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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months

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| When One Possesses A Thing | Aemond/Married!Reader

Summary: She arrives to the Red Keep immensely dissatisfied with her marriage. Aemond proposes an alternative | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: mentions of being in an unhappy marriage, universe canon aversion of homosexuality, mentions of homosexuality being a sin, mentions of fertility, threats of death, voyeurism, breeding kink, size kink if you squint really hard, p in v sex

@ewanmitchellcrumbs Ty for reading this through first 😭

When Aemond was informed by his mother of the arrival of one Lord from the Riverlands, of whose name he could not even be bothered to remember, he’d merely turned his head away, resisting a shrug of his shoulders and expressing immense disinterest.

That was until, Aemond clapped eyes on his Lady wife.

He observed as she often held back behind her husband, hands clasped at the front, her fingers glimmering with golden rings and wrists with intricate bracelets, as well as one particular necklace that hung daringly around her neck, the pendant lingering above the cut of her dress with the shadow of her cleavage beneath.

They had, of course, arrived in celebration of King Viserys’ upcoming nameday. Not an event Aemond could say for himself that he would enjoy with any degree of certainty. He knew Aegon would find any excuse to drown himself in his cups and leer at the accompanying wives of the elder Lords, and that Helaena would simply attend, but be preoccupied with her thoughts and imagination as she so often was.

The Lord himself was tall, but slender, as if he had not broadened from age. Aemond observed that he seemed sprightly but aloof. Several times he forgot to make the proper pleasantries and introduce his own wife. Her gentle, warm face did not flounder with embarrassment, but she simply smiled, curtsied and introduced herself with a smooth, honey-like voice.

Her husband gave her a nod of the head, his mouth set into a frown as he whispered something to her as his companion threw his arm around the Lord and dragged him off to the closest place they could find wine.

The look on her face made it seem like this was a regular occurrence. Her husband snubbing her in favour of spending time with his male friends, not really even bothering to ask what she would do to occupy herself in a new, strange environment.

She slipped away like a whisper, a cloud of silks billowing behind her as she made for any spot within the Red Keep that might entertain her. Alone.

Several laps through the decorated hallways, brushes through the gardens and wanderings past the Library later, she soon found herself face to face with the skull of a dragon, hung high above a table thick with candle wax, hardened from the years of merely replacing them. The stench of tallow was overwhelmed somewhat by the dampness of the cavernous space, and the smoking incense placed at each corner of the table.

The skull was enormous. Bigger than any animal she had ever seen on land. Those big sockets where its eyes used to be staring down at her, sucking her into its world of rich histories and conquerors.

“My Lady”

The echo of Aemond’s voice did not make her jump, but it did steal her attention, her waves rolling over her shoulder as she turned to see the source.

He could not help but marvel at her grace and the way her dress, so traditionally worn, happened to hang off her body in the most tempting of ways, emphasising her womanly curves. Though he had one eye, he himself could not miss the pressing of her breasts against the front of her corseted garment.

“My Prince” she greeted in the same manner of tone as him, her lips turning upwards almost indistinctively as she gave a polite curtsy. He gave her a small bow back, intrigued.

He took wide, calculated strides towards her into the candlelight. And she watched as his form came out of the darkness, his silver Targaryen hair illuminated by the warmth around them.

“Do you know his name?” he asked, in a manner that insisted he might have been testing the young woman.

“Of course” she answered calmly, “Balerion. Ridden by Aegon the Conqueror, was he not?”

Aemond bowed his head, one eyebrow twitching, as if he had not actually expected her to know. This Riverland bound beauty was a surprise at every turn. He did not respond, feeling his expression was enough.

And it seemed she understood, as she smiled.

“I am no historian, my Prince. But it is difficult to feign ignorance to the victories that have been written of Targaryens”

He bit back a grin. Feeling his ego inflate somewhat.

“So you read then, my Lady?”

She cocked her head, “You seem surprised”

“Not surprised” he answered immediately, standing a good distance from her, “Merely intrigued”

He watched with further interest how her eyes were level with his chest, and how they dragged from the dragon-embellished doublet, over his neck, and to his gaze again.

“I do indeed enjoy reading” she mused, as if the suggestion she did not would have offended her.

“Only history?”

“Of all genres” she adds, with a knowing smile, “All such subjects are of interest to me”

They fell into comfortable silence, listening to the wafting of the candle flames whipping in the soft breeze.

Her shoes clicked in a satisfying way as she turned back to the great skull.

“The King rode the Black Dread, did he not?”

Aemond fought back the urge to kiss his teeth, feeling as if at this moment, as he was lusting for the woman stood beside him, how much he did not want to think about his father.

“He did”

She turned to him, perhaps recognising the lack of affection in his reply.

“I suppose it is of no great merit to you, my Prince. As you claimed Vhagar after all”

“Vhagar is my pride” he answered, feeling warmth inside him as she recognised his efforts, one which cost him his eye.

“As all dragons should be to Targaryens” she offered, “she is certainly a marvel. My Lord husband can barely tame a horse”

He laughed through his nose at her quip. Being able to envision the moment exactly as she described it.

“And pray tell, how long have you been wed, my Lady?”

He almost regretted asking, seeing how her smile suddenly disappeared from her face. Like the sun had gone behind a cloud. She looked down, preoccupied with smoothing down her dress.

“Several years now”

“And no children?” he adds, watching the way she bites her lip, thinking he cannot see it.

“My husband does not enjoy the act of procreation”

His head tips at her reply. Perhaps not having expected her to be so honest.

“And what does your husband enjoy doing?”

Sighing distantly, her eyes ticked over to him, “Riding”, she replies simply.

His lips part to reply, and yet he does not have time to interject.

“Other men at least”

Silence falls between them at the weight of what she’s said.

"A fact he conveniently kept hidden from me until marriage, I may add".

For a moment he is unsure what to say, as she stands, a sad, resigned smile on her face, waiting for him to reply.

“I see”

Absentmindedly, she wanders along the table, her hand running over the hardened wax.

"I care not of his affections for men. I only care that he does not conjure up the respect for me as he does his bedfellows" she sighs, “though as I am sure you understand, my Prince. As his wife, I must support him”.

“Even if what he does is a sin?”

It’s like she had expected that question. Something akin to a grimace appearing, “Even that”.

She sighs, “I must bear the brunt of the rumours surrounding my fertility and commitment to my marriage. Protect myself, where my husband cannot”.

“He does not protect you?”

“If we are speaking plainly, my husband rarely acknowledges my existence” she answers, her fingers playing nervously with one another, “more a hindrance than say, a life partner”.

“Then, if I might be so bold to say, you are doing more of your own duty than he is. The scales are unbalanced, so to speak”.

Her head raises to look at him, something playful lighting up her features, “And what is a husband’s duty?”.

“To protect his wife, of course”

She pauses. Knowing she cannot disagree to that.

In any normal marriage, that is exactly what she would expect.

“And a wife’s is to provide him with children”

“That is no fault of yours, if you are to be believed” he raises an eyebrow. Attempting despite his nature, to be somewhat comforting.

She smiles again, laughing half-heartedly, her hand slipping from the table to wander about the room, trying to free herself from the stifling feeling of being close to him.

He remembered reading a book of loose morals, which at the time he recalled feeling indifferent towards, about the late Lady Coryanne Wilde, detailing her multiple escapades of lovers, indulging in the desires which had long been suppressed by women before and after her.

“And you do not seek pleasure elsewhere?” he asked, hoping the suggestion would not offend her. But if he had studied her well enough in this short time he’d known her, he was confident it would not.

She smiled, her head lowered to the candles on the opposite side of her table. Her face illuminated warmly.

“Gossip is a ghastly thing” she stated, “Once a small fire is started then my dishonourable actions only fan the flames. I do not wish to be the subject of such disapproval, as I already am in my Lord’s eyes. And perhaps the Gods too”

“And yet, your husband has a lover”

Not a question, and her gaze averted at the tone of the statement.

“His advisor. And childhood companion” she nods.

“In my view, it is only fair that he allow you to seek one”

“Perhaps that is where you are mistaken, my Prince. For I am the one with the womb” she responded, “therefore, I must bear the humiliation along with it”.

Her gaze longingly lowered, and it did not go amiss that it happened to graze over his tall, broad form.

"In any case, it does not matter. Any children we would have had would be his, not mine"

That was true as well, Aemond mused.

"His heirs. His future.

"By refusing to allow me to give him children, he is only doing more damage to his own house. 'Tis of no consequence to me".

She had done one lap of the large, candle adorned table.

"You seem perfectly resigned to your fate, my Lady"

She hums. Standing before him, his eye raked over her, yearning for her, having had such an intelligent conversation with her.

"Perhaps I am. My husband is young. Barely half a decade older than I" she says, "it stands to reason, I may be tied to him for quite some time".

Aemond cannot argue with that, try as he might.

Everything she has said so far, has been sensible.

So he nods, "now, that is a sad thought" he muses.

It was only then either of them had realised how quiet their conversation had become, and how low his voice was when he spoke to her. It was difficult to deny how close they were to one another, in a manner most unbecoming of a single man and a married woman.

And yet neither of them moved away.

It was unfortunate, her situation. And though he knew it might have been wrong of her to simply sit idly by, while her husband amused himself with his male lover, he could not find it in himself to reproach her.

“Am I not how you envisaged, my Prince?”

He fought the urge to chuckle, “Not in the slightest”.

She bit her lip, to fight back a smile, realising perhaps she was doing so too much in his presence.

“That I was an intemperate wife, refusing to perform my duties? That I am barren, and incapable of giving him heirs?”

He felt his hands form fists behind him.

“I would not think such things”

“Hm” her eyes once again went over him in a way that made him go all warm, “You are not how I envisaged, either”.

“How so, my Lady?” Aemond asked, amused that she had formed her own opinion before properly meeting as well.

"Many at court say you are tempestuous. Stubborn. Proud" she says, "and you very well may be all of those things. All pejorative descriptors. And yet…there is something else".

He wanted to laugh at that. Of course the other Ladies at Court had opinions of him that were unsavoury, given his common disposition.

"I can be all those things, it is true" Aemond replies, "above all those, some say I am too particular. That I require too much in a person to respect them".

She tipped her chin up, meeting his gaze head on, but also emboldened by what she perceived was an intimate conversation.

“And what is it you require?”

He licked his teeth, smiling, watching her eyes as she stares at the way his lips turned upwards. As if entranced.

“A wit” he states, “a passion” he purrs.

The tone does not go unnoticed. Aemond watches with satisfaction as she swallows thickly, now seemingly uncomfortable standing still on the spot. Her breasts pressed repeatedly and steadily against the corset of her dress as her breathing picked up.

“"And is that what you desire? Someone to match your wit? Your passion?"

All the air was thick in the room as he took one careful step forward, leaning over her, now able to see more of the shadow of her cleavage beneath the silks. Her cheeks bloomed with colour, but she dare not move off her spot.

“Perhaps”.

He could hear her breath. Like he was tuned to it already. The humming of her blood beneath her flesh felt invigorating, and for one brief moment, Aemond allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to sink his teeth into her, to taste her. To try and sense who she really was, what her desires were.

She shivered at his warm breath at the side of her face.

“"I could protect you, my lady" he whispers, blinking longingly, voice like the purr of a cat, "your husband cannot".

"If you were mine, you'd not want for desire. Nor affection. I would keep you round with child, you’d be such a beautiful mother with my heir inside you”.

She gasps at the blatancy of it, for they had for several moments danced around such a subject, in favour of decorum and manners. And now her chest rose and fall steadily with every utterance, "I am a married woman-"

"To a man who does give a shit about duty. About you" he counters, “nor your desires”.

“‘Tis not my husband’s nocturnal activities that vex me, my Prince, it is his lack of respec-”

"I would have you. Respect you. Ravage you"

For a moment, her mouth slams shut, fearing that her reaction to his flagrant desire for her would expose her.

“A good gentleman. A good man…rises above such mortal things as lust".

There she goes again, trying to be the ever-good wife to her husband, who even now, perhaps does not even know her true whereabouts.

"Then perhaps I am not a good man" he replies, "and perhaps it is not merely lust".

"What then?" she asks quickly.

There is a beat. Aemond wets his lips, watching as she trembles at his proximity. Each breath wafting the curls either side of her face.

“Intrigue”.

She swallows again, attempting to brush off the heavy tension with a half-laugh, “I'm afraid intrigue does not free me of my situation, my Prince".

Aemond hums, righting himself to full height, not stepping away from her, but rather using his size to his advantage by having her crane her neck to meet gazes. With a simple shuffle of his boots, he manages to manoeuvre her body without touching her, doing exactly as he planned and forcing her own feet to stagger backwards.

"Then how unfortunate it would be, for a terrible accident to befall your husband".

Her wide eyes caught the light of the candles as her back met the adorned table.

He did not stop coming towards her.

Not until he was so close, that one exhale, and he would be pressed flush.

Her cheeks bloomed once more for him.

Aemond feigns a thoughtful expression, “Infection, as a result of injury?” he questions, “No. Too slow”.

The air felt humid and she felt her core clench around nothing realising what he wanted.

Aemond’s large palms, even through the layers of silks, felt as if they were branding the very skin of her thighs as he lifted her onto the table.

"Perhaps paying a servant to poison his wine?"

She made no protest, her eyes glimmered with anticipation when she felt his calloused, sword-worn fingers drift along her calves to lift her skirts. The air, though warm, prickled at her flesh merely at the idea of what he planned to do to her.

“I know” he smiled, watching as she gasped sharply as he pulled her thighs towards him, standing between her outstretched legs as they squeezed his hips.

“Thrown off his horse and trampled to death?"

He dragged his nose over her cheek, watching her eyelashes flutter at the sensation, his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs, dying to rip her smallclothes to shreds.

He whispered, placing a loud, open-mouthed kiss to the space between her ear and neck. She shivered in his touch, though not revealing any intimate part of her body, she felt very much as if he had peeled back her being, and stared into her soul.

“A fitting end”.

She exhaled with difficulty, feeling it catch in her throat as Aemond teasingly wrapped two fists around her smallclothes and tore without mercy to the fabric.

He raised his head only slightly, to see the reaction he had extracted from her.

Her eyes were shut, her lips parted for breath.

"Gods, you look like a maiden when I touch you" he whispered appreciatively.

A pitiful moan fell from her lips as Aemond drew two digits up her womanhood, collecting the slick he knew would be there on his fingertips. Her hand tightened on his leather-clad arm, needing somewhere to express this overwhelming feeling.

"It is because it is you who has touched me like this for the first time".

His eye darkened, the colour eclipsed by black.

“Your husband has not even touched you?”

She shook her head softly, now revealing what embarrassment she had desperately kept inside for so long.

“The marriage was consummated…but that was all…” she answered through hurried breaths as Aemond drew patterns on her pearl with the aid of her wetness, "he would not touch me after that..."

"And you did try, didn't you? To tempt him? Like a good little wife?"

"Y-yes...but he refused..." she answered, her voice wavering, "...he would not even share a bed with me..."

He chuckled, "Then we had best make this a memorable occasion, then. My Lady”.

Having used his other hand to unlace his breeches, he released his cock, groaning with relief as he stroked himself, squeezing arousal from the ruddy tip.

Nobody was more surprised than Aemond, when his lady reached down between them to stroke him with smooth, languid motions, her hand in opposition to his, barely encircling his length.

Their hedonistic expressions met. His breath coming in short bursts with every squeeze of her palm around his throbbing arousal.

“I do not wish for him to die” she breathed, her voice heavy, “only for him to disappear. So that I may pursue my own happiness”.

He cocked his head.

“I do not wish to be a murderer”.

She was quite a woman, Aemond thought. Having gotten him this close to having her, and only now making demands, as if he could refuse her.

He smirked.

“Then it shall be done”.

With the promise sealed, she guided his length between her legs, angling her hips up for him as his cockhead kissed her slick folds. Impatient as Aemond was, he moved forward in one motion, watching her throw her head back as he sheathed the entirety of himself within her.

Her cunt squeezed his cock like a maiden, and yet she did not protest to his harsh treatment of her, in fact, spurring him on with the sounds she was making, clutching onto the front of him with every sharp, true and deep thrust of his cock into her.

"Gods - you are as tight as a maiden - squeezing my cock so tightly - "

One hand stayed around her back to keep her flush to him, sliding up her spine, long fingers threading through her hair at the base of her neck and pulling on her for leverage, using his hold on her body to fuck himself into her. Her breasts, beneath her dress, ached to spring free from their passionate movements, jolting the gold necklace held snugly there.

Aemond was entirely entranced by the image he saw when he looked between them, his cock driving into her with fevor, glazed with her arousal and meeting her fleshy hips with a wet smack each time.

“I’ll have my heirs inside you in no time, Princess” he whispered, pressing his lips against the column of her throat, parting them once in a way to nip at her tender skin, “you shall have everything you desire”.

Her half-lidded eyes opened, the pressure in her core building excessively at the force of him driving so quickly into her, in this position, pulling her onto his length aggressively, bullying a rough, pleasurable place inside her she was not able to reach herself.

“What is it you desire, Princess?” he asks, his thrusts becoming somewhat stuttered and messy, his eye screwing shut as his body wound tight, ready to burst at any moment. His hair stuck irritatingly to his forehead and face, from the exertion of fucking her.

“You…Aemond - you...”

He grinned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, watching her warmed cheeks and body jolting with each smack of his hips. He felt her cunt flutter around him and reached down to apply the same pressure as he had before to her bud, to which she let out a near choked-moan, one hand tightening onto his doublet and the other white-knuckled holding onto the table, emboldened by the act and the fact that they could be caught at any moment in such a disastrous position.

He watches with excitement as she peaks around his length, her cunt sucking him within her from the pressure of her destructive orgasm, just begging for him to spend inside her, and hopefully, in nine moons time, round and large with his heir.

With a choked, staggered moan of his own, Aemond grips her so tightly, she would surely bruise, as he spills himself inside her hot, wet cunt. Filling her impossibly and entirely with his hot, sticky spend, thrusting shallowly to ensure it is as deep inside her as possible. His cock throbs with utter desire, hearing the little mewls of moans still falling from her glistening lips.

She whines softly when he pulls out of her, watching with intense satisfaction at how his arousal as well as hers has made her womanhood glisten.

“You will really do it?...” she asks, still catching her breath.

Aemond huffs a laugh, tucking his softening length back into his breeches, “For your sweet cunt, I am confident I would do anything”.

His Lady smiles back, exhaustedly, pulling her tattered smallclothes off her legs, watching with both confusion and brief fear when Aemond smoothes his silver hair down and walks away.

“Where are you going?” she asks after him, pulling her skirts down.

He half turns, flashing a signature smirk.

“To ask your husband and lover to join me on a hunt. My dear Princess”.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep

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rwrbmovie · 9 months

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: Alex's bisexuality

TZP via Glamour:

TZP: He's had sexual experiences with guys in the past, but he doesn't lead with it. I think it's not even top of mind. He's kissing girls at a New Year's party. And then Henry comes and kind of forces him to grow up and go, ‘Oh, I'm really into this.’ It turns into love, and his identity and family and relationships become even more important. I love that about Alex. Because who knows? If there's an alternative universe, who knows what would have happened if he didn't meet Henry? What if he didn't find a purpose or a higher path for himself other than just being a powerful politician?”

ML via Teen Vogue:

Alex's bisexuality is as important to who he is as Henry's homosexuality is.

This is the story of a young bisexual man discovering that, in addition to being into women, he also — he kind of knows that he's into guys. He admits freely to Nora that he has messed around with guys before, but he's never really had the need to identify until he meets Henry. One of the things that was important to me is that line that he has in that scene with Nora, that “I can wrap my head around being low level into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry.” That for me was key. I needed the audience to hear that, that we're not dealing with a person who's — Alex isn’t a closet case. Alex isn't confused. Actually, if there's anything Alex is confused about, it’s “why am I hot for my sworn enemy?” That's a more interesting story to me. Alex's bisexuality finally needs to be identified in order to articulate his feelings for Henry.

ML via Variety:

In both the novel and the film, Prince Henry first kisses Alex on New Year’s Eve, but Alex’s reaction changed significantly in López’s adaptation. In the book, the kiss sends Alex into a profound realization of his bisexuality, something he’d never given himself time to consider amid his feverish devotion to his mother’s presidential campaign and his undergraduate studies at Georgetown University. In the film, however, Alex is older — he appears to be in law school — and takes Henry’s kiss in stride, in so far as his attraction to men is concerned. “It was born of my decision to cast actors who are older than the characters were in the book,” says López. “I really wanted there to be some genuine stakes and gravity for these characters. If they were too young, you could just explain this away as puppy love. I wanted this movie to be about that first real romance of your life, the first real love affair, the first real love.” Rather than tell a story about a kid in his early 20s who is plunged into uncertainty about his sexuality, López says he wanted Alex to be someone who had messed around with guys but “has yet to have a reason to really understand himself as bisexual.” The director continues, “I wanted Alex’s angst to not be about his sexuality. I wanted it to be focused on Henry.”

ML via Metro Weekly:

One of the things that I think was so beautiful about the story that Casey wrote, is that Alexis such a refreshing character because Alex is so clearly, very definitively bisexual, and that he might even be, I think, maybe that sociologists would term him as bisexual preferring women. He just happens to find himself really preferring Henry, and it surprises him. There's a scene in the movie with Nora, in which he says, "I can wrap my head around being into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry." And I love that there is such an easy acceptance to Alex and who he's attracted to. And that for me was something so unusual about the story and that was so refreshing, and I wanted to bring that to life.

ML via Pink News:

“One of the thing I thought was really refreshing about the book, is the idea that room can be held for people who desire men and women and the journey that Alex takes,” López said. “I really appreciate that in the novel and we’ve kept it in the movie. There is space made for Alex as a bisexual character.”

TZP via Newsweek:

TZP: And Nick and I were always in deep discussions with [Robbie Taylor Hunt] about this because the intimacy part is so important because Alex's arc as a character as somebody that has only dated women in the past—maybe a couple guy hookups—to not liking Henry to getting kissed by Henry and then having a relationship. It's just like, excuse me, the different degrees of comfort that Alex starts to have, this needs to be represented in in a proper way. And Robbie was with us the whole way. And Matthew was there. It was always a group effort, which I really respected.

#rwrbedit #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #taylor zakhar perez #matthew lopez #alex claremont diaz #tzp #bts #rwrbbts #rwrb bts #*#my stuff #the remaining bts posts are quite long

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fairyhaos · 10 months

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❍ the 2k event: jeonghan + empire

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: burn, palace, burn

pairing: prince!jeonghan x f!empress!reader

genre: historical au, empire au, enemies to lovers, angst

word count: 1517

warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, manipulation, imprisonment (yeah,,, this ended up a little dark)

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @jeonwonwoo

War is never something you’ve enjoyed.

Bloodshed is horrifying, and the amount of lives lost, often futilely, make your stomach churn and your heart ache. The effects of war are almost always felt for generations after, staining child after child and traumatising the land beyond belief, the blood of enemies and allies and victims painting nightmares into the soil.

What a shame that your hands are dripping in that very blood.

You sigh, straightening yourself in your throne, brushing at the delicate golden chains dangling from your headdress as they touch your shoulders. However, you’ve been brought up by a tyrannical family, hell-bent on controlling their people. It’s always been your greatest desire to undo that damage, create a prosperous society, but that has proved near impossible.

That was a lesson your advisors had taught you, early on in your reign. As a woman, you’d have little power but to do as the men before you had done.

“Your Imperial Highness! The Great Sun of our land! Your imperial army returns from their latest battle!”

The doors to the throne room burst open, and in strides the head general, helmet under his arm, chest puffed, cheeks splattered with blood. It makes you feel sick.

But what makes you even more ill is the fact that he’s not alone. Behind him, two other soldiers drag in a man, tugging on his chains and forcing him to kneel before you. His head his bent, once-rich robes tattered and torn. There is a crown on his head, but on closer inspection, it looks to be a crude imitation of one, fashioned from tatty cloth and rotten sticks.

“We have returned from our conquest in the East,” your Head General says, proud. “The Kingdom of Thae has fallen to your mighty reign.”

Another kingdom acquired by your crown, you think weakly. Another kingdom for your advisors to lord over. Another kingdom for you to play at being empress to.

“Well done,” you say, and try to hide the discomfort from your voice. Masking it should come easily, given the countless times you’ve done this, but your horror at what has become of you never ceases to fade. “The Imperial Crown thanks you for your service.”

The Head General nods in acknowledgement, and point to the man kneeling beside him. “We have brought the prince of the Thae Kingdom here to you. Though their King and Queen have been slaughtered, Advisor Kim relayed that you would enjoy certain… spoils of war, if there were any left.”

Your head spins. This is horrific. You want to leave.

“Yes,” you manage to force out, as gracefully as possible. “Thank you.” You look down at the man, and his head is still bent, but his chained wrists shake from the way he clenches his fists tightly. “Pray tell, what is the prince’s name?”

The Head General smirks, and steps back. “Would your Imperial Highness like to take a look at him?”

It’s posed as a question, but you have no choice.

You rise from your throne, (lies, it’s not yours, it’s always belonged to anyone but you—) and descend the steps, kneeling before the man, the heavy silks of your skirt fanning out beneath you.

With one finger, you lift up his head, and your breath catches.

He’s beautiful.

“Prince Yoon Jeonghan, Your Imperial Highness,” your Head General introduces for you, and even his name is beautiful.

His hair, raven-dark and mussed up, is still velvet-soft as you tuck a lock behind his ear, mesmerised by his beauty. His eyes are like black diamonds, so dark that you could fall into them and yet endlessly bright and sparkling. His skin is pale, and he looks so small and delicate and you wish for nothing more than to whisk him away from this horrible, horrible world.

Jeonghan snarls, and his teeth sink into your wrist.

Immediately, the guards around him pull at his chains and tug him back, tug him so hard that he falls back, head crashing painfully on the cold stone of the floor.

“Oh!” You don’t even register the stinging teeth marks on your wrist, bleeding red beads, standing up and rushing to his side, holding the back of his head, even as he swats angrily at you, chains clinking. “Are you alright?”

Jeonghan stares at you as if you’ve gone insane, wrestling himself from your grip and receiving more harsh tugs for his actions.

“I gather that Your Imperial Majesty is pleased with this prince?” the Head General says, and the sick pleasure in his tone makes you look up.

“Indeed,” you say, with all the authority you can muster. “Now, leave us.”

There are little benefits to being a puppet empress, but at least the people still have to respect you.

Once they all leave, and the room is empty, you fall to your knees beside him once again, brushing at his robes, seeing if he’s alright. But Jeonghan pushes your hands away again, hissing.

“Leave me alone,” he snaps, and his voice is cracked and hoarse but the anger pulsates, ever-present and unable to be hidden. “I refuse to be your boytoy.”

“Let me help you,” you beg, noticing the bruises along his arms, the dried-up blood on his neck. “Please. I could— I could give you a good life here. I promise.”

Jeonghan’s eyes darken, icy flames dancing in his irises, every blink oozing hate. “Your promises mean nothing to me,” he spits. “I refuse to bow down to a bully like you. You’re a killer, a manipulator, and I want nothing to do with the likes of you.”

Every word is a steel shard struck straight into your heart, and it’s startling how much the hate stings you. You’ve conquered countless kingdoms before, albeit not by your own choice, and you know that this is how people must view you. And yet, it hurts, to hear the venom and calculated rage pouring out of this prince’s mouth.

“I’m not those things,” you say quietly, voice echoing meekly within the large throne room.

Jeonghan scoffs, opening his mouth to retort, and you rush to carry on.

“I’m not the one in charge. I have no power, no control here. I’m—I’m as much a prisoner as you are, a prisoner to my people, to my advisors, to my court. They prod me and push me around as they please, and I can’t do anything against them without being killed. Please, I— just let me help you.”

The hate does not waver in Jeonghan’s eyes. His delicate, pale face is contorted into an expression of such loathing that it makes you shiver in fear.

“If you’re all those things,” he says venomously, “then how can you help me?”

“I can keep you alive,” you say. “I can make sure you won’t die any time soon.”

Jeonghan freezes, and then slumps. He’s sitting on the floor of your recently polished throne room, satin robes torn and charred and splattered with blood. The floor shines, and his blackened fingers curl into the stone, fingernails scraping painfully.

“I just want my parents to be alive,” he says, quietly. “I want my life back.”

His words hit too close to home, and your heart constricts. It takes you several deep breaths before you manage to compose yourself again, and you rest a hand gently on his own.

“I can’t give that to you,” you admit, “however much I want to. I… I can’t even do that for myself.”

Jeonghan looks up, and there’s a question there, amongst the flickering flames of derision and fury and sadness.

“But I can give you a life,” you say. “It won’t be your old one, but it’ll be a life all the same. If you work with me, I can… I think I can free you. Free everyone.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrows, and a sheen covers his eyes as he thinks it over. He’s tattered and underfed and probably suffering several wounds, and yet he is taking the time to think of your offer, and part of you wonders faintly if Jeonghan, before all of this had happened to him, had been someone intelligent and calculating and revered by his people.

You feel even more ill for what you've done to him. For what others have done to him in your name.

“Very well,” Jeonghan says finally, and your eyes widen. His chains clatter once again, and he holds his hand out. “Help me, and I help you.”

You smile, and take his hand, gently helping him to his feet. “I promise.” You prod at the chains on his wrists. “I'll free you. I will."

The beginnings of a smile tug at Jeonghan's lips. He tugs at the golden threads of your crown, and you let him, let him push it off, let it crash to the floor in a tinkle of expensive and heavy metal.

"How noble of you, Empress," he says, but there's a light in his eyes, devious and cunning. He's a fighter, Jeonghan is. You can tell. He grins.

"Let's burn this empire to the ground."

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fuckthispost-andhappybirthday · 11 months

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August 10: Happy Birthday Yuri Himemiya (Prince of Stride: Alternative)!!!!

#yuri himemiya #himemiya yuri #prince of stride #prince of stride: alternative #happy birthday #august 10 #10 august #fuck this post and happy birthday

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noosayog · 7 months

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[a midsummer night's dream] - ft. knight! iwaizumi hajime

warnings/content: princess! reader x knight/personal guard! iwa. fluff mostly, minimal angst. an outtake of it's always been you and inspired by the webtoon series I'm Stanning the Prince!

wc: 1k

This is a story about a time long before you married your knight.

It’s a fond memory you have of your coming of age ball, the morning when you spent hours grooming, primiping, fasting, preparing for the one night of your life when you could finally be seen as a woman. In your mind, there’s only one person you want to notice you tonight and all your efforts would have been worth it if you get even one glance from him.

And so as your mother announces you to the guests and you descend the staircase with all the grace that the years of etiquette training instilled in you, you’re delighted to see that your knight does indeed have his eyes fully trained on you.

As is his duty, he awaits you at the bottom, one arm crooked behind his back and one proffered to escort you as you make your rounds to greet those who have come to wish you a happy birthday.

You think that his simple, “you look beautiful, Princess,” could fuel you all night. You dutifully make your rounds to greet the nobles, moving through the greetings quickly and efficiently, itching to dance your first dance with Hajime.

However, when the dances start, Hajime offers your hand to the first suitor that comes your way.

“Have a wonderful night, princess,” he bows.

And while it would be a lie to say that your naive heart did not feel betrayed, you have loved Hajime onesidedly for long enough that this does not break you.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, but luckily the gentleman who has led you into the first waltz is polite and funny. His easy banter and teasing make for an enjoyable dance and when he asks to continue through the second and third dances, you think it a favorable alternative to chancing on another partner who is leery for an engagement to the royal family.

And as you meet the eyes of your knight who stands in a corner, watching over you should you need assistance, you know he has no intention of leaving his post tonight to dance with you. When Hajime reads your gaze as a cry for help, he pushes off the wall to come for you but you simply shake your head and offer him a weak smile, falling back into step with your partner and waltzing the steps of the next song.

–

You look beautiful tonight. Iwaizumi means it when he tells you. He’s not pleased at the attention you garner from the men at tonight’s gathering and even more so when he thinks about the fact that all men here tonight at your coming-of-age ball are predatory for an opportunity to win your favor and later, your hand in marriage.

Purely as a knight who has protected you since your adolescence.

There could be no other reason for the tautness that takes over his body when he hands you off to the first decent partner for the dances.

As the first dance comes to a close, he awaits the glance he knows you will give him – to come save you from a full dance card of pesky suitors and small talk. As expected, your signal comes and he begins to stride towards you, intent to offer his hand for the second dance.

So it’s a surprise when you shake your head and glide back on the dance floor – with the same partner no less. Iwaizumi leans back against the wall, face clouding over as he watches you dance with the same man for the second dance.

And the third.

And the fourth.

There are only five dances. Will he really not get a chance to dance with you tonight?

The final dance comes on, one he knows you favor and he would be damned if another man got to share your favorite dance when he himself has only practiced with you in private.

Iwaizumi gruffly cuts in, offering a quiet “excuse me,” to your partner and taking your hands without leaving any room for protest. He’s grateful when your partner graciously excuses himself.

Your steps are perfectly aligned to his, no doubt a result of the hours of being your practice partner. He wants to make a gentle jab at the days you were still stepping on his feet, but you refuse to meet his eyes.

Instead, he quietly dances, watching your expressions with each turn.

A minute goes by and you still say nothing. Tiring of your silence, he makes an unpracticed move, picking you up by the hips and twirling you midair.

He’s rewarded with a little yelp wrenched from your throat.

When he returns you to the ground, your lips pull into a pout and he grins. It’s the expression you make when you are suppressing a smile.

“Finally ready to talk to me, Princess?”

You harrumph and turn your head away childishly. Iwaizumi takes that as a win, grinning while the dance continues.

He is content to finish the night like this until he sees your eyes stray to your previous dance partner, who is now dancing with another. Iwaizumi follows your line of sight to see the other man mouthing something he can’t make out. To Iwaizumi’s dismay, you temporarily pause your pout to giggle.

Frustration and something else he dare not name rears its head. In an impulsive show of possessiveness, the hand resting lightly on your hips winds further around your lower back to push your body flush against his. With his other hand holding yours, his pointer finger forces itself into the space between your pinky and ring finger, not quite a full lovers hold but not as estranged as the hold dance partners are meant to have.

The immense satisfaction is well worth it as your eyes, wide as saucers, are returned to him.

A brief thought crosses his mind at the thought of the king and queen seeing the current state of the two of you: fingers improperly intertwined and chest inappropriately to chest.

But the night is glowing so brightly and the apple of your cheeks are flushed so beautifully and your body against his feels so right that he allows you to interpret the smugness pulling at his lips however you please.

Just for tonight.

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mimic-of-hysy · 2 years

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IT'S HIS DAY !!!!!!!

#prince of stride: alternative #prince of stride #heath hasekura #:falling in love at a coffee shop:#settie speaks

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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 months

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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // NINE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: The Blue Spirit inadvertently takes you to see the consequences of the decisions your brother has made during his reign as the Earth King.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: kind of gross description of an injury later on in the chapter?? be warned ig. also idk how compliant some parts of this are with canon but wtvr this is how it is in the glass princess universe

“Kuei!” you wailed, clutching your knee and sobbing, ducking away from the servant that tried to pull you to your feet. “Kuei!”

Though he was barely more than a child himself, he still came running when you called for him. Though he was the king of the Earth Kingdom, though he had many times more important duties to attend to, he always came running. Shoving the servant out of the way with a murmured apology, he crouched and swept you into his arms.

“Y/N, Y/N, don’t cry. What happened? Why do you weep?” he said, clutching your small body to his chest, holding your face against his narrow shoulders. You muffled your tears in the silken fabric of his robes, though the pain you were feeling rapidly faded in the protective warmth of your brother’s embrace.

“She fell, your royal majesty,” the servant said. “The stone floors scraped her knee, and she has been bawling since it happened. She won’t allow me to clean it, so it’s been left unattended. She keeps saying that she’ll only allow you to see to it.”

“Sister, you must let the servants help you,” Kuei admonished you, picking you up and setting you down on the ground before him. “That’s the entire reason they’re in the palace at all.”

You peered up at Kuei, blinking your wet, swollen eyes at him pitifully. He tried to remain stern, but the effect was lost on you, as he softened within the instant, using the ends of his flowing sleeves to wipe your face from the tears rapidly drying on your skin. Then, before anyone could protest, he tore the hem of his robe off.

“Your royal majesty!” the servant, inhaling sharply. “That robe was sent to your great-great-grandfather by the Fire Nation for his coronation! It is a priceless heirloom!”

“What is the past when compared to the present? What is an heirloom when compared with my sister?” Kuei said rhetorically, using the cloth to dab at the shallow wound on your knee and then tying it around the joint before helping you stand. “There you go. Does it still hurt quite as terribly?”

“Not as much,” you said. He rubbed your round cheek with the back of his hand.

“Good,” he said. “Servant, tell Long Feng I must meet with him immediately. There are some changes I wish to make.”

After that day, every hallway and every room in the Earth Palace had its stone floors covered in a plush, woven carpet.

“What do you want, Kuei?” you said, striding into his room and sitting primly across from him, folding your hands in your lap and crossing your legs at the ankles. Kuei had somehow squeezed both himself and his bear into a single armchair, but it was clearly an uncomfortable fit for the both of them. You supposed it did not matter to you, though, so you did not react beyond arching a single brow at the questionable arrangement of their two bodies and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Is it a crime for a brother to want to see his sister every once in a while?” Kuei said.

“You never call me just to see me,” you said. “Normally, it’s when you have bad news or when you want something from me. Let us skip over the mindless chatter this time and get to the point. Which is the reason you demanded my presence in your chambers?”

“It’s neither,” he said, looking at the ground. “Or, in some sense, it is both.”

“Kuei…” you said, and then you sighed. “Just tell me. You only need to do that much, and I won’t be angry, but you must speak the truth, and say it fully.”

“Bosco,” he said, which prompted a sleepy, mumbling groan from the bear. It was the kind of noise that might’ve been frightening if you were unused to it, but to you, it was high, reedy, thin — nothing like even the mere rise and fall of Quynh’s breath. “He is lonely.”

“If you’re going to ask me to babysit your bear, then I’ll have to tell you to save your breath,” you said. “That is one thing I will refuse you. There are people you pay to do exactly that kind of thing, so why would you foist the duty upon me?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he said. “It’s not something difficult. Well, it’s not taxing in that it won’t take very much time nor effort, but you might wish you didn’t have to do it, so it could be considered an unfair demand.”

“I see,” you said warily, knowing that anything more might be seen as agreement to an unknown decision.

“I want to send out an expedition!” he said.

“An expedition? Of what sort?” you said.

“To find a mate for Bosco, or, if not a mate, then a member of his own species who can be his friend. Imagine if you were stuck in a palace and only had beings entirely unlike you as company!” he said.

“It’s funny, actually, because I don’t really have to imagine…” you said under your breath.

“What?” Kuei said. You shook your head.

“Nothing,” you said.

“Anyways, that’s Bosco’s reality! Don’t you pity him? He must be so isolated and depressed,” he said.

If you did not know him so well, you would’ve thought he was doing it on purpose, but Kuei was so guileless that the only explanation was obliviousness to the extent that it could breed such irony.

“I’m sure it’s like that,” you said.

“That’s why I want to try and find another bear,” he said.

“I thought he was the only one to exist in the world?” you reminded him. Kuei had the nerve to roll his eyes at you.

“Do you think he just sprang from the ground like a tree? He must’ve had parents, which implies a larger population exists somewhere, even if it is a place we have not yet thought to look. Besides, the stories of Quynh must be rooted in some fact, so there is further proof that others exist,” he said.

“How many times must I tell you? The story of Quynh is not a story but the truth!” you said.

“You can say it as many times as you please,” Kuei said. “I know you particularly enjoy the sound of your voice, and I would do anything for you, you know, which includes allowing you to preach at me so that you may listen to yourself speak. If that comes in the form of sermons on Quynh and her nature, then I suppose it is just the kind of sacrifice that an elder brother must make.”

“You know what?” you said. “You’re the one who supposedly needs my help, so you ought not to be insulting me! What if I say no now?”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking you yet!” he said.

“Perhaps not, but please note that your chances of being rejected have increased exponentially,” you said. Kuei scoffed.

“I need someone else to sign the promissory note,” he said. “The Minister of the Treasury refuses to lend to me anymore.”

“Why would you need to take out a loan for something like that?” you said. “We have more than enough money in our family vaults to fund an expedition of that nature, even if I think it’s something of a waste of money.”

“We’re not allowed to access them,” Kuei said. This was news to you; after all, you had never really had much cause to inspect the family vaults, so you had not even known that you were denied the wealth of your ancestors. “Long Feng says we aren’t responsible enough to handle that much money yet.”

“So you’ve been funding your errands and expeditions with promissory notes?” you said.

“Yes,” Kuei said.

“Have you paid any back?” you said. He shook his head.

“No, we can’t visit the treasury, remember?” he said. “What money would I pay them back with?”

You fought back the urge to scream at him, forcing yourself to take deep breaths in the pursuit of calming down.

“Well, your salary, for one,” you said. “Even I’m paid some amount, just for being the princess, and you’re the king, so you should be getting more.”

“It’s nowhere near enough,” he said.

“Kuei,” you said through gritted teeth. “How much debt is the crown in?”

“Um…” he looked at Bosco nervously, like he was searching for a protector. The bear did not so much as blink at him; you wondered how your brother felt, knowing that the creature he had spent so much money on had such a lackadaisical reaction to his distress. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know, Y/N.”

“Yet you want me to sign a promissory note on your behalf?” you said. “Without even knowing how much debt our family is in, you want me to put us into more?”

“Long Feng said it’s alright,” Kuei said. “In fact, he was the one who suggested I ask you.”

“Does he have a plan for paying it back?” you said. Long Feng was Kuei’s most trusted advisor, and though you chafed against the tight leash he kept on you, you had to admit that he had done what he could to ensure the kingdom’s safety, even through Kuei’s ineptitude.

“Actually, he does,” Kuei said. “We’re going to implement a tourism tax. In recent years, the number of visitors to Ba Sing Se has skyrocketed; by levying a tax on those individuals as they enter the city, we’ll easily generate enough revenue to get rid of our debt entirely!”

It was a sound idea, but you were still, for some reason, uneasy about it. You couldn’t place your finger on why, but there was something holding you back from just agreeing as you normally would’ve.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not yet,” you said. “How about we strike a deal? Once the existing debt has been paid off, I will agree to sign a new promissory note.”

“But Y/N!” he whined.

“It’s the best you’ll get out of me,” you said. “Either agree to abide by those rules or get someone else to take on the responsibility.”

Stubbornness was a family trait; you both possessed it in equal measure, which was why he knew that you were not fibbing. He jutted his chin out in defiance, but it was in the way of an obstinate child forced to acquiesce.

“Very well,” he said. “The debt will be gone within days! I will tell Long Feng to raise the tax. If people can afford to travel here, then they certainly have the coins to spare.”

“If that’s what you think is best,” you said. “As for me, I’ll be off.”

“Back to your room already?” Kuei said. “What do you even do in there nowadays?”

“The same as usual,” you said. “Read. Study. I must be as well-educated as possible, in all aspects, so I learn of history, and etiquette, and politics, and the fine arts, and other such subjects.”

“Are you off to read or to study, then?” he said.

“I’m reading,” you said. “Seven Soldiers of Agni, to be precise.”

“Didn’t you read that years ago?” Kuei said. “I remember you talking about it back then.”

“Yes, but I just — um, I just happened to see it on my bookshelf, which made me recall how much I adored it, so I’ve been rereading it,” you said. You could hardly tell Kuei the real reason why you were rereading Seven Soldiers of Agni: because Lee had told you to.

Seven Soldiers of Agni was, in your opinion, a far better story than The Mask of the Blue Spirit. You had to give Lee this much; besides his opinions on the ending of The Mask of the Blue Spirit, he had good taste in literature. You had been enjoying immersing yourself in the world of the seven Fire Nation ex-elites, who had each been sent out on personal quests by their Fire Lord in wake of an embarrassing defeat in battle, so that they could regain their honors and their statuses as Soldiers of Agni.

The passageway Quynh opened for you seemed short this time. Or maybe it was that you were rushing — meeting Kuei had taken longer than you had hoped it would, and if you were not quick enough, you’d miss the lighting of the lanterns that you had promised the Blue Spirit you’d be present to see.

Luckily, the spirit realm was on your side today. The door opened directly in front of the fountain, and you stumbled out of it in relief, nearly tripping over the uneven cobblestones of the plaza as you did so. Pressing your cool hands to your cheeks, which were warmed from the exertion of running through the passageway, you took a deep breath to settle your racing heart.

Scanning the vicinity, you saw nothing but the men lighting the lanterns with their stick-like torches. You should not have been disappointed by this, but you could not help yourself. There was no reason to imagine he’d even understood your cryptic words, but you had really been hoping he would’ve.

You sat on a nearby bench, watching as one by one, each lantern was lit. It was so unlike the eerie shine of Quynh’s Den; the crystals had a greenness to their glow, a cool toned lighting that washed everything in a ghostly tint. On the other hand, these lanterns were warm. The fires within them were gold and yellow and orange, benevolent in their hue, dancing cheerfully in the slight breeze of the evening. It made you wonder if the entire Fire Nation was composed entirely of people like this, people who were as bright and gentle as the element they lay claim to.

You didn’t know where he came from, but it remained that one moment, you were admiring the lanterns, and the next, you were turning to see the Blue Spirit sitting stiffly at your side, gloved hands clasped together, back straight as a pillar. And though you should’ve been startled, you could not help the smile from creeping over your face.

“Hello, Blue Spirit,” you said. “I thought you wouldn’t come. I’m sure you have more important things to do with your time.”

He shrugged.

“Well, if you’re anything like the man from the story, you’d be off saving the unfortunate,” you said. “Though I don’t know how many unfortunate there are in Ba Sing Se.”

He shook his head, though you weren’t sure which part, exactly, he was denying. But it mattered little; the end result was that he was there, sitting beside you, watching the reflections of the lanterns on the rippling water.

For a moment, you were both silent, and then slowly, carefully, as if you were entreating a wounded animal, you placed your hand atop his. His fingers twitched, but he did not pull away, only tilting his head to look at you quizzically. You did not move to interlock your fingers with his, simply letting your palm rest against the back of his hand like a whisper.

“Thank you,” you said, swallowing back your shyness in favor of honesty. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know who you are…but you really are someone admirable. I’m sure you have many better things to be doing, but yet you are here, with me. With a girl who does not even know what it means to have a person as a companion. I’m sure…I’m sure that I’m not the most entertaining person you could be spending your time with, yet you are spending it with me regardless.”

He raised his other hand and flicked you on the forehead. You scowled at him, but it was a weak expression of anger, barely able to disguise the rush of embarrassed pleasure you felt at the scolding form of acceptance.

“Do you truly mean that?” you said. It was definitely naive of you to assign such significance to a person you were only meeting for the third time now, a person who wore a mask and who never spoke, but you could not stop yourself from doing it. You could not stop yourself from wanting to know his answer.

A short, sharp nod. Your eyes widened, and you looked away, biting your lip, your shoulders drawing up to your ears as a way to shield yourself. You weren’t sure how to answer these things, how you were meant to react to them. The territory you were venturing into was entirely foreign, and you wanted to shy away as much as you went to leap into it headfirst.

Abruptly, without warning, the Blue Spirit’s fingers were wrapping around your wrist and he was yanking you towards him. You yelped in surprise at the firmness of his grip, but he did not let you protest, using his arm to shield your head as a boulder came flying through the air, whistling past where you had just been sitting.

“No,” you whispered as you realized you had been found once again. It only took a cursory glance for you to realize that the Blue Spirit had foregone his swords, too, which meant that you were in more than a bit of trouble. “I didn’t think they would be so daring as to attack me in the middle of — oh!”

The Blue Spirit pulled you after him at such a speed that you were breathless as you tried to keep up. Fisting the fabric of your skirt in one hand, you left the other limp in the air, its wrist still held fast by the Blue Spirit, who used it to guide you along behind him.

He knew the alleyways so well that he did not even hesitate as he charged along them, knowing intuitively where to step, where to leap slightly so that his feet did not catch, and though you did not possess this kind of knowledge, his own experience applied to you. You did not think about where you were going nor what you were doing; instead, you just followed after the Blue Spirit, trusting him blindly, without even the time to question if it was the right choice or not.

You were being chased. You could hear him behind you, the bricks of the road rising up to assault you as you went, and it was only thanks to the Blue Spirit’s dexterity that you were able to avoid the attacks. It was the same person as the night you had met the Blue Spirit, you were certain of it, which meant that he knew who you were, that this was even more targeted than you had previously understood.

“I don’t understand it!” you panted out as you barreled into yet another narrow alleyway. “I don’t understand why he’s out for my blood like this! How can I have enemies when I haven’t even left the palace before?”

The Blue Spirit did not respond, rounding a corner and then pausing before using a flower pot to boost himself and, consequently, you, onto the roof of a nearby shop. Hooking his hands under your arms to drag you up with him, he held a finger to his lips.

Your head spun as you realized how high you were, how precarious your perch was. The two of you were balancing on the peak of the roof, which was hardly wide enough for your two feet to remain side-by-side. You wobbled with uncertainty, but the Blue Spirit had not yet let go of you, and at the unsure movement, he only held on tighter.

“Where are they?” the voice of the man trying to kill you said as he rounded the same corner you had just crossed. “Princess Y/N and that defender of hers!”

You couldn’t tell who he was talking to, as by all accounts he seemed to be alone. Still, he did not continue running, skidding to a stop and inspecting the area. It was only a matter of time before he’d reach the natural conclusion and look up, but before that could happen, the Blue Spirit was once again taking a hold of your wrist and then running along the ridge, pulling you along with him, though in your right mind you’d never do anything so dangerous.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you said as you both reached the end of the roof and it became evident what he was implying you had to do next. “Blue Spirit, did you hear me? I’m not the kind of person that does these things!”

The force of his eye roll could be felt even through his mask. To be sure, it was rather a silly concern — it was either jumping or giving yourself up to a certain death at the hands of your assailants. Still, though, you thought that you rather preferred your chances with the assassins. There was a chance they’d be merciful when killing you, and certainly they’d be more merciful than the ground by far.

But the Blue Spirit did not give you the chance to think about it. Actually, he did not give you a chance to do anything, jumping first, his momentum hauling you along with him. He had the good sense to catch you and stabilize you via his hands on your shoulders, allowing you a precious moment to breathe before you were off again, flitting from rooftop to rooftop in the same manner, as if you two were simply small birds playing in the night.

Only once you had been going for an impossibly long time did he slow his relentless pace and then finally cease it altogether. Helping you down to the ground, he allowed you to lean on him as you gasped for air.

“You are very reckless,” you said. “But that recklessness has saved my life, so I shall not reprimand you for it. Anyways, I suppose I owe you an explanation, considering this is the second time you’ve had to rescue me from that man.”

The Blue Spirit nodded. You took another second to calm your mind and your nerves, sighing when your heart continued its frantic beating and your chest remained tight. But at least you could speak normally now, so, gathering your wits about you, you straightened in order to stand of your own volition instead of his generosity.

“My father was killed by an Earthbending assassin shortly before I was born, as I’m sure you know — it’s not exactly some great secret, considering it happened in the city and not the palace. Although I have no reason to believe it, I cannot help but think that these recent attempts on my own life are somehow related to that incident,” you said.

You weren’t sure if that illuminated anything, but the Blue Spirit did not seem confused. Still, you felt like you had to explain further, perhaps defend your family’s name — or, at least, your own.

“I’m not sure what the reasoning is,” you said. “Nor how he and his accomplices know the truth of my identity. What good would come about from killing me? But they seem set upon it. Perhaps it is because I am the only one of my family who they have a chance at reaching. Kuei is ever safe in the palace, so it could be that they are simply capitalizing on an opportunity. It doesn’t answer the question of how they know who I am, though…”

You trailed off, lost in thought, and it was only then that you became aware of an awful, droning din that had been in the background while you were talking but now grew forefront in the absence of conversation. Tapping the Blue Spirit on the shoulder, you made a general motion in the direction of the noise.

“Wherever have we ended up, anyways? Do you know what that sound is?” you said.

Another nod of affirmation. You waited for him to, in his own way, elaborate, but he did not move. It was as if he was embarrassed or ashamed or frightened — something along those lines.

“You do not wish for me to know what it is?” you said.

He shook his head. You furrowed your brow.

“You think I will not like what I find? But it is my own city. Should I not, then, know? Whether good or bad, I ought to be aware of these things,” you said.

Glancing around cagily for a minute, he finally, reluctantly extended his hand to you. There were no words required for you to understand what he meant: it was your decision. Whatever you saw, it was your choice to see it.

You did not run this time. You slunk around, snakes instead of birds, ghosts through the city that were not being pursued but were instead the ones in pursuit, seeking something out that, according to the Blue Spirit, was better off not sought in the first place.

It was an archway. Members of the Royal Army stood in front of it, their faces and postures unyielding, their ranks only breaking to allow people in occasionally before immediately reforming into an impenetrable wall. They were silent, though; the source of the clamor was the mass of people on the other side of them.

“What is going on here?” you said, though this was a problem that was beyond the scale of the Blue Spirit’s hand gestures. “You there. What is the situation? Why are these people in such distress?”

“You don’t know?” said the man you had addressed. He was standing behind a stone counter, sorting change into neat piles, but at your voice, he glanced up at you. “Well, it’s a new policy, so it’s no surprise.”

“What new policy?” you said.

“That tourism tax,” the man said, voice dripping with acidic sarcasm. “Most of these tourists can’t afford to pay it, you know. Damn Earth King. Who cares about that bear of his when his own subjects are like this? Though you didn’t hear that from me, missy.”

Long Feng had always told you that tourists were wealthy people who came to Ba Sing Se for fashion. You had imagined them to be dripping in lush fabrics and glimmering jewels, arriving in carriages drawn by only the finest of steeds or palanquins carried by only the strongest of men. When Kuei had told you that there was another tourism tax to be implemented, you had not rallied against it, for in your mind, tourists were people who could drop thirty gold coins and not feel a difference in the weight of their purses.

That is to say, when you imagined tourists, you, in a way, imagined yourself. Yourself, if only you were free from the palace. Yourself, if you could visit Ba Sing Se with your own identity instead of in the guise of a commoner, sneaking through Quynh’s doors. But these people did not resemble that image at all. These people were nothing like you.

Their clothes were worn and old, their shoes ragged — if they were so fortunate as to have shoes at all. Most were barefoot, their heels cracked and bleeding, their nails jagged and peeling. Dust and sweat caked on their faces and sank into the lines of their weathered expressions, and there was a wild desperation to the way they clawed at one another, cupped their hands together, begged and begged to be allowed entrance to the great city.

One man was limping; the flesh of his right leg was the bubbling pink and yellow of a burn wound, though a purplish-black infection stained the edges. A young girl was trying in vain to help him walk, but the others paid him no mind as they surged forward, pleading with the soldiers, who remained steadfast in their refusal.

“Please!” a woman shouted, baby in her arms. “Take my child! For — for any amount of money, take my child!”

“Is she selling her baby?” you said in horror, clenching the Blue Spirit’s hand so hard that, were he not wearing gloves, he’d surely be scarred with the imprint of your nails. The man behind the counter shook his head.

“She’s offering to pay someone to take him with them, if they have enough to pay the tax to enter the city,” he said. “Any amount of money. She’ll sell herself, if that’s what it takes, just as long as her child makes it into Ba Sing Se.”

“Why won’t they let them in?” you said. “That man, he will lose his leg if he does not get medical attention immediately! And the child…it needs food. Malnutrition will stunt its growth, if it can even survive those conditions.”

“Ask his royal majesty,” the man scoffed. “He’s gone and raised the entrance fee again, apparently so that he can fund more expeditions to find a friend for that beast of his. No one can afford it, at least not the people at this gate. It’s not a problem at the monorail station or the other gates, where the wealthier refugees arrive, but at places like this, it’s causing issues.”

“Refugees?” you said. “But what cause do they have to seek refuge?”

The man paled, looking around nervously and then shaking his head.

“Of course, nothing,” he said. “They’re just tourists.”

“But you said—” you began, though you were cut off by the man wagging his finger at you.

“I don’t want to end up in a bad way with the Dai Li, do you hear me? I didn’t say anything! If you’re not here to gawk at their troubles, then what business do you have here?” he said.

“I — I suppose that I don’t have any,” you said.

“Then best be off before something happens,” he said. “They look about ready to revolt, and if it comes to that, then you’re right in the line of fire — I mean, boulders! Boulders. Nothing to do with fire.”

Based on the set of the Blue Spirit’s shoulders, he wanted to take the man’s recommendation. This wasn’t any kind of place for someone like you, after all, someone so sheltered and looked after. How could you, who had never wanted for anything, empathize with these people who had lost everything? How could you, who lived in a palace, understand the pain of those who had no homes at all? It was futile. You were Princess Y/N. You were — you were —

“You’re just gonna stand there?” the man said. “Make up your mind, and hurry up with it! Things are getting messy already, and you’re just dithering about! Seriously, you’re about as useful as that glass princess.”

“Glass princess?” you said. The man snorted, and that was when the Blue Spirit tugged on your hand in earnest, but you planted your feet against him. This was something you wanted to know.

“Have you been living in a cave your entire life?” he said. “Yes, the Glass Princess. The Earth King’s dearly beloved sister, who is too delicate for this world. Not a soul alive has seen her. It’s like she’s made of glass or something — hence, you know, why everyone calls her that. Really, it’s hard to tell which one is more contemptible between the two. One sibling who makes his subjects’ lives harder and the other who sits by and watches it happen. Just as long as she is comfortable. Just as long as her own life is not impacted. She’d watch everyone suffer, I’d wager, just as long as she could keep wearing her pretty dresses and fancy jewels.”

“Is that what they think of — of her?” you said. The man shoved his fist in his mouth and shook his head rapidly, eyes widening with panic.

“Of course not,” he said. “All hail the royal family! Please, beautiful, generous, kind-hearted miss, do not report me for treason. Please, I have children!”

You paid no attention to his fervent declarations of loyalty, gazing out at the crowd. These people hated you. It was not your differences which formed the chasm between you and them; it was that they genuinely despised you. You were the princess made of glass, the one who cared not for her subjects, the one who knew nothing about their plight and had no desire to learn, either. That was what they thought of you. That was who you were to them.

The man’s leg gave out, the girl falling to her knees and shielding him with her body from the trampling feet of the crowd. The woman’s cries grew louder, the baby’s body rattling periodically with coughs, but still no one took it from her arms, because no one could afford it. No one could gain entrance to Ba Sing Se, let alone with a child in tow, so why would they take her up on the offer?

“Guards!” you shouted, wrenching free from the Blue Spirit and storming towards the line of men. “I demand you let these people in at once!”

“Who are you to give such a command?” one of the guards said. He wore a captain’s uniform, but he was still young, fresh-faced. He must’ve been newly promoted. It explained why he was so set on following protocol, at any rate.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” you said, and then you took out the money you had thought you would give to the Blue Spirit last night. “This will be enough. This will be enough to let anyone through this gate. Until they stop coming, they will be allowed in, at my expense. You shan’t charge them even a copper!”

The captain made to argue, but then he opened the bag and his jaw dropped. You glared at him with your hands on your hips as he slowly closed it and bowed at you.

“As you say, lady,” he said. “Let them in!”

The guards parted, and the crowd rushed in, like they did not believe the good fortune would last and they had to capitalize on it while they could. It was only the quick reaction of the Blue Spirit pulling you to safety that you were not bowled over, and you patted him on the arm in thanks.

“We should go,” you said. “What I’ve just done is bound to raise suspicion. Very few people have access to the kind of money I’ve just thrown at them, and there will be investigations soon, I have no doubt. It will be better if we are not caught at the scene by those who have questions they need answered. Not if I ever want to return to the city again.”

The two of you vanished just in time. When the Dai Li agents arrived to question the captain you had paid, he could only point to the darkness and say that the benefactor had disappeared, that the girl and her blue-masked companion must’ve been nothing more than a pair of spirits, perhaps sent by the long-absent Quynh for the good of her former kingdom.

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