#OFFERINGS FOR THE SCARLET KING. (Submissions)

[huicitawrites]

Diaries of the Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Heian Sukuna x Fem! Reader tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Diary Entry #?, The Harvest Festival

all entries

-It has been two years since you've become his priestess.

You sit on your knees, head bowed, the scarlet hakama folded perfectly beneath you, your pristine white kosode a mockery of the purity expected of a priestess.

What a joke, you think bitterly.

The being in front of you is far from holy—he is the devil incarnate, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Hesitantly, you peel one eye open.

His huge, muscular form sits without a care for modesty, one knee raised, the other placed open, his four arms slouching around his body. His four bloodshot eyes hold no emotion, and his two-sided face remains blank. The harvest festival, so sacred to the people, means nothing to him. All that mattered was that he would be revered.

They would pray to him, treat him as a god, and with that thought, his ego was fed. His lips twisted into a smug smile.

You felt dirty despite your clean robes. After all, being his priestess meant serving his blasphemy.

His grin caught your attention, and your eyes were drawn to his face. But when his gaze locked with yours, you quickly looked away.

You heard a deep chuckle rumble through his broad chest.

You despised making eye contact with him. You couldn’t bear those crimson, bloodshot eyes. They were seared into your memory, a scar etched into your soul on that day.

The day your clan was massacred. In your weakness, you surrendered to his mercy and betrayed the legacy of your parents. You became his ‘priestess.’

A fancy title for a slave, nothing more—a pawn in the hands of the King of Curses who sought to be a god. A God of Chaos, a God of Suffering, a God of Carnage.

The drums began, a slow, steady thud that echoed through the temple halls, shaking you from your thoughts. The festival was starting. You remained kneeling beside Sukuna, just behind his massive form, your hands folded neatly in front of you. The beat of the drums reverberated in your chest, growing louder with each passing moment, as the priests below began their solemn procession.

They moved in tandem, their steps perfectly synchronized with the rhythm, white robes swaying like ghostly apparitions. Incense wafted into the air, thick and cloying, its sweet scent filling the temple as it curled upward to the dark rafters. You felt trapped beneath the weight of it all: the suffocating smoke, the oppressive atmosphere, and the sheer force of Sukuna’s cursed energy beside you.

The chanting began, a deep, guttural sound that filled the courtyard. Ancient words, meant to honor the gods, now twisted in purpose, directed at the devil sitting next to you. The villagers and priests alike believed this to be a sacred festival, a prayer for a prosperous harvest, but you knew the truth.

This was no prayer to the gods. This was a celebration of him, Ryomen Sukuna, so that he may be more willing to spare their lives. The villagers and priests would leave tonight, grateful just to have survived the day under his gaze.

You glanced at Sukuna again, careful not to meet his eyes this time. His expression was as indifferent as ever, his four eyes half-lidded in boredom. One arm rested lazily on his knee, while the others hung loosely by his sides. Uraume stood by his right side, ever faithful, the perfect servant.

The villagers knelt outside the temple, their foreheads pressed into the dirt, offering their fear and devotion in the only way they knew. None of them dared look up, too terrified of the consequences. Sukuna’s smirk grew, feeding off their terror, and you could feel the faint pulse of satisfaction that radiated from him. This festival—this display of submission—was nothing more than fuel for his inflated ego.

The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drums quickening, as the priests raised their hands in supplication. Before Sukuna, they laid baskets of rice, fruit, and incense.

You stood there, silent and still, your head slightly bowed in mock reverence.

But as the chanting reached a fevered pitch and the drumbeats pounded in your ears, you felt a shift in the air. The festival was only just beginning, and for some reason, your gut was screaming at you, warning you to not lower your guard.

Then, a figure emerged from the crowd. It was a half-naked woman—her kimono slipping from her shoulders and wide open. Her wild eyes locked onto Sukuna the moment she saw him, and something changed in her expression—a manic grin spread across her face, unrestrained and desperate.

“Yorozu-sama, wait!!” you heard a young voice plead.

But as you turned your face to comprehend just what in the heavens was going on, a venomous voice whispered in your ear, "Out of the way, bitch."

“From now on, I will be the one to stand by his side!” Yorozu’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful.

And then it happened—a swift, brutal kick struck you in the side, sending you flying off the wooden altar. You gasped as the air was forced from your lungs, landing hard on the floor below. The gravel dug into your body as the world around you spun and blurred.

You winced, barely able to lift your head, blinking a few times as your vision recovered.

The sight of Sukuna made your stomach twist. He hadn’t moved, but his expression had changed—the casual indifference wiped away, replaced by a deep, disgusted frown. His eyes burned with fury, a heat that seethed and promised destruction.

Uraume stepped forward quickly. “How dare you,” they snarled, standing between Yorozu and their master. Their voice was cold and sharp, the tension palpable. They wouldn’t allow such disrespect to stand.

Yorozu, however, ignored Uraume entirely. She didn’t even look at them, her eyes only for Sukuna, her fixation unwavering. She was completely enamored, her entire focus on him and no one else. Uraume’s presence meant no threat to her.

You groaned and coughed, your chest heaving with each breath. The pain was sharp, but you could feel a servant’s hands on you, lifting you gently, trying to help you sit upright. You leaned into their support, struggling to regain control over your breathing.

The servant whispered in your ear, their hands delicate and soft as they tried to calm you. “Forgive my lady's actions, please, stay still. You’re hurt.”

Yet your focus—no, all eyes—were on the woman standing in front of Sukuna, her half-naked form still and eerily focused. Yorozu, crazed and delirious with adoration, stood as if she had discovered something divine.

"Sukuna…!" the mad woman praised, her voice shaking with reverence. "You are magnificent! Seeing you in the flesh—" Yorozu took a step closer, eyes bright with infatuation. Her words of praise drowned in the background noise of hushed whispers as you felt the gentle hands from before pat your shoulders.

You turned to the servant holding you, and your eyes widened in fear. It was a boy, surely no more than ten. Your eyes jumped from the child to Yorozu and then to Sukuna. Back and forth, you repeated this pattern.

“You look… lonely. I can feel it. Allow me to be the one to cure your loneliness! Let us turn this world into a cursed chaos—

Amidst her blabbering, the realization befell you, and as the boy tried to lift you up, your hands twisted the fabric of his yukata.

"Run. Flee at once!"

"Miss, you need to calm down! I need to take you to the healers—"

-a world fit for the King of Curses! A world where—”

“Shut up.”

Sukuna’s deep voice cut through Yorozu's words with finality, cold and disdain. Before she could react, Sukuna moved.

With barely a flick of his wrist, he unleashed his cursed technique, faster than a heartbeat. An invisible slash of cursed energy sliced through the air, clean and precise. Yorozu’s words choked into a sharp gasp, her eyes still lovesick and lidded as her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless in an instant.

The priests and villagers cowered, their terrified murmurs drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of Sukuna’s presence. Blood splattered the gravel floor beneath her, pooling around her as if her life had never mattered. Silence hung heavy once more.

Your breath hitched as you tried to stand up and move the shocked child away. The pain in your chest flared up again, making you struggle against your coughs. But before you could get away with the child in hand, a shadow loomed over both of you.

In one swift motion, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, strong hands wrapping around you, pulling you up effortlessly. Your body was pressed against Sukuna’s massive form, his cursed energy suffocating as it crackled in the air.

You heard a thud behind you and turned your head sharply to assess the child's well-being.

Yet two of his arms held you firmly, immobilizing you. One hand gripped your waist, the other snatched your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His crimson eyes inspecting every detail of your face. “Are you hurt?” he asked calmly.

Your heart raced, panic flaring as the blood from Yorozu pooled around the gravel. “The boy—please, he’s just—”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened, “Pay attention to me,” he said, his voice a dangerous command “Answer me—are you hurt?”

The words barely escaped your lips. “I—I’m fine, my Lord,” you stammered, feeling utterly vulnerable within his caging arms.

Satisfied for the moment, Sukuna turned his attention back to the villagers, who now knelt in terror, prayers spilling from their lips, frantic and desperate. His voice dripped with dark amusement, the very embodiment of menace. “Quite the rude hosts, don’t you think?” he remarked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “They seem to have forgotten their place.”

As he raised his spear, glimmering ominously in the dim light, the air turned thick with tension. You could feel it before it happened—a wave of pure, unfiltered chaos. Carnage ensued.

Screams erupted as Sukuna cut through flesh and bone, a whirlwind of death and destruction. The villagers, once fervent in their prayers, now fled in terror, but there was nowhere to hide from the King of Curses. They fell around you, bodies littering the ground like discarded offerings.

Pinned in his grip, your eyes were shut but you were forced to withstand the sounds of the massacre. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with a primal excitement, the thrill of slaughter igniting a fire within him that was terrifying. Each swipe of his weapon, each agonized scream, only served to fuel his insatiable bloodlust.

“Such chaos… it’s intoxicating,” he mused, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction that sent chills down your spine.

As the last echoes of terror faded into silence, Sukuna’s gaze turned back to you, his grip still firm around your waist. His eyes darkened, holding a predatory intensity that made your heart race.

With a twisted smirk curling his lips, he leaned closer, the scent of blood and incense clinging to him. “Consider this a reminder,” he murmured, voice low and chilling, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin.

"Uraume", he called out and the cursed-ice user made no haste to come close and kneel, "Let's go."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama"

And so, as he carried you away and Uraume left in tow, your eyes desperately secanned for any hint of survivors, but you only found a torn piece of that poor, innocent boy's yukata on the pools of blood.

[wintershieldbingo]

⚔️ March in WinterShield-Land ⚔️

Check out all the Shieldlings and WinterBabies who participated this month!

Remember to be highlighted in these monthly masterlists, you must use the bingo fill submission form so that the mods will be notified of each submission you create. Don’t forget to tag us in your posts here on tumblr using @wintershieldbingo and #wintershieldbingo if you’d like to be reblogged. We don’t want to miss your tumblr posts!

A Road Paved in Uncertainty by vesperlucien @dvrkblooms

⚔️ Fanwork: Multichapter Fic ⚔️ Warning: Author Chose Not to Warn, Dark Fiction ⚔️ Bucky Barnes, an unmated omega at 29 and fresh out of grad school, is considered a spinster and way past his prime. When he receives a mysterious package, his luck seems to begin to change.

a thin wisp of scarlet smoke, ch 2 by @adarkforestwitch

⚔️ Fanwork: Multichapter Fic ⚔️ Warning: Author Chose Not to Warn, consent issues, manipulation, marking, possession ⚔️ Steve knows Bucky wants more, he can see the boy he used to love haunting him from the tired blue-grey irises of the man he saved. He wants Bucky too, so bad, but he can’t have him. Night after night he’s plagued with nightmares that terrify him. What’s worse? He wants what’s in them. He wants the darkness that’s brimming within him to be unleashed, he wants to take and take and take. How could he allow Bucky to experience that? No, no way. He can’t do it, he won’t. He does.

heart made of glass, my mind of stone by aspen_blackwood @blackwood4stucky

⚔️ Fanwork: Multichapter Fic ⚔️ Warning: Author Chose Not to Warn ⚔️ Steve hesitated by the entryway to the kitchen. Just being around Ma Winnie made him nervous given how he felt about her son. - a dark and twisted fairytale

The lion king by BuckysWintersoldier @buck-star

⚔️ Fanwork: Oneshot ⚔️ Warning: No Warnings Apply, Hint of angst, past marking with a tattoo (not Bucky) ⚔️ A tattoo covering leads to something unexpected — something beautiful, that neither Bucky nor Steve had in mind then the smaller man walked in to get his tattoo covered.

The Weight of Unslumbering Desolation by vesperlucien @dvrkblooms

⚔️ Fanwork: Multichapter Fic ⚔️ Warning: Author Chose Not to Warn, Dark Romance, Non Con, Somnophilia, Underage Character ⚔️ Bucky’s realizations bring a certain amount of clarity to his situation that don’t necessarily offer comfort. - Steven Grant is called back to his home in the wilds. Will he bring his new muse with him or will he leave the little one to his human fate?

Make Stucky proud by reading these works in your spare time!

Happy Fic Hunting,

Bingo Mods

[oathkeeperoathbreaker]

A Clash of Crowns

The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago, yielded up to Aegon the Conqueror when Torrhen Stark knelt in submission. What Aegon had done with it no man could say. Lord Hoster’s smith had done his work well, and Robb’s crown looked much as the other was said to have looked in the tales told of the Stark kings of old; an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. Of gold and silver and gemstones, it had none; bronze and iron were the metals of winter, dark and strong to fight against the cold.

Catelyn I, A CLASH OF KINGS

Small wonder the lords gather around him with such fervor, she thought, he is Robert come again. Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile. The slender circlet around his brows seemed to suit him well. It was soft gold, a ring of roses exquisitely wrought; at the front lifted a stag’s head of dark green jade, adorned with golden eyes and golden antlers.

Catelyn II, A CLASH OF KINGS

As he neared, she saw that Stannis wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. His belt was studded with garnets and yellow topaz, and a great square-cut ruby was set in the hilt of the sword he wore. Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown roughspun. The device on his sun-yellow banner showed a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire. The crowned stag was there, yes . . . shrunken and enclosed within the heart.

Catelyn III, A CLASH OF KINGS

Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Jogos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. A widow brought the dried corpse of her husband, covered with a crust of silvered leaves; such remnants were believed to have great power, especially if the deceased had been a sorcerer, as this one had. And the Tourmaline Brotherhood pressed on her a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon; the coils were yellow gold, the wings silver, the heads carved from jade, ivory, and onyx.

Daenerys III, A CLASH OF KINGS

[H]e donned his crown, a band of cold iron slim as a finger, set with heavy chunks of black diamond and nuggets of gold. It was misshapen and ugly, but there was no help for that. Mikken lay buried in the lichyard, and the new smith was capable of little more than nails and horseshoes. Theon consoled himself with the reminder that it was only a prince’s crown. He would have something much finer when he was crowned king.

Theon V, A CLASH OF KINGS

The denizens of Joffrey’s court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. The High Septon’s crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth-of-gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade. Moon Boy and Ser Dontos wore new suits of motley, clean as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown.

Sansa VIII, A CLASH OF KINGS

[idyllias]

why I think Wanda made a Faustian deal with Mephisto and how it’s affected the show so far

so I’ve seen a lot of people talking about Mephisto casually throughout the Wandavision tags but I wanted to document my take on the matter so here it is !!

So who is Mephisto?

According to the Marvel Database, Mephisto is an extra-dimensional demon who is basically a stand-in for Satan in the Marvel universe. He usually has the appearance of what you would imagine the Devil to look like (the red skin and whatnot), but he’s also a known shapeshifter, appearing as a snake in the Garden of Eden, as a fly in his earlier narratives, etc.

 Among his powers he possesses superspeed, superhuman strength, stamina and regeneration powers, as well as abilities like magical manipulation, mystical deal and reality manipulation. However, these do have limitations. Here are some quotes from the Marvel Database that I felt were relevant to what’s happened in Wandavision so far: 

“He is unable to force the subjugation of any sentient beings will to his own without that being’s deliberate submission.” (consent king)

“Moreover, Mephisto’s reality manipulation does not seem to be  completely permanent...”  

“He is also incapable of reading the thoughts of any sentient being.”

“Mephisto’s powers are linked with his extra-dimensional realm and his powers rapidly decrease the longer he is away from his realm. As a result, he typically uses or manipulates others into performing whatever plan he has in mind.”

This is where I believe Wanda comes into play.

Wanda’s strengths and powers make up for nearly all of Mephisto’s shortcomings. She’s able to penetrate people’s minds and control them without consent, something Mephisto can’t do. I’m not entirely sure what Mephisto’s plans could be, but it’s mentioned he manipulates others into doing whatever he needs. 

Now take Wanda’s state of mind. She lost her brother, went into hiding for years and abandoned the one she loved, only seeing him in secret rendezvous, then had to kill him only to have him resurrected and brutally murdered in front of her. She’s grieving. And she’s vulnerable. 

She’s a perfect pawn for Mephisto to accomplish whatever plan he has in mind. 

He just had to offer her something she wanted. Maybe a quiet life in the suburbs, with the love of her life playing husband, cheeky neighbors always willing to lend a hand, her brother’s return, children... how would a grieving person say no to that? So Wanda made a deal with Mephisto. 

Here’s how I think the timeline went. 

SWORD was in possession of Vision’s body. This was odd from the beginning, considering Vision died five years ago, so I believe they probably acquired the corpse to study his body and replicate it. Wanda stormed SWORD headquarters to retrieve Vision. I’m not sure of her intentions then, nonetheless it led to his resurrection in Westview.

Due to Mephisto’s lack of mind control ability, Wanda was to take responsibility of all the citizens in Westview. Mephisto would then alter the reality in which they lived in. An interesting aspect about Mephisto’s reality-altering abilities is that they’re not permanent. I think that’s the reason why the show keeps switching decades: Mephisto can’t maintain the aesthetics for too long because his powers won’t allow him to. 

Now, if Wanda is in control of the people in Westview, why are Billy and Tommy out of her control?

If you’re familiar with the boys’ origin in the comics, you know in a way they are Mephisto’s children. Tommy and Billy were conceived by the Scarlet Witch using slivers of Mephisto’s soul, and I think that’s the reason she can’t control them. At first I thought it was a children thing due to Agnes saying “Kids, you can’t control ‘em” in Episode 5, but Episode 6 has shown that Wanda is well capable of controlling them. 

If we venture and say that Wanda can’t use mind control on Mephisto, then it would make sense that she couldn’t do the same with her kids, them being his offsprings (and I really think they are, considering Pietro literally called them “demon spawn”). 

Which leads me to another point, which is probably irrelevant to most of you, but is actually a big reason of why I wrote this in the first place...

The Fucking Stork. 

None of you know how much I racked my brain thinking about this fucking animal. I thought it was so weird, considering how everything that Wanda has tried to make disappear has been eliminated, but this motherfucker just flapped his wings and made the red smoke go away. It would be really funny if it just turned out to be irrelevant but I think the stork was Mephisto. He’s a known shapeshifter, and if he’s in control of the reality they’re in, it makes sense that Wanda wouldn’t be able to poof him away. 

So what does Mephisto want?

I’m not sure yet. The Marvel Database does say this about his goals in the comics:

“Mephisto's domain is inhabited by himself, by lesser demons who serve him, and by the astral forms of certain deceased human beings, which have been trapped in the bodies of demons. These demonic bodies imprisoning human spirits have been magically altered to resemble the deceased's mortal human forms. Mephisto is continually seeking to add more spirits of sentient beings to his realm by inducing living sentient beings to submit their wills to his. Mephisto apparently seeks primarily to enslave human souls, although he will go after those of extraterrestrials on Earth as well.”

If I’m already spitballing about storks, I’d say he has some sort of plan to colonize Earth to add to his human soul collection. It could make sense, considering the people of Westview are already trapped in the Hex and its already expanded in the past episode. If this is his purpose, it’s just a matter of getting everyone to submit to his will, cause he is concerned with consent and all that. But I’m sure whatever it is, he’s already calculated Wanda into his plans to make up for all that which he lacks. 

So yeah, this is what I think is going on with Wandavision so far. I’ll probably be proven wrong in like the next episode because these Marvel writers sure know how to keep people on their toes, but it’s always fun to theorize with what you have. If you have any other cool theories or ideas feel free to add on !! :)

[mostlycompetentwriter]

You Can STAY- Part One

M/F Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (M/F side pairings: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU, Scarlet Heart AU, OT8 SKZ

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Language?

Summary: Loosely based on the K-Drama Moon Lovers Scarlet Heart Ryeo, a beautiful, but deadly, magic-user is invited to be the royal Mage to the King. It is a great honor for a young lady to accept, but she does not anticipate the deadly game of court politics awaiting her arrival. Not to mention eight young princes who all begin vying for her affections.

The sky is exquisite at its rare setting caught between the fall of the sun and the vast expanse of an illuminated horizon. I could admire it for hours, feeling the soft breeze tangle the strands of my hair while I counted the glistening stars adorning the rapidly darkening sea of black. In these moments of solitude, I can reflect back on all that has led me to this point in my life. An endless tournament of fights to prove myself as the strongest, competing against some of the greatest magic-users to ever cross the grassy high plains of the Clè Kingdom. Yet, in the end, I was the one who emerged victorious, accepting the honor of positioning myself as the Court’s chosen Royal Mage solely responsible for protecting the King and his people from potential threats to the North. 

It was the kind of status that every able-bodied magic-user strived to achieve in some capacity. Notwithstanding, it was often difficult and dangerous work, but I knew in my heart that I wanted nothing more than the privilege to serve my people. Because a kingdom was only as strong as its weakest soldiers and I was determined to accommodate any weaknesses detected amongst our people. For this reason, I have bravely trekked far away from my home village, arriving at the gate point to the Royal City just before Nightfall. My plan was to make camp here in the forest overlooking the castle, taking advantage of one more night’s sleep of freedom before I relinquished my complete servitude to the Royal family.

I shivered just thinking about it, wrapping my arms tighter around my torso to imitate the warmth and comfort of my mother’s embrace. Sadly, the only considerable disadvantage of my position is the fact that I am meant to serve alone, leaving my family behind for the next step in my journey. But I could rest easy knowing that I would be sending them a sizable income back home to allow them the life of luxury they deserved. Especially for my youngest sister, who was suffering from a rare sickness that required immediate attention and my monthly allowance would easily accommodate her expenses. It brought me a sense of pride knowing that I could take care of my family now as they have done for me all of my life. 

Ironically, I knew very little about the Court I was meant to serve. Such trivial politics have never served me any use in my life as I often dedicated my time to learning new magic as opposed to memorizing Royal names. All I knew for certain was that the King was much older now and he had married various wives with whom he had sired many children. Eight of them to be precise. Otherwise, I was completely ignorant of the castle itself, a foreign entity that provided countless occasions of deep pondering on my part. I would frequently think about the people here: what they were like and how I was meant to serve them. 

But deep in my heart, I knew that the most righteous path was seldom the one most familiar and worn. Instead, it was the mysterious path, full of twists and turns, that provided the greatest benefit in life. This is why I stand on the precipice of the unknown, prepared to start over again as I contributed my magic to the King and his Kingdom. It was everything that I had dreamed about since I first realized that I possessed magical influence, and I was determined to succeed.

With such promising potential for my future, I was finally able to succumb to a necessary sleep under the peaceful watch of the intimate stars. Thereafter, I dreamed of many great things like standing at the front of the King’s army, facing enemies with pride and unmatched skill. Because I was determined to become the greatest magic-user to ever serve the Kingdom.

Consequently, by daybreak, I felt well-rested enough to conquer the remaining miles to my destination with unrivaled enthusiasm, arriving at the vast front gates by noon. Unsurprisingly, two guards awaited my arrival dressed in Royal colors of black and yellow, swords poised at their sides and helmets vibrating beneath the influence of the sun. It was an imposing sight, and I remembered to steady my nerves before approaching the guards. 

“Greetings, friends,” I said. “My name is Y/N. I am expected by the King to accept my new post as the Court’s Mage.”

My words were met by initial silence until one of the guards bowed low at the waist as if finally understanding my claim. I continued to wait patiently while he retreated behind the great doors barricading the castle. In the meantime, I took a moment to admire the elegance of the enormous fortress; a patterned wall of symmetrical stone pieces held together, undoubtedly, by a useful combination of magic and hard-work at the hands of my predecessors and an array of talented craftsmen. In any case, I recalled the circulating rumors from my home village that the walls were impossible to penetrate and provided ample security to those who dwelled inside.

It certainly paid no favors to someone like myself who stood on the outside. In fact, the sun was hot against my body and I resisted the urge to fan my flushed skin when the guard finally returned accompanied by an elderly woman whose bright green eyes appraised me with clear disdain. “The Royal Mage?”

“That’s me, ma’am,” I said politely, maintaining my manners even when it was clear that this woman would not extend the same courtesy.

“I am the head of the house,” she explained. “You can call me Ms. White if it pleases you.” 

“It would ma’am,” I said. “I enjoy the honor of addressing the recipient of my conversation.”

“Well,” Ms. White sniffed, head held high as she nodded to the guard. “Come inside quickly. Your room has been prepared.”

I offered another bow, rising only when Ms. White turned her back to me, fully expecting the new Mage to follow her as she led us inside the castle for the very first time. With a shiver of anticipation, I held my head high with newfound pride as we walked through the wide halls together, lit by the elegant candles from the gothic wall sconces. It provided the castle with an air of intimacy, compelling me to gaze around at my surroundings with a sort of childish wonder that I had not experienced in a very long time. 

Ms. White ignored the way I gasped at the brilliant chandeliers, concerned only with attending to her courtly duties which somehow involved introducing me to a rather young woman who waited outside the door to my new quarters. “This is your handmaiden,” Ms. White said, reaching over to adjust the collar of the poor girl’s shirt. “She is at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” I said, offering the girl a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

I received a small smile in return before the girl bowed her head and held the door wide to allow my entrance with Ms. White. I fully expected time to recover from my journey, but Ms. White was busy flitting about my new quarters while rummaging through the impressive wardrobe filled with an unexpected amount of new clothes. “Your gown is here for tonight, Mage. The King expects to meet with you later; however, I invite you to stay in your quarters until orders for your arrival have been sent.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied smoothly, offering a gentle curtsey as Ms. White passed with a tired sigh. Of course, such mannerisms held no regard in my opinion, but that didn’t mean I wanted to disrespect the ones who cared about them. Otherwise, I would definitely face scrutiny from the ones I was now meant to serve and obey. “She’s quite something,” I remarked to my handmaiden once I was completely sure that Ms. White was gone. “Have you worked here long?”

The girl was eerily silent, head-trained down as she stood in front of me. I recognized the submissive tendency because my mother once practiced similar restraint when she was forced to serve a harsh landowner to repay our debts. “Please don’t take such formalities with me. I really have no need for a handmaiden. You can speak freely in my presence.”

The girl seemed to evaluate my words, appearing doubtful that I was being genuine. “Thank you,” she finally whispered and I sighed into the room. 

“I’d rather us be friends,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be more appropriate?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted shyly. “Your position is higher than mine in the castle.”

“I care nothing for ranks,” I reassured her, stepping closer to the sole window overlooking the castle’s vast grounds. “Is there a good place to walk?” 

The girl startled at my sudden question. “But Ms. White ordered you to stay in your quarters.”

“The day is too beautiful for that,” I said, already set on a new destination. “Come and walk with me for a while.”

“If you must insist,” she nodded with some reluctance. I wondered how often the poor girl took liberties to test the limits of her given orders.

“And do tell me your name,” I said. “I’d prefer to address you that way.”

“Anna,” she offered kindly.

“Anna,” I repeated with conviction. “It’s a beautiful name, and I’ll be sure to call upon you often.”

“You’re too kind,” Anna replied. “I wasn’t sure what to expect from my new charge.”

“Consider me a friend,” I said. “That’s all I want from you, especially during my walks. I enjoy pleasant company.”

Anna blushed at my statement but appeared far more relaxed. In the meantime, I tightened the belt of my sweater to act as an appropriate barrier for the slight chill I detected outside upon my arrival. Ergo, Anna was next to my side in an instant, offering to fetch me a variety of sweaters and jackets which I appropriately declined, looping my arm through hers as we prepared for our trip outside to explore the beautiful castle grounds.

“The gardens are my favorite,” Anna remarked, settling into her designated role as my self-proclaimed guide, leading me around the defined boundaries of the castle borders. “My father once worked tirelessly to ensure the viability of the flowers which bloom every spring.”

“It must be gorgeous then,” I proclaimed. “Since it receives so much care and attention.”

Anna nodded enthusiastically, pulling me along with a generous grip on my forearm. “If you enjoy the outdoors, then I highly suggest taking your walks through the gardens.”

“At your insistence, of course,” I nodded. “Tell me more about the castle. I’d like to know about your life here.”

“It isn’t always easy,” Anna revealed. “There are hardships when the soldiers go away to war. The servants are the first to make great concessions in surrendering the things we take for granted like sugar or cloth. After all, the Royals are the priority of the Kingdom, and we must serve them as dictated.”

“That sounds insufferable,” I groaned. “I do hope war isn’t possible anytime soon.”

“No,” Anna agreed. “The King has made favorable treaties with the other kingdoms. He made special agreements to secure our borders.”

“Special agreements?”

Anna shifted uneasily from next to me. “Perhaps it isn’t my position to gossip about such things.”

I nodded in understanding. “What about the Royals, then? I know the King has many wives and children.”

“The Royals are fine if you obey them,” Anna said. “I don’t intend to speak ill of anyone, but the younger sons can be a handful.”

“But they’re still only children, I presume?”

“For now, but they ought to take their lessons more seriously. The youngest Princes Seungmin and Jeongin are notorious for playing pranks on their tutors.”

“As to be expected from those who feel entitled and privileged,” I remarked, ignoring the small gasp Anna allowed at my comment. “Does the King bother to help raise them?”

“The King insists that he is not responsible.”

“Which explains their mischievous behavior.”

“But they can be such good boys!”

“Yes, I’m sure they’re more than capable, as long as their mothers ensure their well-being without the assistance of the King.”

“The King is quite busy with other affairs.”

I paused next to a rose bush, plucking a random stem from the array of vibrant reds and pinks. “He should never be too busy for his children.”

I lifted the flower to inhale its scent, watching Anna fidget nervously as she glanced around to survey our surroundings. “Life is much different in the castle.”

“I’m gathering that for myself,” I agreed. “How much acreage does the garden cover?”

Anna seemed relieved to change topics, talking in great detail about the tenuous process of ensuring the garden’s elegance. Meanwhile, she continued to escort me further back into the maze of elaborate greenery, pausing every so often to remark on a passing display. It was quite nice, listening to her passionate explanations while taking in the fresh blooming flowers.

I only grew distracted when, up ahead in the distance, I noticed two young women standing together next to a large basket full of what I could only presume to be flowers from the bushes. However, something seemed amiss given the passionate way they spoke to one another, voices carrying over to where Anna and I were slowly approaching. “Girls,” Anna said with a stern tone. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The Queen requested these flowers,” a trepid reply offered. “We’re not sure what she’s expecting.”

“Queen Seo-Yeon frequently demands fresh arrangements,” Anna briefly explained to me before addressing the timid housemaids in front of her. “Let me assist you.”

The girls seemed grateful, offering their words of gratitude to a visibly annoyed Anna who only huffed in response as she snatched a pair of cutters from one of the handmaidens. I stood to the side, tilting my head when I heard something peculiar from the other side of the hedge. “I’ll continue by myself,” I said.

Anna turned around, eyes wide as she shook her head aggressively. “There’s no need for that, Y/N! I’ll only take a moment or two with the girls.”

“Take your time,” I insisted. “Don’t feel obligated to accompany me when it isn’t necessary. Help your friends with the arrangements, and I promise to stay close.”

Anna hesitated, glancing between the sharp cutters in her hand to where I waited patiently. “Okay, but I’ll proceed with urgency.”

I nodded once, sparing no further thought to Anna’s situation before retreating down the maze path, following the noise of what sounded like a potential argument. It definitely required investigation, and there was a part of me that desperately wanted to intervene if necessary since my magic often proved reliable in conflicts. With this in mind, I arrived promptly to witness the fight unfolding right before my very eyes. 

I paused as I took in the scene, anger rising in my chest as I watched a young boy shove an innocent handmaiden to the ground, her fabrics falling from the basket she had been carrying. At this point, my magic was vibrating against my fingertips in response to the shameless act of aggression. I swallowed hard and immediately started for the young boy who only noticed my presence once I was close enough in proximity. “Who are you?” he growled, dark eyes arrogant.

“Apologize,” I said, not bothering to answer his question. 

The younger boy chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“Does it matter?” I returned with equal ardor. “It is impolite under any circumstances to treat a lady with such unkindness.”

“Who are you to talk down to me?” the boy snapped, reaching for the scabbard around his waist to retrieve his sword. The point was aligned with my chest. “Speak again, whore!”

I narrowed my eyes, flexing my fingers to summon a familiar spell. The younger boy froze when the sword vanished from his hand. He gasped, surprise evident across his features as I dared another step closer, summoning more of the impregnable magic to send the boy falling onto his back, air leaving his lungs with a harsh exhale. “Do not call me such names with a loose tongue,” I said, leering down at the boy who only returned my gaze with one of clear shock.

I was completely focused on the issue at hand, concentration unwavering, which probably explained why Anna was able to find me without attracting my attention. “Prince Seungmin,” Anna squealed, coming to a halt next to me. “I’m terribly sorry, your highness. My mistress must have been unaware of your identity.”

“Be it so,” I glowered down at the younger boy. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a prince or not, you will show respect to the women who serve you.”

Seungmin scoffed, a challenge evident in his eyes. “She’s nothing but a peasant girl and I am of Royal blood.”

I narrowed my eyes and Seungmin cried out again when I increased the pressure of my magic at his throat, fingers struggling against the invisible force. “You could use a lesson in manners, young man,” I told him, relinquishing the hold only when his pale skin started to glow in a deathly blue color. “Take this as a push in the right direction,” I said, ignoring Anna’s protests as I walked around his body with every intention of returning inside the castle.

Later on, Anna decided to remain mute on the subject of our encounter with Prince Seungmin. Despite her simple reprimand, Anna refused to elaborate on why I should treat the Prince with respect when he had none to give in return. Nevertheless, the issue was more or less forgotten by the time night had once again darkened the gentle fields of the Clè Kingdom.

“Tonight is a very special occasion,” Anna informed me as she helped me change into my dress, flitting about my new quarters with practiced ease. “The King is expected to name his immediate successor.”

My eyes widened at the announcement. “Is it so? Are there any rumors concerning the new successor?”

Anna considered my question as she pulled a gorgeous evening gown from the wardrobe. “It might be Prince Changbin,” she said at last. “His mother is the King’s favorite wife, and he’s also the third oldest.”

“I see,” I nodded, having no experience with such selection. “What about the oldest Prince?”

“Prince Chan?” Anna scoffed. “That’s doubtful. The King was very displeased with his marriage to a common lady.”

“Was it not pre-arranged?” I asked, mildly astonished because I knew that such formalities were an important tradition in the Royal Family.

“Chan married her secretly,” Anna whispered. “And she’s very ill these days which only makes the situation worse.”

My eyes widened at the revelation. “Is it truly so? I can’t imagine that such actions went unpunished?”

“Of course they didn’t,” Anna nodded. “Chan will have no claim to the throne and his mother was cast aside as the King’s favorite.”

“Such a harsh punishment for someone who had no part of the decision?”

“The King considers it entirely the Queen’s fault. After all, his wives are responsible for ensuring that his sons represent their Kingdom well.”

“I suppose the ways of the Royals are foreign to someone like me,” I admitted. “I can’t understand the justification for such exile, but I dare not question the ones I am meant to protect.”

Anna nodded solemnly. “The King’s children have very strict expectations. Oftentimes, their actions and behaviors reflect back on the Kingdom.”

“Understandable,” I allowed, turning to look in the mirror once Anna proclaimed she had finished my alterations.

“What do you think?” she asked, beaming with a mixture of excitement and relief. She was probably glad to be finished since I made such a big deal out of the tight corset currently suffocating my poor lungs.

I studied my reflection with a bored gaze. The idea of playing dress-up for the Court Royals was unappealing, even if the colors of the gown were rather beautiful. “When am I expected?” I asked instead.

“My mistress informed me to escort you downstairs as soon as possible. Apparently, the King will introduce you formally to the Court before the choosing ceremony is set to commence.”

I offered my reflection a reassuring look before fussing over the lace of my dress sleeves. They were unexpectedly uncomfortably, scratching at the tender skin of my wrists. “Well, I certainly don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Shall we?” Anna asked, opening the door to my quarters wide to invite my immediate exit. I grinned at her meticulous organization, deciding it was better to entertain her desire for timely attendance.

However, I eventually discovered why Anna was so insistent when we found Miss White waiting for us at the entrance to the throne room. I could tell that Miss White was furious at our tardiness, directing a reprimanding look in the direction of my handmaiden before addressing me formally. “You’re late.”

“It’s my fault,” I said with a bow. “Forgive me, ma’am. I insisted on taking extra time to prepare myself for the King.”

Miss White sighed. “I suppose we can make an exception. However, it’s best not to keep his majesty waiting any longer.”

“Of course,” I said, holding my breath when Miss White signaled for the guards to finally open the heavy doors of the throne room.

Once inside, my eyes were immediately attracted to the enormous throne cathedra directed in the center of the room. It was immense in size, and I was shocked when I realized that it was made entirely of gold, decorated in an elegant pattern of swirls and ancient lettering. Unsurprisingly, its current occupant, who was adorned in a gorgeous traditional hanbok, was my new King and he appeared every part of the infamous Royal I had heard about since I was a child in my small village. He was much older now, but his stern features served as a reminder of his immense power; and standing next to him were three beautiful women who wore gentle floral arrangements as delicate headpieces. A clear symbol of their status.

“Your highness,” Miss White greeted the king with a generous bow, encouraging me to do the same with a fierce look in my direction.

“Rise,” the King said, but his tone was not as aggressive as the kind smile he offered me. “Greetings, Mage.”

“Your majesty,” I replied before clearing my throat. “I am honored to have been chosen for this rare honor.”

“I am pleased to accept your generous words,” the King said. “After all, you are the one who is willing to protect my Kingdom.”

I nodded. “It is my duty now, your majesty, and I accept full responsibility.”

“Very well,” the King nodded and he now stood tall as he pointed in the direction of the three women I noticed from before. “Let’s make introductions. These are my wives, Queen Seo-Yeon, Queen Hyun-ae, and Queen Eun-Jung.”

I studied the three Queens carefully, taking in their feminine features, before offering a bow in return. From just a simple glance, I had already discerned that Queen Seo-Yeon was clearly displeased with my presence while the other two shared similar looks of distrust. Of course, this could be considered a trivial matter until I had proven myself worthy in the eyes of these powerful Royals.

“Squire,” the King spoke again, directing his words to a well-dressed man whose arms were crossed over his chest. “Please introduce my sons.”

The squire offered a polite nod in return. “Prepare for the entrance of our Kingdom’s Princes!”

On the opposite side of the room, a new pair of doors opened and two guards stepped inside before retreating to their posts, allowing a neat line of young men to enter with cordial posture and matching hanboks painted with colors of yellow and black. The King’s sons were clearly on their best behavior, acting to their appropriate status as they kneeled before the King. “Rise, my sons,” the King said. “As you are called.” 

The squire cleared his throat. “The first Prince, Chan.”

The elegant young man stepped forward into position. His hair was practically golden beneath the harsh lights of the candles simpering in their stations along the base of a brilliant chandelier. It made him look almost like an angel, blue eyes wide and considerate as he bowed politely to his father who only briefly acknowledged the existence of a son he probably scorned...Speaking of which, I couldn’t help but notice that Chan’s wife was not next to him. In fact, the only women currently present in the room included the King’s three wives, myself, and Miss White.

“The second Prince, Minho.”

The elder son stepped forward promptly and I immediately noticed the way the King’s gaze lingered on the man who bowed before him. Minho was surprisingly youthful given his age, dark brown hair curtaining the softer features of his countenance coupled with dark eyes that remained fixed to the floor before he stood proudly. It reminded me of the way the warriors in Ancient Times would behave when they addressed their superiors, quaint and old-fashioned in their strict natures.

“The third Prince, Changbin.”

I frowned at the arrogant smile adorning the sculpted lips of the King’s son. He was obviously very sure of himself, striking in appearance because of his long, silver hair and the dark eyes that greedily drank in the sight of the empty throne in the background. Changbin definitely stood out, but my initial impression led me to believe that his appearance might not necessarily be as deceitful as I wanted to believe.

“The fourth Prince, Hyunjin.”

A kind soul, timid in nature as he took a hesitant step forward. One hand combed through the dark strands of his silky hair, eyes searching the presence of the King’s wives before he bowed. I realized only a moment later that Hyunjin was the only son who even bothered to acknowledge the other women, which certainly demonstrated the respect he obviously felt for the beautiful Queens.

“The fifth Prince, Jisung.”

His mischievous leaning was obvious in the dramatic way he leaned forward, bowing low at the waist before scrambling into position. It drew a laugh from Queen Hyun-ae who I could only assume must be Prince Jisung’s mother. In any case, it was obvious he didn’t take these proceedings too seriously, outfit slightly disheveled and blonde hair messy in wavy strands.

“The seventh Prince, Seungmin.”

I swallowed hard, remembering my encounter with Prince Seugmin in the gardens with Anna. Despite the way he treated the handmaiden, he now appeared to be the picture of goodness, bowing politely and adjusting the collar of his well-pressed shirt. An outfit likely made for him by the very handmaidens he showed little appreciation for, especially when it came to exerting his influence.

“The eighth Prince, Jeongin.”

He was the picture of childish innocence with a smile that was impossible to ignore. There was a stumble, quickly rectified by the Prince’s emphasized posture, attempting to stand as straight as possible. Still, a chuckle could be heard from Prince Jisung and Queen Seo-Yeon had rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. It was a curious reaction, considering the boy was extremely young and did not possess the same finesse as the rest of his siblings. 

But then again, perhaps most curious of all was the absence of the fourth Prince who was never acknowledged alongside his brothers. It generated many questions; most importantly, where was this mysterious Prince? Was he busy in another Kingdom, or maybe he had been sent away for a special assignment?

“Before the ceremony begins,” the King announced, beckoning me forward. My eyes immediately dropped to Seungmin whose accompanying smirk was positively devilish. “Our new Court Mage arrived this morning.”

From his side, the King’s three wives also bowed again in my direction and I noticed they were also dressed appropriately to fit their status. “It’s a pleasure to serve my Kingdom,” I said with a simple nod, glaring back at Seungmin who seemed to enjoy my attention far too much.

“Y/N is one of the most powerful magic-users in centuries,” the King continued, offering me a gentle smile. “She will make a worthy successor to those who have come before.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” I said, bowing once again to the King who seemed content with my humble expression of gratitude.

The King turned back to address his sons, several of whom visibly faltered under their father’s attention. “Now that my sons are here, I’d like to explain exactly why we’re gathering on this fine evening. You see, currently waiting in the ballroom is a room full of distinguished guests who have gathered in full anticipation for the announcement of the next successor to the throne.”

There was an array of distinctive reactions from the King’s son, but I couldn’t help but notice the way Prince Changbin stood taller with a visible smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. “I want everyone to behave for tonight’s proceedings, regardless of the outcome.”

A monotonous chorus of agreement came from the seven sons who each offered some version of a polite bow. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a strange scuffle from behind the closed doors of the throne room...

The barrier was abruptly disturbed upon the haggard appearance of a royal guard who entered the room without approval. “Your highness!” the distraught voice shouted above the white noise filtering inside the room. The guard was panting hard, helmet askew as he frantically glanced back over his shoulder. “I tried to stop him...” His words trailed off with a wince, the door slamming further back against its hinges at the behest of another unanticipated arrival.

“The invitation was lost in transit, I assume?”

A cold despondency took over the previous jubilance masking the King’s countenance. “Prince Felix,” the King growled.

I shivered at the hostility in the King’s tone, turning my attention to the young man walking rapidly in our direction. Felix carried an immense dark aura, hair a gorgeous burnt orange color that glowed with the fiery temperament masking his words. His eyes were a vivid green that glinted with his obvious disdain for the King I was now meant to serve. But the most charismatic feature was the dark mask obscuring the skin around his left eye, accentuating the sharp profile of his jawline. “Your majesty,” Felix snarled. “I’m offended that I was not called to partake in the choosing ceremony.”

“Why are you here?” the King returned with equal hostility. “You’re meant to serve the Northern Kingdom.”

“Consider it a temporary arrangement,” Felix offered cooly. “How could I possibly miss this occasion?” He turned around, hands behind his back as he offered his seven brothers a shallow bow. “Forgive my late arrival.”

“Only if you’ll tolerate my confusion,” the King practically growled. “I hardly think the Northern Kingdom gave you permission to leave their court.”

“I took special liberties,” Prince Felix replied with a cool smile. “His majesty found no fault in an obedient son wishing to celebrate the crowning of a cherished sibling.”

The King snorted at Prince Felix’s blatant sarcasm. “I suppose there is little I can do now that you have arrived.”

“You could forbid him from attending the ceremony,” Queen Eun-Jung said, glaring at Felix with an intensity that only highlighted just how similar the two opposing forces appeared according to the delicate lines of their features.

“Yes, but we both know that Felix has a way of disobeying orders,” the King replied, regarding his wife with a dismissive shake of his head. 

“How generous, your majesty,” Felix said with a smirk. Thereafter, his gaze suddenly rested on me with suspicion. “Who is this?”

“Our new Court Mage,” the King replied.

“A pleasure,” I managed, refusing to break away from Felix’s gaze.

“The guests are waiting in the ballroom,” the King sighed. “This issue will have to be resolved later.”

I frowned at the King’s willing compliance, seemingly sedulous as he ordered everyone to put on their best behavior for the castle’s guests. Accordingly, the King slowly led the way, followed by his sons and three visibly frazzled Queens who shared matching expressions of bemusement. Felix was the only one who remained out of place, trailing behind everyone else until he paused in the entranceway to look back at me with obvious distrust. Thereupon, despite the King’s command, I still waited until Felix broke our intense stare to proceed with the other Royals.

The ballroom was flooded with elegantly dressed Royals adorned in their neat hanboks and flowery gowns sweeping across the floor with grace and poise. It was almost too glamorous, and I felt slightly out of place considering my status and position in the castle. Instead of socializing, Anna and I lingered around the perimeter of the dance floor, keeping an eye on Felix because I had a strange feeling about the wayward prince.

“What can you tell me about him?” I asked Anna and she quickly followed my gaze.

“Prince Felix was obviously an unexpected surprise,” Anna told me. “He was sent away when he was a very young boy to satisfy our closest neighbors in the North.”

“Why does he wear the mask?” I asked her, ensuring that nobody was overhearing our conversation.

“There are rumors,” Anna said. “But none I can confirm. I’ve heard many stories about Prince Felix and some of them are rather horrible.”

I considered Felix from afar, watching as the young prince took a preference for the shadows of the room, eyes watchful as he considered the other occupants. For a brief moment, our eyes met from across the room and I stood taller, meeting the challenge in his gaze with one of my own. Felix smirked, apparently amused by my actions, turning away to speak to a passing guest who was visibly startled by the young prince’s attention. “He must be very dangerous,” I remarked to Anna. “Everyone seems afraid of him.”

“I’d imagine so,” Anna shivered. “I would certainly never want to cross paths with Prince Felix.”

At that moment, I decided to take it upon myself as the castle’s best line of defense to pay close attention to the movements of Felix. I would study him as he interacted with the other Royals, and watch him closely for any suspicious activity. If he so much as breathed the wrong way, I wouldn’t hesitate to unleash the magic demanding to make itself known from deep inside of me.

“The King is about to make his announcement,” Anna whispered to me, perhaps sensing I was distracted.

I reluctantly pulled my gaze from Felix, finding the King standing at the foot of his thrown with a welcoming smile. “Ladies and Gentleman of the gathered court,” the King began, enchanting the gathered crowd who all broke their conversations to focus on their revered leader. “Tonight, we are celebrating a very special occasion.”

The guests broke into applause, polite and reverent, stopping in synchrony as the King waved his hand. “You’ve been very patient with this old King, and as much as I love serving this kingdom, I must now face the inevitable. As such, I want to name one of my sons before my gathered friends to shadow me from this moment until he wears the crown that we all cherish.” The King paused for a moment, waiting for his eight children to line themselves by order of age before their powerful father. Behind them, the Queens waited patiently, but I easily detected the flicker of anticipation behind their indifference. “I now have the honor of naming my son, Prince Minho, as the successor to my crown!”

There was an audible gasp from the crowd as several of the guests exchanged gestures and expressions of shock at the announcement. Even Prince Minho appeared startled by the revelation, only moving to accept the King’s invitation following a push from his mother, the beautiful Queen Hyun-ae who was beaming with pride.

“Your highness,” Prince Minho replied once he managed to kneel at his father’s feet. “I am at your disposal.”

“My son,” the King smiled, touching his fingers against the side of Prince Minho’s blushing face. “I know you will serve your people well.”

The King’s words seemed to have a positive effect on the other guests who started to cheer and applaud for the chosen successor. The ballroom was filled with the sound and Prince Minho was blushing, hanging his head sheepishly as he experienced the effects of such reverence and adoration. Of course, not everyone shared the same exuberant attitude, and I watched Prince Changbin carefully, noting how the younger boy was refusing to celebrate with everyone else, glaring at Minho with dark foreboding.

[huckleberrysaywhen-blog]

“Pick Your Poison”

Featuring Lucy, Gabe, and Quinn

“What are we gonna do with him?” Muttered a typically excited, happy voice that was now low and rumbly with confusion. American, male, and definitely rather young.

“I do not know. Perhaps we may send him to Lucille.” Said the second voice, softer and much more dainty. It was also male, although donning a much more British-English type of speaking, watered down as if he had spent too much time with the Americans.

The partners were both standing above a man’s unconscious body, splayed out ungracefully by their feet. He seemed to be stretched out like a trapeze artist reaching for his next checkpoint. He was fair-skinned, with a head of long, messy blonde hair, and eyes that were half-closed and glazed over in his unwanted slumber. His clothing was very ripped and it was now difficult to tell what he had been wearing.

The American accent rose up again, more panicked and stressed. “I don’t know, Gabe, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should’ve stayed in the underworld. This dude didn’t haf’ta die.”

Presumably, the Englishman named Gabe turned his head in the shadows to see the American. “Since when have you doubted me, my love? Since when have you become so feeble?” His voice was low and soft, purring the words that rolled off his tongue as smooth as velvet.

The American nervously shifted to face him. They were both drowned out in darkness, but it could hardly be made out that they were in the shadows of an alleyway. The disturbing drips of an unknown liquid rapped quietly on the asphalt below them. The stench of the dumpsters floated around them like a thick woman’s perfume, and the bustle of the city life outside them seemed to fade away when he stared up at Gabe.

“Oh, Gabe, I don’t know, maybe since this guy’s friends tried hunting us. The humans have always been stupid! They’ve never really believed in us, and the ones that did, we killed! But this guy, he-- he had an army, Gabe, he could kill us, he could kill you...” His voice faded toward the end of his sentence, strained and thick with worry. He reached out and set his hand on top of Gabe’s, gripping his fingers tightly.

Their fingers intertwined like vines, knuckles turning white from the heavy hold they had on each other. Gabe’s voice was low and soft, as he took a step closer. “Please, my love, do not fret. They’re nothing different from the other stupid mortals. We can kill them as easily as we did the others. And, before you protest...” He leaned down, nose to nose with the American boy who was much shorter than him. “Although you dislike Lucille, he disposes of bodies quite well.”

Gabe’s partner’s breath caught in his throat at the closeness of his warm companion. In the dim light, he stared up at Gabe’s bright amber eyes, glittering a fierce yellow. He admired the pupils that were slit vertically like a cat’s. He couldn’t resist letting his eyes wander across his partner’s face; perfectly shaped, angular yet soft with curves...

“Quinn, I am flattered, but focus on the matter at hand. Help me tie up this man and get him to Lucille.” Gabe muttered, nose brushing Quinn’s cheek as his head turned away. Although it was a soft touch, hardly there, Quinn’s body was racked with a shudder.

“O-oh, okay.” He stammered out, helplessly turning after Gabe, who had stepped closer to the unconscious body once more. He dumbly stared at Gabe, his mind foggy with matters that would have to be tended to much later.

Gabe arched over, the lights from the nearby market illuminating him for a split second. He was pale-skinned, a muscular form that was rather broad-shouldered and overall large, even as a silhouette. He had a head full of dark, thick hair; presumably a dark brown or black. He had a dainty nose, upturned slightly, and pouty pink lips. Quinn often commented he looked “handcrafted with love.”

“I do suppose we can take him back to the castle--” Gabe began, crouching down over the body and rolling him onto his side, beginning to draw his limbs together to bind them. However, he was cut off by a very heavy German accent, still throaty and hissing as if it were born in the heart of the Fatherland.

“Well, Gabriel! Quinn! How nice to see you! Oh, and I see you have our friend here, the little ​besserwisser​.” The words seemed to uncomfortably shove and rattle against each other as they tumbled past the thin, faint lips of the German that was now standing at the entrance of the alleyway.

Quinn exhaled sharply, swinging his head downward and covering his face. “Oh, kill me now.”

Light from the market street dappled Quinn in such a position, revealing the beauty of the boy. He had skin that was sun-kissed and mottled with freckles absolutely everywhere, and a large beauty mark beside his left eye on his upper cheekbone. His hair was thin and wispy, but silky soft. It, strangely, was black at the roots and faded into shades of gray and silver until it was snow white at the tips. It was long and untamed, slightly curly at the tips.

Amongst his beauty, were the set of peculiar objects amongst his spine. They weren’t completely visible until he turned to aggressively face the German, in an attack stance. He looked like a gray wolf alpha, baring his teeth and bristling his spine to protect his young. A look of sheer vengeance and natural-born hate searing in his breast.

He had wings. A beautiful, large set of wings upon his back. They were extremely large, a wingspan that could easily wrap two average-sized humans comfortably. The light dappled them a mangy, dirty yellow, swamping their beauty, yet it was clear that they were silver on the undersides and solid black on the topsides. The beauties had the traditional upside down “V” at the bone’s bend, and the typical shine of a vulture’s wings.

“Ahh, ah, calm your mutt, why don’t you, Gabriel?” The German laughed, high and maniacal at the sight of Quinn’s glare that was shooting daggers. His fists flexed at his sides, lips peeled back in a disgusted expression. His gray eyes were turned silver, burning hatred, pupils dilated completely.

Gabriel cocked his head upward from where he crouched over the collapsed body. “Well, hallo,​ Lucille.Lendmeahandwiththisbody,andwecansettleyourdifferencesatthecastle, yes?” He offered, as he slid his hands underneath the body’s armpits. Gabe heaved upward as if carrying a toddler, holding it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lucille was well-hidden in the shadows of the alleyway entrance, about twenty paces away from the boys. However, it was undeniably him, due to the revealing accent and schoolgirl giggle that Quinn despised.

“Slut bastard.” Quinn spat, hissing like a feline. If he were, his spine would be bristling, tail puffed completely. Instead, his wings kept twitching and rustling, fingers flexing. He was visibly itching to attack Lucille.

“Oh, relax, ​der Schatz,​ you just go back to being Gabriel’s lapdog. Do not be jealous of what you will never be.” Lucille cackled, head tipping back slightly. His eyes flashed a glint in the darkness, a wisp of scarlet red.

Quinn stepped forward, aggressively. “Oh, you take that back, Lucy, you bastard--” He fully intended to bash the German’s perfect face into a pulp.

But something stopped him. He hesitated, looking down to see Gabe’s free arm pressed against his chest.

“No.” Was all Gabriel said, his eyes slowly settling on Quinn’s face. They were burning with the authoritative power of a king. Well, Gabriel was a king. And although lovers, Quinn was his immortal servant nonetheless.

Quinn’s head ducked. He backed away a few paces, stumbling over his own feet. His silver gaze was averted away, hands coming to touch his throat and chest, nervously. He acted like that of a submissive dog, or wolf; even licking his lips to silently beg for forgiveness. He cringed at the sound of Gabriel’s boots hitting the asphalt in rhythm, beginning to walk away.

Lucille thought this was extremely funny. Quinn, however, did not, but could not come to his senses to beat some sense into the German for disrespecting him with laughter.

“Let’s go, boys.” Gabe purred, low and commanding. He began to walk out of the alley with the body limply swinging over his shoulder, one heavy arm wrapped around it’s hips to secure it to his person.

Quinn and Lucille exchanged a glance before following after. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing.

After a struggle of getting back to the hell castle in the underworld with an added body, the boys were sitting in the second tea room, sharing a kettle of mint tea. The castle was extravagant; three whole stories. It belonged entirely to Gabriel and Quinn, and rarely Lucille spent an evening.

The second tea room was small; hosting a red velvet sofa with golden embroideries and a golden frame, very Victorian. It had a matching armchair that Lucille lazed across, and a small Italian coffee table that was solid glass, including the legs. The walls were littered with old photos of people; some including Gabriel, some including a white-haired man, some including a large creature with terrifying red eyes and large goat horns protruding from his forehead. Mysterious folk.

Amongst the photographs, there was red-and-gold wallpaper, as well as many bookshelves pressed against the walls. Instead of containing books, they seemed to contain handmade ledgers, leatherback mostly, with scribbled, messy labels on the spines. A large glass and marble chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the room with gold.

Gabriel delicately handled the china, that was white with navy blue patterns and trim, pouring more steaming mint tea into Quinn’s teacup. Quinn wasn’t big on tea at all, he’d rather down a bottle of Kentucky bourbon, but Gabe forced his lover to learn tea manners.

“Thank you, again, Lucille, for all the help.” Gabe said, sincerely. His amber gaze flicked up to the German, briefly. He set down the china teapot beside the larger hot water kettle in case they wanted more. His palms set on his trousers, smoothing the wrinkles in the thighs.

Gabriel dressed quite handsomely; typically in three-piece suits, but at the least, velvet black trousers and a white French dress shirt, tucked in. On this particular occasion, he donned a black three-piece with a white undershirt and a dark red bowtie nestled under his chin. It had been difficult to see, in the dark alleyway, but was now beautifully illuminated.

Lucille flashed a grin. He, like Gabriel, dressed handsomely, and was just as beautiful. He had a head full of raven-black hair, long and untamed in his face. It framed his eyes that were a bright scarlet, with flecks of remaining brown in the centre near his dilated pupil. He had a constellation of freckles draping his nose and high, protruding cheekbones; pale, soft skin clinging to dainty bones and the curves of his feminine body. His height to weight ratio was off; he was very slender and thin, narrow-bodied and the smallest of the trio, as well as the shortest.

Typically, Lucy was found wearing the same outfit every day. It was a priest’s jacket that had been modified to drape floor-length, similar to a trench coat, but it was split in the front and back up to the waist like a riding duster. It was solid black, and buttoned up completely. Underneath his modified coat, he had a pair of black shorts that were shaped like women’s underwear. He also had fishnet stockings that gartered to the shorts. His boots were black and leather, settling just above his knee, and showing off a four-inch heel.

As well as his promiscuous outfit, Lucy had a range of jewelry. Black earrings draping across his cartilage and two black studs in his earlobes, as well as a silver chain around his neck that had a sterling silver charm of an upside down cross. Usually, he wore a scarlet neckerchief, as well as a white knit scarf around his neck.

Not to mention, the German painted his long, claw-like nails black, and often wore a cat-eye liner above his slitted, lazy red eyes.

Gabriel called him his “little incubus.” It wasn’t far off from what Lucille was.

In hilarious contrast, Quinn usually wore hoodies and jeans. Casual, and human-like. Although, he did have to cut holes in the shoulders of the hoodies and t-shirts so he could fit his wings through.

“Well, I believe we should go check on our friend, ​ja?​ ” Lucille said, standing up from where he’d been prowling on his armchair like a male lion. He dusted his coat off, re-wrapping his scarf around his neck.

Quinn eagerly set down his teacup. Despite hating Lucille and his ideas, he’d do about anything to avoid having tea time. “Yeah, I think so. Who is this bastard, again?” Quinn asked, slowly standing up and raising his arms above his head to stretch. His wings twitched in response to the muscles flexing.

Gabriel nudged all the china closer together for easy cleanup later. He rose to his feet as well, staring down at his subjects.

“He is a half breed like you, my dear. However, he is a mix between demon and human. Access to the underworld, yes, but still suffers a few side-effects. Worse than you, though.” Gabe said, as he snaked his left arm around Quinn’s waist. His warm palm settled on his hip, their sides flush together.

Quinn sheepishly nosed into his lover’s shoulder, willingly pressing against him.

Lucille snorted a high-pitched giggle. “Ah, thank god we don’t have another fallen angel on our hands. I think ​der unser Freund hier​ is enough.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. His eyes always narrowed before he was about to speak something vile, or eat someone alive. “Shut up with the foreign language, Lucy. You know I can understand German, right? And your stupid Latin, and French, and Greek... The list goes on. You’re just a slutty little asshole who thinks he’s great, just ‘cause he managed to get in cahoots with the king of hell. Now, in my opinion--”

Quinn would have kept going, but Gabriel squeezed his hip and dug his nails into his side, causing the wretch to yelp in pain and grip his wrist.

Lucille didn’t seem all that hurt, just snickering his amusement at Quinn’s punishment. “Let’s go see the half breed then, ​Liebling​.” He purred, in that same low, spine-quivering tone of voice Gabriel used. His harsh, throaty accent made it much less attractive, but nonetheless caught the fallen angel’s attention.

Lucy waved his arm, starting to stalk out of the second tea room toward a staircase leading to the basement. They were on the first floor, with one above them; and the holding cells below them.

Lucy trotted down the concrete steps, heels clicking loudly. Gabriel and Quinn followed after, still glued to each other’s hips, padding much more quietly downward.

The underground holding cells contained three metal bar cells on each side of the hallway, with a total of six open slots. There was a large metal door at the end of the hallway, with a variety of locks on it, for dangerous animals that needed to be held. The walls were a mix of concrete, diorite, and a solid form of mercury. Very difficult to escape from. The metal bars were, of course, a mix of various metals and silver, to ward off creatures that were weak to it. It was dim and musky, and smelled strongly of sweat and blood.

Each cell contained a small bed. And that was about it. Only one of the cells was occupied; by the half breed they had captured earlier. And boy, was he pissed. He was awake, and raging.

His claws had dug into the walls, trying to rip holes in them; adding to pre-existing claw marks. His head swung around, staring with sheer hatred at the trio that stepped down the stairs. His voice rose in a high-pitched screech, like that of a hawk or eagle. It was deafening, and made Quinn flinch and cover his much more sensitive ears.

Lucille and Gabriel stared back, unfazed. Gabriel snickered quietly, looking downward and shaking his head. “My, oh my, you poor creature.” He said, softly. Gabe stepped closer to the cell, peering through the bars with his hands in his pockets. His shadow enveloped the half breed completely. What a size difference.

“I’d love to cut you into a fillet and feed you to the hellhounds.” He said, lips twitching up slightly at the corner. His eyes bore into the half breed with malicious thoughts, staring right through him.

The creature in the cell quivered slightly, jerking his blue gaze away. Instead, he glared at Lucille, baring his teeth like a dog.

Lucy giggled, high and insane. He stepped beside Gabriel, meeting the fearless blue gaze with authority. “Oh, Gabriel, I’d like to shove objects down his throat until he suffocates!”

He cried out a little with joy at the thought, flashing his insane grin. His white teeth glinted in the dim light, sharp canines whispering “we want your flesh” to the half breed.

Quinn crept closer to Gabe, shaking his head to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. “I’d like to beat the shit outta him, ‘till he’s begging for mercy, and then I wanna cut out that stupid tongue’a his.” The American accent and slang really came flowing out of Quinn during that sentence, with a faint drawl to his tongue-tip.

Gabriel laughed slightly, quietly. A rare sound. He peered down at the now intimidated prisoner, flashing a smile with rows of shark-like teeth, all triangular and pointed. With promise in his voice, he murmured, “Pick your poison.”

[kingaven-blog]

Hiden

Vier has been keeping his clan mates in the dark for a long time and things are starting to fall apart. It’s time for a little truth. 

Pre-Warning: as this story is told through the mind of Aties there will be swearing.

Warning: There is also a fair amount of violence and a speckling of blood so warning for that too.

  Early-evening light streamed in through the glassless window that Aties was sitting by. The room was filled with the brilliant, bright, colors of the sun spreading itself like butter across the wooden fixtures in the room while he carved a metal finger-tip through the soft wood of the table he sat at. Eyes scowering the beautifully-written contents of the arcane information he had been given. 

           “Aties.” a familiar voice called him out of his studies, causing him to meet eyes with an old merc friend. Decimus, scars on display as they always were. Blind eyes looking through him, not at him. It was something he had became use to during their time together.

          “Decimus, do you-?” Aties’s eyes landed on the dragon behind his good friend. Vier, the leader of the group and one of the only dragons who knew why he was here. 

                 “I am sorry to break your focus, Commander, but I feel there is something important that must be said. If you would-?” Vier’s regal voice led the conversation as it always did, bowing and gesturing towards the door in a civil way of saying ‘follow me, you fuck.’ Aties nodded shortly, getting up and lightly tapping a hand on Decimus’s shoulder as he moved to follow the clan leader. Subtly telling the blind-dragon that they were moving, only due to habit though.

Trying to not out-pace the smaller being was a little hard, even when Vier was speed-walking with purpose he was still short. So, Aties had to keep at an odd pace of something inbetween leisurely stroll and ‘i’m being followed look casual.’ Vier didn’t seem to notice, though. Or maybe he didn’t care. Decimus didn’t seem to be having that problem, either, so maybe it was just him.

     “So, when you gonna tell me what the fuck is happening, boss?” Vier gave him a short side-glace as the curse left his mouth. 

            “When we get there.” this guy was always like this. Aties couldn’t help but throwing at glance at Decimus who seemed to be scowling at the lack of transparency the king had. It didn’t take long to find out where ‘there’ was though, as the angry accusing started to flare up. Aties narrowed his eyes, listening keenly to the voices, he knew them. Ryln, that female guardian that he worked with the most, and Tan’waar... he didn’t know that one so well. Stepping out into the daylight, Aties put a hand over his eyes as everything came into focus. 

 Two guardians dangerously close to getting in a physical fight, a skydancer of green, an armored pearlcatcher, Virgil’s son, and Drankas were all doing their best to break the two apart, but it did little good. The rest of the clan seemed to be watching from a safe distance.

     “What got those two so heated?” Aties asked, gesturing vaguely at the group.

        “Let’s just say that is part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.” Vier responded, evasive as always, as he stalked up to the pair.

            “How could you possibly know what’s best? You couldn’t even keep your sorry ass safe, I have no reason to trust you with him!” Ryln spat crossly, ignoring the soothing words from Mediator-boy and Enforcer trying to hold her back. 

                  “Atleast I’m not having him give information to the enemy!” Tan’waar responded with equal venom, taking a threatening step forward as he knocked Drankas onto his ass with an aggressive yank of his arm. Aties couldn’t help but let out an aggravated growl at the whole situation, moving to follow Vier before Decimus grabbed the edge of his gauntlet.

        “You getting mad will not help the situation. Let Vier handle it.” words of wisdom from the blind guy, great. But, he was right. Aties took a small step back to watch how the good king would solve this. 

Vier shoved himself in between the two groups, accidentally making Alastair fall to the ground next to Drankas, but successfully putting distance between the two guardians. 

                “Silence.” like he had to say it, the two had already fell silent when he appeared. Tan’waar was now baring a bloody nose from the explosive way Vier had entered the fray, aswell. Painting the dusty ground a scarlet tone as he huffed. 

                         “If you two could be wise enough to play nice and follow me that would be appreciated.” despite Vier speaking in his normal manner, his tone had taken a challenging air. Filling the clearing with power and an intense dare of ‘try it again, you filth.’ Aties watched at Tan’waar met Vier’s ice gaze, quietly vying for power, before the two guardians took a step away from the imperial. Submission. 

                “Lovely. Follow me.” Vier spoke shortly, returning to Aties and Decimus with a certain air of intimidation following him. The commander let out an awed whistle. 

              “Nicely done, boss.” he commented, catching a short glance from the imperial as they were all led back into the long building to find out where Vier was taking them. Aties waited where he was, watching Ryln offer a handkerchief to the bloody-nosed guardian as they entered the building. A mixture of aggravation and shame on both of their features. Only once he was the last one outside did he follow the group, to keep on eye on the two hot-headed jackasses. 

       Slowly, as the went through the long halls that made up the King’s clan, Aties found himself getting lost. He had never been to this part of the complex building. Hell, he didn’t even know it existed. So, the commander grabbed Decimus by the edge of is scarf, causing the non-guardian to slow to walk beside him.

            “You ever been here before?” Aties asked softly, hand still tightly wrapped around a fistful of beige fabric. Decimus remained silent for several long moments as they walked, almost so long that Aties thought he was not going to respond at all.

                   “No. I have not been here before. Considering how dusty this wing is... I’d say most of the clan hasn’t.” the scared being responded, blindly glancing around the hall.

                      “Fuckin’, of course not, by the Earthshaker I swear-.... Thanks Deci.” the merc nodded numbly, seeming to consider something as they entered some larger room. Aties glanced around, eyes immediately being drawn to a bright-pink color to his immediate left. Another guardian, one wearing a bright pink sweater, bows, and decked in full body armor. He was also, surprisingly, tall. Like, really tall. And settled on the edge of a desk, his foot propped up to show off the steal-edge spike that was at his toe. 

           “...... what happened to Tan’waar?” the black-haired male asked, tapping his foot as he eyed the group with suspicion, despite his air of indifference. 

                  “He, um, got put in his place.” Ryln explained, causing the guardian to sigh.

             “Ryln, you can’t just go around punching people cause you feel like it, especially not Tan-”

            “Hey, it wasn’t me!” 

                “Than who-?” the new guardian seemed to notice the look on Tan’waar’s face, eyes landing on Vier. A confused look crossing his features.

            “Somb’re, we need in. Is he here?” This ‘Somb’re’ nodded slowly, gracefully stepping off the desk and brushing himself-  Earthshaker, he was REALLY fucking tall why the actual fuck was he wearing that girly-ass sweater? Somb’re ran a hand through his hair as he walked towards a large double-door and opened one of them.

                    “He is.” the tall guardian responded, finally, using his hand to push his hair out of his face. “Be nice.” Vier nodded deeply, striding across the room and through the door without hesitation. Ryln followed him and Decimus after her. Aties turned to look at Tan’waar, slightly surprised when a pair of intense eyes glowered at him in return. 

            “Be nice.” Aties could hear Somb’re repeat in a pointed manner, causing his fellow guardian to growl and stalk into the other room. 

                  “You too, sir.” the pink guardian pressed, still holding open the door. Aties frowned lightly before doing as told and entering the room.

Striking. The sound of fresh water spilling and pooling and rippling was a refreshing thing to hear in the yellow arid place. Old, cracked, ruined statues were placed all around in a display of lost arts. Lovely. Too bad there weren’t any lost-battle technique books in this room, that would be something that was actually useful instead of just easy on the eyes. Aties lifted his gaze, eyes falling onto the long piece of shear cloth that acted as a roof. Filtering the yellow sunlight and turning it a pale tan. Why did no one come here?

        The imperial looked back at the group he was in, Ryln had made her way several feet away from the rest of them and was looking around. For what, he did not know. 

   “Ryln!” an accented chirp broke the normal beauty as a blue-sweatered imperial jumped the dark-toned guardian. He was short. REALLY short. Like, so short that he made Vier look tall in comparison. Ryln hugged the small imperial, stooping slightly to touch foreheads with her charge, before turning back to them. Arms wrapped, protectively, around this imperial’s shoulders as her hands covered his eyes. 

              “Are you sure about this, Vier?” the imperial was starting to slip his hands under her’s, unhappy with being blinded as any adult would be... at least, Aties was pretty sure he was an adult.

                     “I am. Trust me with this as you have before, Ryln.” all the guardians seemed tense. Unreasonably so. As Ryln removed her hands from his eyes and released him from her grip- WAIT. Aties was in motion before he knew what he was doing, marching up to this arcane trash in a blind haze of purpose. Not even noticing as Decimus tried to grab him, or when all three of the guardians began to close in in a protective manner. 

             “An arcane.” He hissed in a tone louder than he thought he could do, feeling his eyes heat with their dragonic-light in his rage.

         “What is an arcane doing here?” The stubborn piece of garbage did not back down from his gaze, choosing to meet them with a fierce spite than only an arcane could ever pull off.

           “Aties.” Decimus’s voice swam in and out of focus as his fellow merc grabbed the edge of his armor and, forcibly pulled him back, causing the anger-blinded dragon to turn on him.

                 “Don’t you ‘Aties’ me, you know what I know! You were there! You saw it happen, how aren’t you as fucking pissed as I am right now?!” the commander turned on his friend, spitting hate at the only dragon in the clan that actually knew him. 

                   “Because I know that, in war, every side is a monster. Arcance’s are no different, no worse, no better. We were all monsters, you and me both.” Decimus’s cool attitude and wise-words weren’t what Aties wanted right then. He was steamed. Pissed. His blood was practically boiling in his veins and Decimus was just staring through him with that cold indifference! Before he knew what he was doing his hand was wrapped around the edge of the golden collar Decimus wore, causing indentions where the metal forced skin to giveway. Wait, why was it Decimus that he had lashed out at? He had been made at this arcane being here, not at Decimus. But, through the hatred clouds he could not get his body to listen to him. He was frozen. 

                “Hey! Let him go!” before he could respond, the tiny monster of an imperial had stabbed a quill into the place where his gauntlet met his armor-sleeve. The weak point in his armor at the inside of his elbow. Aties couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped him as he recoiled, stepping back and ripping the feather-pen out of his arm as eyes went up to glare at the Arcane. He was standing protectively in front of Decimus, and around him the other guardians had gathered. Only then did Vier step in, blind-siding Aties by grabbing his scarf and pulling him down to his height. Forcing eye contact between two pissed-off dragons.

        “You done throwing your hissyfit so I can explain now, Commander?” the king hissed, that same air of power filling the room as ice cold eyes burned into Aties’s brown ones. No, not power, of threat, he was threatening like staring an emporer in the face. Several, long, moments passed as everyone held their breath, but in the end Aties ended up looking away. Submitting. Stepping back once Vier released him and staring to the side. 

             “Good. Everyone sit down.” An outright order, everyone did as demanded, still tense from the first interaction between the commander and arcanist. 

            “Good. Now, let’s see.... Decimus, are you okay?”

       “Peachy.” the not-guardian deadpanned, while this didn’t actually mean good it meant he wasn’t dying so that seemed enough for Vier. 

             “Lovely. Now, Commander, you are one of the best tactical strategists I have ever met. Intensely knowledgeable of faction-based fighting techniques and how to counter them, to be fair you are even better at battle strategy than my fellow council member: Virgil. But, you are a hateful dragon-” Aties cracked his fingers, trying to release the tension in his shoulders.

         “-a backwards thinking, stick in the mud, bitter person who can not let go of the past. Because of this, I have been having trouble explaining your presence to the other councilors. They don’t trust you, which is understandable considering what you just did.” an short stab of guilt as he glanced at Decimus, who was staring at the ground rubbing the new bruise on his neck. 

         “From here until otherwise stated you are on probation. You are stripped of rank, removed from duty, and your tasks will be taken care of by someone else until I see you fit to return to them or make you leave.” The commander-.... the imperial looked up in shock at Vier.    

               “What, you’re punishing me?!” he exclaimed.

          “I’m not the one who was hiding arcanes!”

                 “See, that is the problem, Aties. Your hatred of arcane dragons is ill-placed and shows your inability to move on. Only once you leave behind this anti-flight mindset will I give you back your rank.” he scowled, glaring across the group at the arcane dragon. 

                  “Now, Ma’caire. I do apologize for the way this situation went down. You handled it well. I was hoping you would be willing to continue helping us, and Aties, with studying battle strategies from the past. Are you willing, despite what just happened?” this ‘Ma’caire’ didn’t hesitate, probably because he’s like every empty-headed yes-man arcane. 

             “I have a passion for learning these things, so as long as I can comprehend what is on the page then you have my assistance.” an audible sigh left Tan’waar at this. 

              “Perfect. Thank you, Ma’caire. Any, requests for punishment for Aties?” What!? Letting a filthy arcane come up with a punishment even after probation?! He was going to be tortured and thrown off the nearest cliff if this trash saw it’s way!

        “Hm, sense you are offering... just one.” 

((spoiler alert. It’s a sweater. lolol.))