shots at midnight. After that, it’s hazy. I remember the sound of the needle at the tattoo parlor, us laughing, but that’s about it. I’ve never blacked out in my life. It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

It was a little late to ask this, but I needed to know. “How did we meet?”

He exhaled hard. “Me and a group of people were leaving to go to another club. One of the girls wasn’t looking where she was going, bumped into a cocktail waitress. Apparently the waitress was new or something and she dropped her tray. Luckily, it was only a couple of empty beer bottles.”

“How did I get involved?”

He darted me a glance, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. “Some of them started giving the poor waitress shit, telling her they were going to get her fired. You just swooped in and handed them their asses.”

My eyes went wide. “I did?”

“Oh, yeah.” He licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling. “Told them they were evil, pretentious, overpriced assholes who should watch where they were walking. You helped the girl pick up the beer bottles and then you insulted my friends some more. It was pretty fucking classic, actually. I can’t remember everything you said. You got pretty creative with the insults by the end.”

I was stunned. “Huh. And you liked me for that?”

He shut his mouth and said nothing. A whole wide world of nothing. Nothing could actually cover a lot of ground when you put that much effort into it.

“What happened next?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Security came over to throw you out. Not like they were gonna argue with the rich kids.”

“No. I guess not.”

Glancing over at me, he added, “You looked panicky, so I got you out of there.”

“You left your friends for me?” I watched him in amazement.

He did a one-shoulder shrug. As if it meant nothing.

“What then?” I asked.

“We took off and had a drink in another bar.”

“I’m surprised you stuck with me.” Stunned was closer.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You treated me like a normal person. We just talked about everyday stuff. You weren’t angling to get anything out of me. You didn’t act like I was a different fucking species. When you looked at me it felt…”

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

He was lying. “Yes, you do. And it does.”

He groaned.

I pushed. “Please?”

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shifting around in the driver’s seat all uncomfortable-like. “It felt real, okay? It felt right. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “That’s a good way to explain it.”

Suddenly, he got decidedly smirky. “Plus, I’d never been propositioned quite like that.”

“Yeah. Okay, stop now.” I covered my face with my hands, and he laughed.

“Relax,” he said. “You were very sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Sweet is not a bad thing,” he replied.

He pulled the truck into a gas station, stopping in front of a pump. “Look at me.”

I lowered my fingers. Rhys stared back at me, beautiful face grinning. “You said that you thought I was a really nice guy. And that it would be great if we could go up to your room and have sex and just hang out for a while, if maybe that was something I’d be interested in doing.”

“I have all the moves,” I groaned. There might have been more embarrassing conversations in my life. Doubtful, though. Oh, good God, the thought of me trying out my smooth seduction routine on Rhys. He who had groupies and glamour models throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. If there’d been enough room under the car seat, I’d have hid down there. “What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?” Without taking his gaze off me, he popped the glove box and pulled out a baseball cap.

“This is so mortifying,” I sighed, letting my head fall back against the headset. “Why couldn’t you have forgotten too?”

He just looked at me. The smirk was long gone. For a long moment he held my gaze captive, unsmiling. The air in the car seemed to drop by about fifty degrees.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, fingers fumbling with the seat belt.

His voice was hard again. “Sure.”

I finally managed to unbuckle the stupid thing, heart galloping inside my chest. The conversation had gotten crazy heavy toward the end. It had caught me off guard. Knowing he’d stood up for me in Las Vegas, that he’d chosen me over his friends… It changed things. And it made me wonder what else I needed to know about that night.

“Wait.” He rifled among the collection of sunglasses, pulled out a pair of designer aviator shades, and handed them to me. “You’re famous now too, remember?”

“My butt is.”

He almost smiled. Almost.

He fit the baseball cap to his head and rested an arm on the steering wheel. The tattoo of my name was right there, in all its glory. It was pink around the edges and some of the letters had small scabs on them. I wasn’t the only one permanently marked by that night.

With a sigh, I hurried inside of the gas station, into the restroom. I locked myself inside of the stall and took a deep breath. 

A weekend with Rhysand. It wouldn’t be too bad...at least, that’s what I kept telling myself, and every time I did, I debated myself against it. I was nervous and, yes, a little bit scared. Ultimately, I will still uncomfortable with the fact that I was married to a stranger. I was learning more about him every day, but I still didn’t know him, and I’m not sure I would get the chance to when all was said and done. 

I mean, did it even matter?

After I saw to the necessities, I was washing my hands, scrubbing at them just to give myself a few minutes more of silence. When I opened the door to the restroom again, though, I was only halfway down the drinks aisle before I had been spotted. A pair of girls, maybe a few years younger than myself, were standing there, their eyes wide.

The sunglasses Rhys had given me were pushed on the top of my head.

Good going, Feyre.

I gave them each an awkward smile and tried to step past them. I was almost to the door, to freedom, when one of them muttered to her, “Do you think that’s her?”

I didn’t turn to let them know I’d heard them, just kept hurrying for the exit.

“I don’t think so. The girl in the pictures was much prettier.”

Ouch.

When I got back, Rhysand was standing by the truck, signing an autograph for a couple of guys, one of whom was busy doing an overly-enthusiastic air guitar performance. Rhys laughed and clapped him on the back and they talked for a couple of minutes more. He was kind, gracious. He stood smiling, chatting with them, until he noticed me hovering nearby. “Thanks, guys. If you could keep this quiet for a couple of days I’d appreciate it, yeah? We could do with a break from the insanity.”

“No worries.” One of the guys turned and grinned at me. “Congratulations. You’re way prettier in person than in your pictures.”

“Thanks.” I awkwardly smiled, not quite knowing what else to do. I preferred these guys to the girls who’d seen me in the gas station.

Rhys winked at me and opened the passenger door for me to hop in. The other man pulled out a cell phone and started snapping pictures. Rhys ignored him and hurried around to the other side of the vehicle. He didn’t speak till we were back out on the road.

“It’s not far now,” he said. “We still going to Velaris?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

Hearing Rhys talk about our first meeting had put a new spin on things. That conversation had piqued my curiosity. That he’d chosen me to some degree that night… I don’t think the possibility had occurred to me before. I’d figured we’d both let tequila do the thinking and somehow fallen into this mess together.

I was wrong. There was more to the story. Much more. Rhysand’s reluctance to answer certain questions made me wonder.

I wanted answers. But I needed to tread carefully.

“Is it always like that for you?” I asked. “Being recognized? Having people approach you all the time?” I was hesitant to tell him about the girls I saw in the gas station. I didn’t know how he’d feel about that, or if he’d reprimand me for not utilizing the sunglasses like he’d told me.

“They were fine. The crazies are a worry, but you handle it. It’s part of my job. People like the music, so…”

A bad feeling crept through me. “You did tell me who you were that night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” He gave me a snarky look, his brows bunched up.

My bad feeling crept away, only to be replaced by shame. “Sorry.”

“Feyre, I wanted you to know what the fuck you were getting into. You said you really liked me, but you weren’t that keen on my band.” He fiddled with the stereo, another half smile on his face. Soon some rock song I didn’t know played quietly over the speakers. “You felt pretty bad about it, actually. You kept apologizing over and over. Insisted on buying me a pizza to make up for it.”

“I just prefer country or pop. Or, really, anything that’s not hard rock.”

“Believe me, I know. And stop apologizing. You’re allowed to like whatever the hell you want.”

I nodded and we fell into an awkward silence. Finally, I asked, “Was it a good pizza?”

He gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “It was fine.”

I looked over at him, but his eyes were firmly on the road in front of us. “I wish I remembered.”

He snorted. “There’s a first.”

I don’t know what exactly came over me. Maybe I just wanted to see if I could make him smile. With a knee beneath me I pulled out a length of seat belt, raised myself up, and kissed him quick on the cheek. A surprise attack. His skin was warm and smooth against my lips. The man smelled so much better than he had a right to.

“What was that for?” he asked, shooting me a look out of the corner of his eye.

“For getting me out of my parent’s house and then out of LA. For talking to me about that night.” I shrugged, trying to play it off. “For lots of things.”

A little line appeared above the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Right. Yeah. No problem.”

His mouth stayed shut and his hand went to his cheek, touching where my lips had been. The looks out of the corner of his eye continued for quite some time. Each one made me wonder a bit more if Rhysand Lunasa was just as scared of me as I was of him. This reaction was even better than a smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velaris was beautiful, that much was certain, and if I thought the mansion in LA was over the top, Rhysand’s house was just as magnificent, but in a more logical sense. It wasn’t as big, but it was very modern, very sleek. 

Rhysand climbed out of the cab and walked up to the house, fiddling with a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the front door, then stopped to punch numbers into a security system.

“You coming?” he yelled.

I lingered beside the car, looking up at the magnificent house. Him and me alone. Inside there. Hmm. Waves crashed on the rocks nearby. I swore I could hear the swell of an orchestral accompaniment not too far off in the distance. The place was decidedly atmospheric. And that atmosphere was pure romance.

“What’s the problem?” Rhys came back down the stone path toward me.

“Nothing … I was just-.”

“Good.” He didn’t stop. I didn’t know what was going on until I found myself hanging upside down over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

“Shit. Rhys!”

“Relax,” he crooned. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear the smirk on his lips.

“You’re going to drop me!” I cried.

“I’m not going to drop you. Stop squirming,” he said, his arm pressing against the back of my legs. “Show some trust.”

“What are you doing?” I battered my hands against the ass of his jeans.

“It’s traditional to carry the bride across the threshold.”

“Not like this,” I laughed.

He patted my butt cheek, the one with his name on it. “Why would we wanna start being conventional now, huh?”

“I thought we were just being friends.”

“This is friendly. You should probably stop grabbing my ass, though, or I’m gonna get the wrong idea about us. Especially after that kiss in the car.”

“I’m not feeling your ass,” I grumbled, and stopped using his butt cheeks for a handhold. Like it was my fault the position left me no alternative but to hold on to his firm butt.

He snorted. “Please, you’re all over me. It’s disgusting.”

I laughed despite myself. “You put me over your shoulder, you idiot. Of course I’m all over you.”

Up the steps we went, then onto the wide wooden patio and into the house. Hardwood floors in a rich brown and moving boxes, lots and lots of moving boxes. I couldn’t see much else.

“This could be a problem,” he said.

“What could be?” I asked, still upside down, my hair obscuring my view.

“Hang on.” Carefully, he righted me, setting my feet on the floor. All the blood rushed from my head and I staggered. He grabbed my elbows, holding me upright.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I followed his gaze, looking around at the sparse furnishings. “I thought you said you lived here,” I said, as I stepped inside of the foyer and looked around.

Rhysand shut the front door behind me. As I was looking out of the floor-length front windows at the beach beyond, he said, “I haven’t been here in a while. Not much time to come home, you know?”

I nodded, as if I agreed, but I really had no idea. I had no idea what it was like to constantly be on the road, in different cities, in different countries. 

To be away from home for months, for years, and having to cope with homesickness.

“I thought there’d be more furniture,” he said. 

I turned to look at him. “You’ve never been here before?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Apart from boxes there were more boxes. They were everywhere. We stood in a large central room with a huge stone fireplace set in the far wall. You could roast a whole cow in the thing if you were so inclined. Stairs led to a second floor above and another level below this one. A dining room and open-plan kitchen came next. The place was a combination of floor-to-ceiling glass, neat lines of logs, and gray stonework. The perfect mix of old and new design techniques. It was stunning. But then all the places he lived in seemed to be.

I wondered what he’d make of my and Joey’s tiny bedraggled apartment. A silly thought. As if he’d ever see it.

“At least they got a fridge.” He pulled one of the large stainless steel doors open. Every inch of space inside had been packed with food and beverages. “Excellent.”

“Who are ‘they’?” I asked, following behind him.

“The people that look after the place for me. Friends of mine. I called them, asked them to sort some stuff out for us.” He pulled out a beer and popped the lid. “Cheers.”

I smiled, amused. “For breakfast?”

“I’ve been awake for two days. I want a beer, then I want a bed. Man, I hope they thought to get a bed.” Beer in hand, he ambled back through the kitchen and entryway and up the stairs. I followed, curious.

He pushed open one bedroom door after another. There were four in total and each had its own bathroom because cool, rich people clearly couldn’t share. At the final door at the end of the hall he stopped and sagged with relief. “Thank fuck for that.”

A kingdom of a bed made up with clean, white sheets waited within. And a couple more boxes.

“What’s with all the boxes?” I asked. “Did they only get one bed?”

“Sometimes I buy stuff on my travels. Sometimes people give me stuff. I’ve just been sending it all here for the last few years. Take a look if you want. And yes, there’s only one bed.” He took another swig of beer. “You think I’m made of money?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who got Cartier to open so I could pick out a ring.”

“You remember that?” He smiled around the bottle.

“No, I just assumed given what time of night it must have been.” I wandered over to the wall of windows. Such an amazing view.

“You tried to pick some shitty little thing. I couldn’t believe it.” He stared at me, but his gaze was distant.

I winced. “I threw the ring at the lawyers.”

He flinched and studied his shoes. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry. They just made me so mad.”

“Lawyers do that.” He took another swig of the beer. “Cass said you took a swing at him.”

“I missed.”

“Probably for the best. He’s an idiot but he means well.”

“Yeah, he was really nice to me.” Crossing my arms, I checked out the rest of his big bedroom, wandering into the bathroom. The Jacuzzi would have made Cassian’s curl up in shame. The place was sumptuous. Yet again the feeling of not belonging, of not fitting in with the décor, hit me hard.

“That’s some heavy frown, friend,” he said.

I attempted a smile. “I’m just still trying to figure things out. I mean, is that why you took the plunge in Vegas? Because you’re unhappy? And apart from Cassian, you’re surrounded by jerks?”

“Fuck.” His let his head fall back. “Do we have to keep talking about that night?”

I was getting just as frustrated as he was. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t that, okay?”

“Then what?” I pressed.

“We were in Vegas, Feyre. Shit happens.”

I shut my mouth. Ouch.

“I don’t mean…” He wiped a hand across his face. “Fuck. Look, don’t think it was just all drinking and partying and that’s the only reason anything happened. Why we happened. I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

I threw my arms out. It seemed the only proper response. “But that’s what I do think. That’s exactly what I think. That’s the only way this fits together in my head. When a girl like me wakes up married to a guy like you, what else can she possibly think? God, Rhys, look at you. You’re beautiful, rich, and successful. Tamlin was right, this makes no sense.”

He turned on me, face tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk yourself down like that.”

I just sighed, shaking my head.

He went on. “I’m serious. Don’t you ever give what that asshole said another thought, understood?”

“Then give me something. Tell me what it was like between us that night.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. “Nah. I don’t want to dredge it all up, you know? Water under the bridge or whatever. I just don’t want you thinking that the whole night was some alcohol-fueled frenzy or something, that’s all. Honestly, you didn’t even seem that drunk most of it.”

“Rhys, you’re hedging. Come on. It’s not fair that you remember and I don’t.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard, cold, in a way I hadn’t heard it. He loomed over me, jaw set. “It’s not fair that I remember and you don’t, Feyre.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going out.” True to his word, he stormed out the door. Heavy footsteps thumped along the hallway and back down the stairs. I stood staring after him.