#SELF

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

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

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

WORD COUNT. 12k words

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

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

alternatively :

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Growing, learning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had been peaceful.

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

Your blood runs cold.

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

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

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

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

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

Smell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You won’t leave, simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shoot!

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

However, your success is short-lived.

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

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

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

Beast.

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

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

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

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

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

Mage.

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

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

“One remained, huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho, this is important.”

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

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

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A devil, dressed as an angel.

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

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

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

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

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

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

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

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

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

���Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

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

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver.

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

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

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

“Do you know what he does?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

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

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

“Tell who?”

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

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

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

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

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

Pleased.

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

Vile.

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

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

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

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

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

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

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

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

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He won’t bite y’know.”

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

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

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

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

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse m-“

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

Ah. Right.

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

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

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

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

Salve. What salve?

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

“You smell.”

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

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

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

“We’ve arrived.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

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

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

“..He forgot something again.”

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

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

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

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

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

A short term fix.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

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

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

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

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

Seungmin grins.

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

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

Marriage. 

What.

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

Seungmin clears his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your scent.”

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

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run away. 

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

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

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

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone.

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

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

Deer caught in headlights. 

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

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

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

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

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

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

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

King Bahng. 

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

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

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

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

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

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

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

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

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Minho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

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

“When do you want to train.”

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

“Tomorrow?”

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

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

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

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

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

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

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

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

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that unfai—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

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

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

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deception is your greatest weapon.

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

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One more match?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

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

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

Lies.

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

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

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

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

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

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

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

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

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

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

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

No escape. 

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

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

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

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

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

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

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

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

Inside lies a gown.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

What awful circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He clears his throat.

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

He sounds timid, like a child.

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

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

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

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

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

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

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

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

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

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

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

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

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

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

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

You scoff.  

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

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

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

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

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

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

“You know I can’t do that.”

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

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

“And why is that?”

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

He’s right, in some way. 

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

Yet, you aren’t. 

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

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

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

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

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

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

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

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

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

“I want to see spring again.”

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

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

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

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

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

For now, you’re indifferent.

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

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

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

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

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

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

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

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

Oh Felix.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach wrenches.

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

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

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

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

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

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

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

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

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

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

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

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

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

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

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

“Could be better.” 

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

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

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

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

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

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

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

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

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

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

“You kept the ring on?”

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

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

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

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

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

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

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

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

He perks up.

“Hm?”

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

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

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

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

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

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

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

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

You clear your throat.

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

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

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

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

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

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

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

He sucks in a breath.

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

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

“Chris, do you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d be honored.”

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

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[aspoonofsugar]

Weiss's Design

Here comes an appreciation post of our Snowhite's beautiful design! This is also the third installment of my RWBY design series, after Yang and Blake's analyses. As per usual, it uses ideas shared in other Weiss's metas. Enjoy!

A SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE

Monty Oum's early sketch depicts Weiss as a living snowflake:

This is because Weiss's design plays with the idea of "a special snowflake" in two different ways:

"snowflake" is a derogatory term for a person, who is entitled, oversensitive and easily offended; it also holds some political implications linked to white privilege

snowflakes are famous for having unique structures, so each one is different from the others

Weiss is initially a stubborn and pampered heiress, who feels superior because of her name. Still, she is deep down frail and needs to build her own distinctive identity.

These two sides of our Snowhite are conveyed by the Schnees' semblance:

Glyhps are snowflake-shaped and they represent:

the family privilege, as they are inherited by all the Schnees - they are a magical projection of the family crest

the potential of each Schnee to grow into their own person - they gain more complex and individual designs with time

In short, Weiss is a special snowflake, for better or worse. She can give in to her father's mentality and be defined by her name. Or she can step into the world and discover who she is outside her family:

Winter: It sounds to me like you have two choices in front of you. You can either call Father, beg for his money back, and explain once more why you would want to study at Beacon over Atlas, or you could continue to explore Remnant, discovering more about the world and honestly, more about yourself.

Let's see what Weiss's design says about her choice.

SNOW PRINCESS

Let's consider Weiss's concept art:

And let's compare it to Winter's:

The two sisters appear similar:

their color schemes are the same

they look like royalty

they share glyphs as their semblance

they fight with swords

They are designed this way to show that Weiss looks up to Winter and tries to emulate her. This is clear if one considers Weiss and Winter's allusions: Weiss alludes to Snowhite, while Winter alludes to the Snow Queen. And yet, when one looks at Weiss's concept art, it is easier to see the Snow Queen's inspiration, rather than Snowhite's:

She looks like a snowflake

She is the color of ice and snow

She wears a crown, like a queen

Glyphs resemble the Snow Queen's power to turn snowflakes into animals

It is as if Weiss's true self (Snowhite) is hidden behind a mask (the Snow Queen). This conveys Weiss's insecurity, as she is caught between the weight of the family crest (a snowflake) and her idolisation of Winter (the Snow Queen). She is a Snow Princess, who needs to decide which kind of Queen she'll be. Either an Evil Queen like Jacques or an Ice Queen like Winter.

Still, Weiss is her own person and this comes to the surface in her final design:

The main differences with the first version are:

Her bangs and pony-tail do not part in two sides

She has a scar on her left eye instead than a beauty mark

Her necklace is an apple instead of a tear-drop

She has no tear-drops dangling from her sleeves

The golden circles on her bolero become silver and she gains silver decorations on her boots

Weiss loses her tear-drop motif and her color-scheme gets simplified. This gives her more Snowhite-like details:

The apple on the necklace alludes to the poisoned apple

The scar on the eye alludes to the magical mirror cracking

The final design only has black, white (silver) and red, which are Snowhite's defining colors

Moreover, Weiss's appearence grows more asymmetric. Her hair is not perfectly parted, but worn in a side pony-tail. This symbolizes Weiss's struggle against Jacques's expectations. Similarly, the elegant beauty mark is changed with a scar. This gives Weiss more personality and shows that behind the princess there is a fighter.

In short, Weiss's Vale design shows glimpses of our girl's true self. However, they are hidden by the cold ice covering Weiss's soul. Luckily, the Spring Arc comes and the ice melts.

MELTING ICE

In Mistral, Weiss leaves her white dress behind and wears a blue outfit:

This happens because our snowflake is slowly melting into water (white > blue), so that she can become herself. In order to do so, though, she has to first lose all the superficial things that define her identity:

Jacques: You are no longer the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company.

Weiss sees herself as the SDC heiress, so the story takes away her title.

Vernal: Your sister isn't in Mistral anymore. No one is coming to rescue you.

Weiss sees herself as Winter's little sister, so the story has her separated from Winter.

Thanks to this, Weiss faces herself and discovers who "just Weiss" is:

Vernal: Let's see what the Schnee name really means. Weiss: I'm more than a name.

This transformation is mirrored by Weiss's design. She loses all the superficial references to Snowhite:

she wears no apple anymore

she has no black-white-red color pattern

Still, her fairy tale emerges strongly in her glyphs, as she learns to summon:

Weiss's avatars are Snowhite's characters:

The Boarbatusk is the Hunter, who is famous for killing a boar

The Knight is the Prince, who saves Snowhite from the glass coffin

The Queen Lancer is both the Evil Queen and the New Queen Snowhite becomes at the end

Weiss loses all she has to be reborn anew. Similarly, her design is stripped of all the Snowhite's allusions, only for them to be expressed more clealry and in a deeper way by the evolution of her semblance. Weiss's magical snowflakes aquire unique patterns that refer to her personal story.

This process of refinement climaxes in volume 5. Here, Weiss dies, is resurrected and crowns herself queen by summoning the Queen Lancer. This Grimm represents who Weiss truly is. She is neither the Evil Queen, nor the Snow Queen, but a Royal (a queen), who is also a Knight (a lancer). She is a Queen Knight.

After this metaphorical coronation, Weiss starts showing her interiority outside. This is why she gains back her two missing colors in her journey to Atlas:

she wears a red scarf

she wears black thights

She is back to look like Snowhite (black + white + red)!

Interestingly, both the scarf and the thights are items worn to stay warm. In short, the closer Weiss gets to her Icy Kingdom (Atlas), the more she shows her true warm self (Snowhite).

QUEEN SNOWHITE

Weiss's Atlas design has three layers to it:

it is queen-like

it is Snowhite-like

it has all the colors of the previous outfits

1- Weiss gains a silver tiara with red gems. It is bigger and more refined than the old one because Weiss has grown. She isn't a princess anymore. She is a queen.

2- Weiss wears Snowhite's three colors: a white dress, black gloves and red jewels. interestingly, black and red are not covered by white. The ice is melted and Weiss's different shades are now out in the open. What is more, Weiss's outfit is similar to her Disney's counterpart:

Disney-Snowhite wears a dress with blue puffed sleeves, which are present in Weiss's Atlas design. There is no risk to confuse our girl with the Snow Queen anymore:

Weiss is not Winter's imitation, but her own person. She is 100% Snowhite.

3 - Weiss's clothes are white, black, red and light blue. These are all the colors worn by her throughout the story. In addition, there is a warmer shade of blue, which shows the cold is gone once and for all. These palette symbolizes Weiss's different parts coming together into a more beautiful and stronger person.

This fits Weiss's new summon:

The Nevermore combines all the other glyphs. It is the final form of Weiss's inner snowflake and the culmination of her growth. Aesthetically, it gives Weiss an angelic look, which brings to mind the final inspiration of her design.

MAGICAL SNOW ANGEL

Oh look! Weiss looks like Sailor Moon! This isn't by chance, as Weiss is inspired by the magical girl genre. Magical girls are heroines, who:

transform into ideal versons of themselves

fight metaphors of human emotions in the form of monsters

purify people's hearts

Weiss is the same, but the first heart she needs to cleanse is her own:

Mirror, tell me something, Tell me who's the loneliest of all? Fear of what's inside of me; Tell me can a heart be turned to stone?

Yes, it can:

Pure Heart Crystal (Sailor Moon)

Soul Gem (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

A gem standing for one's heart is a pretty common trope in magical girls' stories. Not only that, but the corruption and healing of these stones come up often. Well, Weiss's heart is a snow-crystal, which needs to be melted and rebuilt into a unique structure.

Weiss purifies it by fighting her inner demons in the form of Grimms. As a matter of fact these monsters symbolize humanity's darkness, so they are the perfect enemy for a magical girl. Weiss defeats them and makes them white like snow. She integrates them and the struggles they represent into herself. Through this process, she slowly changes into her ideal self. She doesn't need a spectacular transformation sequence because her evolution happens inside. It is slow, but deep and here to last. After all, the heart is irreplaceable:

Everyone is entitled to their own sorrow, for the heart has no metrics or forms of measure. And all of it… irreplaceable.

Hearts are like snowflakes because there are no two, which are the same. Weiss learns this lesson and starts teaching it to others. This is how she heals hearts. Empathy is her superpower. Thanks to it, she is ready to save her family legacy:

Weiss: I will not be defined by my name because I will be the one to define it.

Weiss's first step is to define herself outside the Schnee name. Her second step is to give the Schnee name a new meaning. She first refines her heart. Then she cleanses her surname. From her inner snowflake to the family crest. That is the kind of magical girl she is.

In a sense, she is stepping into Nicholas's footsteps. He purifies minerals into Dust. She purifies stones into souls. From Saint Nicholas to Snow Angel.

MAGICAL QUEEN SNOWHITE

In conclusion, Weiss's design describes her evolution in three ways:

She goes from being a snowflake (derogatory) to being a snowflake (unique)

She grows from a princess into a queen

She leaves the Snow Queen behind and becomes Snowhite

This refinement process is nothing, but her magical girl transformation.

[random-brushstrokes]

Louise Catherine Breslau - Contre-jour (1887)

Madeleine Zillhardt (June 10, 1863 in Saint-Quentin, France – April 16, 1950 in Neuilly-sur-Seine, France) was a French artist, writer, decorator and painter. Her life and her career are linked to another artist, the German-Swiss painter Louise Catherine Breslau, of whom she was the companion, the muse and the inspirer. They lived together for more than forty years, a life turned towards arts.

In 1884. Zillhardt asked Breslau to make her portrait. They would not leave each other and moved permanently together in 1886. In 1887, Breslau performs 'Contre Jour', one of her masterpieces, representing the couple she formed with Zillhardt in their intimacy. The painting was bought by the Swiss government in 1896, and is today held by the Museum of Fine Arts Bern.

Louise Catherine Breslau - La Toilette (Madeleine Zillhardt), 1898

In 1928, Zillhardt bought the concrete barge 'Liège' in Paris in order to make it available to the Salvation Army. With the support of Winnaretta Singer, princesse de Polignac and heiress of the company of sewing machines Singer, the barge was rehabilitated by Le Corbusier in 1929, with his student, Japonese architect Kunio Maekawa. According to the will of Madeleine Zillhardt, the boat took the name Louise-Catherine in tribute to Breslau and became a refuge for the homeless in winter and a summer camp for children, moored in Paris on the banks of the Seine, at the Pont des Arts and at the Pont d'Austerlitz. (source)

Louise C. Breslau, Sous la lampe. Portrait de Madeleine Zillhardt  || Louise Breslau, Self portrait (1891)

[hazyange1s]

MC: Diana Blackwine

Basics

Full name: Diana Seren Blackwine

Nicknames: Di, D

Gender: female

Species: witch (and technically a starseed but that’s on the DL)

Date of birth: February 2, 1875

Nationality: Scottish and Welsh

Blood status: pureblood

Wand: vine, phoenix feather, 10 1/2 in, supple

Appearance

Hair color: jet black

Hair style: worn down in loose curls or in half-up styles

Eye color: teal

Skin tone: pale/peachy

Height: 5’2”

Body type: petite

Clothing style: rich jewel tones and cool shades (blue, purple, silver), smooth and light fabrics (satin, silk, cotton)

Accessories:

Blackwine family ring

moonstone necklace (gifted to her by Ominis)

scarf lover…like, a whole collection

Other distinguishing features:

scar over the bridge of her nose (from an inferi in the catacombs the night of Solomon’s death)

light freckles over her nose and cheeks

star shaped birthmark on her wrist

Personality

Traits: artistic, compassionate, spiritual, wise, diplomatic, indecisive, absentminded, self-righteous, people pleaser

Likes: sweets, winter, classical composers, art, theory, random acts of kindness

Dislikes: yellow, frogs, closed-mindedness, being forced to act on a whim

Fears: loss (of loved ones, of herself), change, small spaces, FROGS

Hobbies: painting, violin, stargazing, cartography

MBTI: INFJ-T

Enneagram: 5w6 (592) so/sx

Zodiac: aquarius sun, pisces moon, libra rising

Temperament: phlegmatic

Archetype: The Sage

Similar characters: Feyre Archeron, Belle (Beauty and the Beast), Katara, Luna Lovegood, Sam Winchester

Family/Friends

Father: Bennett Blackwine

Retired Unspeakable —> astronomer

Pureblood wizard

Killed during a home break in when Diana was 14

Ravenclaw alumnus

Mother: Guinevere Blackwine (Faughn)

Pureblood witch

Portrait painter and poet

Killed alongside Diana’s father

Slytherin alumnus

Aunt/Guardian: Celeste Blackwine

Pureblood witch

Owns a clothing shop

Ravenclaw alumnus

Pet: Saoirse

Scottish fold

Gifted on her thirteenth birthday

Loves Ominis’s cat Phoebe, lounging in the common room, and annoying Raegan’s Phoenix

Friends:

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Raegan DesRosiers

Poppy Sweeting

Amit Thakkar

Samantha Dale

Magic

Boggart: two cloaked figures

Patronus: black mare

Polyjuice: turns shimmering indigo and tastes like blueberry syrup

Amortentia: Jasmine, chamomile, dark chocolate, and paint

Special abilities:

Ancient magic - especially gifted in weather spells (don’t mind the sudden thunderstorm over the castle… she’s just having a bad day.)

Seer (receives most of her prophecies through dreams, but is also skilled at tarotmancy and osteomancy as well as astrology)

Backstory

Born on the Isle of Skye in Glen Sligachan, Scotland, Diana was raised as the only daughter and heiress to the Blackwine fortune; a family of the sacred 28. She often traveled with her parents, as their lines of work took them all over Great Britain and Northern Europe.

When Diana was around age seven, her governess began to report frequent distractions, being late to lessons, and speaking out of turn - which caused her parents concern. She was believed to have a behavioral disorder and was promptly given a slew of experimental drugs to remedy it… with no luck.

Her father was patient and understanding, while her mother was a different story; especially when Diana grew older and still showed no signs of possessing magic.

When Diana was fifteen, her manor was broken into in the middle of the night. By the time she awoke to the sound of screams and made it to the study, her parents were both dead - and the murderers gone. This is the trigger for her magic to be awakened, which shatters every piece of glass in the room the moment she finds them. The case remains unsolved for many years.

But she gets her Hogwarts letter (as Raegan did) just after the funeral, and finds hope in what’s to come despite the horrors that follow her.

Academics

Best subject: Divination

Favorite subject(s): Astronomy. Divination, and Charms

Favorite teacher: Onai

Worst subject: Potions

Favorite subject(s): Astronomy and Divination

Least favorite teacher: Shah “asTroNoMy is nOT dIVInaTIOn”

Quidditch: Seeker in seventh year (voluntold to play by Raegan)

As a student:

Teacher’s pet without even trying to be

Late to almost every class and has too much missed Potions homework to count

Miraculously avoids most trouble (it’s not miraculous, her friends just take the detentions for her)

Future

Career: Astronomy Professor and Seer

Diana goes back and forth for a long time on her career choice - wanting to stay true to herself and help others at the same time. So, she winds up following in her father’s footsteps, and becomes the new Astronomy professor once Shah retires. She also takes over for Professor Hecat as the Head of Ravenclaw house (quite fitting). On the side (and when she eventually leaves Hogwarts for good), Diana is known to help local residents by offering Divination services such as tarot readings and osteomancy - and her predictions, when they come.

Spouse: Ominis Gaunt (m. 1896)

[meerawrites]

Share 10 facts about your OC!

I have so many, hmm.. I’ve already done my scandalous sex worker, rococo, late 18th century coquette, Audrey. X

Thank you, @arrthurpendragon. 💞

Here it goes: my first oc, ever, Catherine, also findable… here.

1. Haitian Creole, Black and Eastern European (Polish and Russian).

2. Born June 26, 1804 turned in a winter in the 1830s in New Orleans Louisiana, by a certain French thespian and disgraced bi blonde aristocrat of the late 18th century’s ancien regime. Lilian. (Yes Lilian is based on Lestat de Lioncourt 🤷‍♀️). Move over Lord Ruthven!

3. Fluent in 4 languages, piano forte, dance, a diplomat and should’ve been Princess if her fathers noble title wasn’t challenged by changing times. Prefers diplomacy, can use a sword and a musket/rifle. Stole her fathers cavalry sword before running away with Lilian.

4. Bi-Demisexual (Gray ace)-polyam. Cis female (she/her).

5. Religiously Haitian Vodou, culturally Eastern Orthodox Christian.

6. Turned my self insert Marian in 1922. BFFs with Marian’s ex boyfriend Oscar, a werewolf.

7. An endearing sense of ingenue-ness and hope about her despite 100+ years of vampirism, as juxtaposed with Audrey, for example.

8. Full legal first name is Ekaterina. She prefers Catherine and only Catherine, “Cat” or “chérie” will gain you a haughty laugh and the subtlest of side eyes.

9. An heiress and free person of global majority (colour) through her maman, Noëlle, Nikolai “Kolya,” her father is most substantially broke, but possessing title.

10. My first original character ever and still going. Based of Dido Elizabeth Belle but, shares a handful of similarities with AMC’s Louis de Pointe du Lac, and Anne Rice’s Merrick Mayfair.

Haitian Vodou the short version.

Haitian Vodou Wikipedia.

Eastern Orthodox Christianity.

Polish Haitians.

[sarahshoots1st]

RWBY Characters as Tarot Cards

01. The Magician - Weiss

The Magician is a figure associated with creativity and limitless possibilities. Traditionally depicted with a wand raised towards the sky, the Magician forms a bridge between the heavens and the earth, connecting the supernatural to the natural. Channeling the raw elements of creation itself, this figure is capable of radical self-determinism and limitless possibilities. And what better RWBY character to represent this archetype than Weiss, errant Schnee heiress and God’s favorite princess.

Weiss’ primary character arc involves forging a destiny for herself outside the oppressive clutches of her father, Jacque Schnee. Rejecting the comfortable life of a noble socialite, she sets out to become a Huntress, directly defying her father’s wishes. Though its status in the canon is questionable, the first episode of RWBY: Ice Queendom implies that Weiss’ iconic battle with the Arma Gigas in the White Trailer was specifically meant to decide whether or not she would even be allowed to attend Beacon Academy. Even before receiving formal combat training, Weiss had to literally fight for the life she wanted.

But of course, Weiss is no ordinary fighter. Her signature fighting style revolves heavily around the use of Dust, a resource she has plenty of access to as a member of the Schnee family. Viewed through the lens of RPG terminology, Weiss fills the role of a caster in team RWBY, capable of unleashing offensive elemental attacks or supporting her allies through the use of her Glyphs.

The theme of Dust is important for Weiss' character, for it relates directly to her status as heiress to the SDC. Though she ultimately turns her back on that position, it is clear that her ties to the Schnee family have not been completely severed. Rather than completely distancing herself like her older sister Winter, Weiss is determined to salvage what she can of her family's legacy. She frequently expresses dismay and outrage at Jacques' business practices and political maneuvering throughout the Atlas arc, and her monologue to the Herbalist in V9 E4 makes it clear that she intends to redefine her family's name rather than simply abandoning it. In this, Dust serves as both the means and the ends of her personal journey: it fuels her path away from her family's history by allowing her to serve as a Huntress, but it also connects her to that same history.

Much as Dust connects Weiss to her family's legacy, it also connects her with the archetype of the Magician. Though the show goes to great lengths to emphasize the difference between Dust and the “true” magic of prehistoric Remnant, the practical effects are the same - they both provide the user with the ability to create supernatural effects by channeling the raw elemental forces of creation. Likewise, historical “magicians” of our world were not so much wielders of magic as those who dabbled in forces most could not understand. Before our modern understanding of science and nature, herbalists, chemists, and astronomers were all viewed with an air of mistrust by many clergy and commoners who saw their practices as tampering with the mystical arcane. To practice these arts was to face ostracism from greater society - just as Weiss faced ostracism from her family for becoming a Huntress.

Over the course of the show, Weiss has already undergone great personal change. Once cold and distant, she has grown comfortable expressing herself around whom she trusts. Team RWBY has in many ways become the family she never had as a child, a place where her icy facade can melt in the warmth of acceptance. She still bears the marks of a noble upbringing, displaying a grace and elegance that many of her more rambunctious allies lack. But her refined bearing has become an expression of personal identity, rather than a barrier meant to keep others away. Her snarky comments and snobbish standards have become endearing to both her fans and her comrades - oftentimes becoming a point of comedic relief as the normally unflappable Weiss attempts to make sense of the comically absurd situations team RWBY finds themselves in.

Even though Weiss has already undergone radical change over the course of the show, in many ways her journey is only beginning. Every day of her life is a chance to redefine her family’s legacy and undo the harm her father did. It is worth noting that Weiss never gives specifics on what she intends to do with her new-found freedom. She will be a Huntress, yes - but that has always been a role that could take many forms, even before the world-order began to crumble under Salem's assault. Will she focus her efforts on defending the innocent from the Grimm? Reforming Atlas' political structure? Enacting reparations towards the Faunus for the injustices committed against them? All of the above? The question is left open-ended. Ultimately, the important thing is that Weiss has reached the point where she gets to be defined by her own actions, rather than those of her family. Each day brings with it limitless possibility to reshape herself and her identity as a Schnee. That is Weiss’ ultimate triumph - the triumph of the Magician.

For the card art, the emphasis would be on Myrtenaster, both as a symbol of her own personal identity and as a classical representation of the Magician's power. Though shaped like a dueling rapier, the weapon is designed to be a wand first and a blade second. The weapon’s hilt contains a revolving chamber of Dust cartridges, and Weiss uses these to empower her Semblance - much like the quintessential depiction of the Magician channeling the power of the Four Elements. Weiss would be holding the blade high, tip pointed to the sky, as she is ready to summon her Glyphs and reshape her own destiny.

Previous Next

[ehrenfest]

Fanbook Four's Short Story

Is about Judithe developing mana sensing. This is just a summary of it made with the help of machine translation, so take everything with a grain of salt.

~~*~~

Judithe is studying with other apprentice knights in the dormitory common room when all of a sudden it happens. She describes it as feeling noisy around her, or like a strange gaze is on her. She is suddenly very aware that some of the people around her have a strong presence and others a very weak one. It’s so uncomfortable it gives her goosebumps.

It hits her that this is mana sensing. Feeling shocked and embarrassed, she abruptly stands up and leaves without a word to anyone.

Being confused she tries to talk to her adult attendant, Frederika. Though she's unable to get the words out, when Frederika touches her the older woman realizes what’s happened and congratulates her.

Mana sensing is a secondary sexual characteristic for nobles that manifests sometime between the ages of 10 and 15. It allows you to sense who is within range for you to have children. But it also allows others to sense you, and creates the impression that you are ready to start looking for a marriage partner.

Judithe expresses her discomfort, “It feels like everyone is watching me, and I can’t calm down.”

Her attendant says she’ll get used to it soon. But if she really can’t stand it, going into her hidden room will block out the presence of others. Although, if you stay in there you’ll never adjust.

Frederika seems happy as she talks about informing Judithe’s parents and how she’ll have to seriously consider her marriage partner now.

Making up an excuse, Judithe leaves, since she doesn’t feel like she can show how bothered she really is in front of her attendant.

Leonore spots her in the hallway. She went looking for her after Judithe left the common room so suddenly. The younger girl is relieved that she can’t sense Leonore’s mana, and awkwardly explains that she developed mana sensing.

Leonore immediately understands, it’s very unsettling until you get used to it. She asks if Judithe wants to go to Rozemyne’s retainer room for a consultation? Since their master isn't here, and only female retainers can enter, that should be a more comfortable place for her.

She sends Judithe on ahead, while she explains things to the knight apprentices and calls the others girls to come.

Brunhilde, Leonore, Lieseleta and Philine all arrive shortly. 

Judithe is particularly worried about how long it will be before she gets used to it. Brunhilde says it takes around ten days to adjust to mana sensing. Although Leonore mentions she got comfortable with it after only five. Lieseleta lets her know that for the first three days or so other people won’t be able to sense her mana, so she doesn’t have to be so self-conscious. The mana she emits is still unstable, meaning unless others are close enough to touch her they won’t sense anything.

They confirm that even though she can sense Lieseleta, Lieseleta can’t feel her, except when she touches her.

Normally your mother would teach you these things, but since she’s currently at the Royal Academy it’s hard to talk to her. Brunhilde says that, though she could go home for a bit once she finishes her classes, it might be safer not to. If your parents find out, they’ll hold a big celebration, inviting a bunch of gentlemen over to potentially choose a marriage partner from among the candidates. As Judithe is still so uncomfortable, it would be better if she waited until she was more mentally prepared to go back.

That’s what happened to Brunhilde when she developed mana sensing. Leonore confirms that something similar happened to her. Although, because she’s not an heiress like Brunhilde, it wasn’t quite as excessive.

Judithe hopes this celebration is only something archnobles do, but Lieseleta confirms that she will also have to go through one as soon as she returns home. They are usually held during the winter socializing season, when it’s easiest to reach out to relatives and acquaintances.

Judithe hates the very idea and wants to refuse, but is told it’s a rite of passage, necessary for your parents to find a marriage partner for you. And anyway, if her attendant has already contacted her parents they've probably already started preparing.

She asks for details on what exactly happens at this celebration. Turns out, it's a place for a woman who has developed mana sensing to meet unmarried men who have a similar amount of mana. All of those present who have already gone through it found the event uncomfortable, but apparently the men who are invited are just as uncomfortable, so it’s a mutual feeling.

Judithe is exasperated that Philine can just calmly drink tea as though this is someone else’s problem, she'll have to do it soon enough as well!

But Philine points out that she cut off contact with her father, and Rozemyne is currently her guardian. So she doesn’t think she’ll have to go through that kind of celebration.

Judithe immediately considers cutting off ties with her father to avoid the awkwardness. The older girls tell her that even though it’s embarrassing, the celebration means she’s being treated as a family member and a daughter. If the family isn’t planning to marry their daughter officially, or can’t prepare a dowry, etc, then no celebration will be held.

Now Judithe starts worrying about Philine instead, and feels terrible for complaining about having a good position in her family. Philine assures her she’s fine.

One of the other girls mentions that if Judithe’s father already has an engagement candidate in mind, instead of the celebration already mentioned, she’ll have a colour matching and engagement announcement party instead. Does she know if there are any likely candidates?

Judithe hasn’t heard of anyone. The reality of marriage has approached so suddenly as soon as she developed mana sensing, it’s left her in a daze. She tries asking Leonore, who’s soon to be engaged, what exactly are the conditions for deciding on a fiancée, how do you choose?

Leonore can only say that, in her case, the goddess of marriage, Liebeskhilfe, did a good job. She liked Cornelius and their mana levels, status, and faction happened to coincide.

Judithe asks if it’s really just chance? But Lieseleta says that there isn't really a better answer Leonore could have given her. Marriage conditions are different for each class and depend on the circumstances of each family.

So, Judithe looks to Lieseleta, hoping to find more useful info from a fellow mednoble, only to be told that she’s not a good reference either, as she’s the heir to her house. But since Judithe is from a family that isn't particularly associated with any one faction—meaning there aren’t any real restrictions on who she can marry—and she has younger brothers and sisters, so she’d be expected to get married early and leave home, unless her parents are very strange they’ll probably be fine with anyone as long as their mana and status coincide.

Lieseleta needs someone to marry into her family, she also wants a partner who can support the archducal couple alongside her, in the same way her parents do. Brunhilde and Leonore mention that as Leisegangs they would absolutely not be allowed to marry any of Wilfried’s retainers or members of the former Veronica faction. As they talk about hopefully closing the distance between factions in the future, Judithe thinks that maybe it’s because Kirnberger is out of step with factions, but she’s never really been conscious of them growing up. And since Veronica lost power and relationships have improved, not to mention Rozemyne's minimal awareness of factions, Judithe has just continued to be ignorant of them.

Worried that maybe this makes her unqualified to serve a member of the archducal family, she quickly tries to convince herself that it’s not that she's totally unaware of the tension between factions, it’s just that she doesn’t have the sharpened sense of it like Brunhilde and the others.

Philine asks Brunhilde if she also has to take into consideration her father’s intentions just like Lieseleta, since she’s an heir too, right? Brunhilde smiles vaguely saying, “Well, for an heir, their parent’s intentions are important.” She continues on that the most important quality in a marriage partner for her is that they're good for Groschel. So she can’t choose someone based on feelings alone.

Judithe thinks about how heavy the responsibilities are for a Giebe’s daughter and an heir. She appreciates how easy and free of responsibility her position is by comparison. Saying something to that effect to Philine, she expects to get agreement.

However Philine mentions instead that she also intends to take over her house in the future. With Konrad in the orphanage, she’s the only one who can. At least, she has no intention to hand over her mother’s inheritance to her father and Jonsara. So, while her parent’s intentions are irrelevant, she does need a spouse willing to marry into her house.

Judithe is shocked that the younger Philine, who can’t even sense mana yet, is already thinking about her marriage prospects. She's devastated at her own carefree attitude.

The other girls, knowing Philine’s feelings, begin to tease her. Bringing up how Damuel, a second son who is out of the line of inheritance, seems like a perfect match for her, so long as she works hard to raise her mana to match his.

Philine blushes but says, “Even if it’s convenient for me, I don’t think Damuel will take notice of a child like me… So I want to start sensing mana as soon as possible.”

Judithe can’t believe she wants to put herself in such an embarrassing and unsettling situation. But Philine is firm that it is what she wants. Once she can sense mana she’ll be aware whether or not she’s within Damuel’s range. And maybe he’ll be a little more conscious of her as a woman. Developing mana sensing will change things, but she wants those things to change.

Everyone else is thinking about their futures, and Judithe is depressed that she’s the only one who’s thoughtless. The girls continue talking about Philine’s future partner until, embarrassed, she reminds them they're supposed to be talking about Judithe right now.

So everyone starts asking Judithe questions instead. What does she want out of a marriage partner? Will she return to Kirnberger after marriage? Does she want to go back to serving Rozemyne after raising children? It might be better to marry someone in the Nobles Quarter in that case.

Embarrassed by the attention, and not having considered these before, Judithe can’t give any answers. But as an aide to Rozemyne she doesn’t want to just say, “I haven’t thought about it.”

While drinking tea to stall for time and trying to figure out how to dodge the questions, an ordonnaz for Leonore flies in. It's from Cornelius, asking her to come help teach the knight apprentices, as there’s some class work for next year he doesn’t get. Leonore asks if Judithe is ready to go back to the common room with her.

She found her escape, but at a cost. Instead she's half-forced to spend an uneasy time in the common room. But maybe because of that, she adjusted to mana sensing quite quickly. After only three days.

[golden-kingdom]

And the Season Feels New to Me Because You're Here - Part 1

Written for the 12 Days of Rowaelin: First Holiday Season Together (@rowaelinscourt)

Summary: A month before Christmas, rich hotel heiress Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is running away from her future after a fight with her father and hides at a resort in the Staghorn Mountains. When she has a ski accident and hits her head, she loses her memory and nobody knows who she is. Rowan Whitethorn is a widower who owns a small inn in town and father to 6-year-old Thalia. When, after much insistence from his daughter, Rowan offers Aelin a place to stay, the two have to spend time together against their will. Rowan cannot stand spoiled and self-centered Aelin, and Aelin hates how cold and guarded Rowan is. Thalia thinks it would take a Christmas miracle for them to finally get along.

Inspired by Falling for Christmas (2022)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

She was sitting in a cozy living room. There was a fireplace burning bright, plunging the room in shades of warm orange. Snow was falling outside the windows. There was a beautiful blonde woman smiling at her. She looked like an angel. Her turquoise eyes lined with gold crinkled when she laughed at something. Her laugh was soft and musical. She was speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying. The woman sat behind her and started brushing her hair slowly. There was tenderness and love in the movement. As the woman ran the brush through her hair, she felt at peace. Like everything was alright in the world and nothing could hurt her…

"Miss?"

There was someone calling her, but she didn’t want to leave this place. She wanted to stay with the golden-haired woman.

"Miss?"

Aelin startled awake from her dream and opened her eyes. There was a middle-aged woman standing next to her looking at her expectantly. She took in her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was.

"I’m sorry I didn’t want to wake you up, but we’re gonna land soon," said the woman she now recognized as a flight attendant.

"Thank you," Aelin replied with a groggy voice. The woman nodded and left.

Aelin yawned and stretched her limbs. She looked through the small airplane window and saw the Staghorn Mountains standing high, their peaks covered in snow. Aelin was from Orynth, the capital of Terrassen, so she was used to the view of the mountains and the snow every winter. But from up here, it looked different than in the city. More peaceful and quiet. Like nothing could affect her. Here in the air, high above the mountains, she wasn’t the heiress of Galathynius Hotels & Resorts, the biggest hotel chain on the continent, she was just Aelin. And she liked it.

The peace she was feeling vanished instantly when she remembered why she was on this plane in the first place. She had a fight with her father. He wanted her to take on more responsibilities with the company. He wanted her to be the future of the Galathynius hotels. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t know how to tell him that she had no interest in the hotel business. At 26, Aelin still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, but she knew exactly what she didn’t want to do. Business meetings, schmoozing with possible investors, new ventures, wearing a suit every day, merges, being only recognized for her name… That wasn’t what she had in mind when she thought of her future.

After the argument with her father, she had decided to run away to a ski resort in the Staghorns for a few days. She needed to get away from her life for a while and think. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, not even her cousin Aedion who was like a brother to her. He wouldn’t understand. He was the pride and joy of her father Rhoe. Aedion had always wanted to work for the company. As soon as he got his MBA from Adarlan University, he started working for Rhoe and he had only advanced in the company ever since. He took his role very seriously. No, he definitely wouldn’t have understood how she felt.

The plane landed and she got out, carrying her luggage. She needed to find a taxi. Normally, she would have had a chauffeur waiting for her, but since she didn’t warn anyone she was coming, she was stuck taking a cab. She told the driver the name of the ski resort and he drove off. She looked around at the small town she had landed in, Summit Springs. It was a far cry from the skyscrapers, luxury, and busy streets of Orynth, but it was charming in a simple way she guessed. Christmas was coming in four weeks and people had started putting lights on their houses and decorations on their front yards. It was a lovely sight in the dark of the night.

After a drive that led them away from the town and further into the mountains, she finally arrived at the ski resort. The driver helped her get her luggage out of the trunk and a porter quickly arrived to pick them up. She paid the driver and entered the resort’s reception. She smiled at the sight. She had come here once before to celebrate Christmas with her family when she was about eight years old, and she had fond memories of the place. She walked towards the reception desk.

"Hi and welcome to Staghorn Mountains resort. Do you have a reservation?" asked a kind-looking woman.

"Yes, I do. It’s under the name of Lilian Gordaina."

Aelin had decided it was better to use an alias to not be recognized. She wanted to be someone else than Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and everything that came with that name for a few days.

"Ah, yes. Your suite is ready, Miss Gordaina. Here’s your key. Luca here will help you with your luggage and show you to your room. We hope you have an excellent stay at Staghorn Mountains resort. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask for it. We want you to have the most enjoyable experience while you’re here," said the receptionist with a sweet smile.

Aelin quickly thanked her and followed the porter to the elevator. When they got to the fourth floor, he showed her to her room and carried her luggage inside. He put it down in front of the massive bed.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Gordaina?" he asked. He looked young, probably no older than 20. But he did his job well.

"Actually, yes. I’d like to have a bottle of champagne brought to my room please. And you can bring whatever was on the chef’s menu tonight, I haven’t eaten yet and I’m famished. Please take note that I don’t eat pork though," she replied.

"Of course. We will bring this to you as soon as possible."

He exited the room and Aelin laid on the bed, sighing contentedly. She had almost fallen asleep when a knock was heard at the door. Luca was back with a rolling tray. There was a bottle of champagne and a warm meal that smelled delicious on it. He set everything on the table of her suite, opened the bottle of champagne and poured her a glass. She thanked him as he left again.

She took a sip of champagne, enjoying the bubbles on her tongue, and started eating her meal. She hadn’t lied when she said she was famished and this was very good. After she was done eating, she ran herself a bath with scented oils and bubbles. The bathtub was big enough for three of her. She got inside and relished in the warmth. She laid there in the water for a few minutes, not thinking about anything, and sipping champagne in the calming silence. When she had finished the whole bottle, she washed herself and got out. She wrapped her naked body in a big fluffy towel. Once she was dry, she went to her luggage and took out a dark blue silk nightgown and a robe that matched. She put it on and got into the bed, appreciating the comfort of the pillows and the softness of the sheets. It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep.

…

The next day, she woke up late. She liked sleeping in and waking up when the sun was already up in the sky. As she ordered breakfast through room service, she decided that she wanted to ski today. After getting dressed in a top-of-the-line ski coat and pants, she left for the slopes.

She wasn’t really into sports, but she loved skiing. It made her feel free and she liked the rush of it. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the snow was perfect for skiing. She made her way up and down the slopes a few times, taken in the view in front of her. She could almost see Orynth in the distance. It was a good decision to come here she thought to herself.

As she was gliding down the slope with agility, she suddenly felt a patch of ice she hadn’t noticed. She tried to come to a stop but she slipped and lost control of her skis. She fell forward and felt her body roll down the hill until she hit a tree with a loud thump and the world went completely dark.

…

Rowan Whitethorn was not having a good day. Another thing had broken down at the lodge and he had to repair it. It seemed like that’s all he was doing recently, repairing stuff. It felt like the place was falling apart, and with less and less guests coming every year, he couldn’t afford to renovate the North Star. People now preferred Airbnb and luxurious hotels over simple bed and breakfast like his own. They also tended to travel to bigger cities than Summit Springs.

He had a hard time making ends meet lately. He was lucky to have good friends to help him take care of the place, but what he really needed was money. He had already gone to the bank to get another loan, but they had rejected his request when they looked into the lodge’s accounts. They said he didn’t make enough profit at the moment for them to take a risk on his business. He was at an impasse, and he didn’t know what to do.

As he was finishing repairing what had broken down, his phone started ringing. It wasn’t from a number he knew.

"Hello?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hi, am I speaking with Thalia Whitethorn’s father?" said a voice he didn’t recognize.

Immediately, he started to fear the worst.

"Yes. Is something wrong with her?" he asked with a concerned voice.

"I’m calling you to inform you that Thalia had an accident at school earlier and was brought here to Summit Springs’ hospital."

"What happened? Is she okay?!" he asked, dread taking over him.

"She’s fine right now, but we need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible."

"I’m on my way," he said and hung up, not even bothering to say goodbye.

If something had happened to his daughter, he would never forgive himself. He was supposed to protect her and keep her safe. That was his role as her father. He couldn’t fail her when he was the only thing she had in this world. His mind was running a mile a minute. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and called his friend Lorcan to come oversee the lodge while he was gone. He didn’t even wait for him to arrive, he just got into his truck and left. He sped up on the way to the hospital. The last thing he wanted was to get a ticket, but he couldn’t help himself. He just wanted to get to his daughter as quickly as possible. When he finally arrived at the hospital, he parked his truck and ran inside.

"I’m here to see Thalia Whitethorn. I’m her father," he said, out of breath.

"Oh right, she’s in room 9. This way. She’s waiting for you," said the woman at the reception, pointing towards a corridor.

He thanked her and went the way she had indicated, looking at the number on the doors until he reached number 9.

…

Aelin was feeling terrible. Her head was hurting, and she was in pain all over her body. She tried opening her eyes but closed them as soon as she did. Who had decided to turn on the light so bright? Her head was pounding in her ears. She tried to listen to figure out where she was, but all she was hearing the constant annoying beeping of a machine. She took a deep breath and braced herself, opening her eyes again. The light still hurt her eyes, but it was more bearable this time. She looked around and realized she was laying in bed in what looked like a hospital room.

"Are you awake?" asked a child voice coming from her left.

She turned her head, hissing at the pain, and saw a young girl with brown hair and deep green eyes looking at her with interest from the bed next to her. She looked around five or six years old.

"Where are we?" Aelin asked the girl, trying to make sense of the situation she was in.

"At Summit Springs’ hospital," she replied, and that’s when Aelin noticed the cast on her right arm.

"I have no idea where that is," Aelin admitted, confused.

A woman in a white coat appeared inside the room. A doctor. Good. She would have answers to her questions.

"You’re finally awake," the doctor said.

"What happened? Where am I?" she asked in one breath.

"Calm down, please. We don’t want you hurting your head further," said the woman while checking out her vitals. She continued: "You had a ski accident and hit your head on a tree. Mountain rescue found you and brought you here at Summit Springs’ hospital. You were out for about three hours," she said in a gentle voice.

"I don’t remember having a ski accident," Aelin said, puzzled.

"You have a mild concussion. It’s normal to be a bit disoriented when you wake up."

She seemed pleased with her vitals and sat down next to Aelin. 

"I’m gonna ask you a few questions now. I need you to answer them to the best of your ability, okay?"

Aelin nodded her agreement and the doctor resumed.

"Do you know who you are?" she asked kindly.

Aelin snorted at that. Of course, she knew who she was, she wasn’t some lunatic.

"Yes, I’m-" she started answering, but she stopped when she realized she didn’t know. What was happening to her? She tried to remember, but everything was slipping away from her.

"Do you remember your name?"

"It’s…" she started again but paused to think.

What was her name? She couldn’t remember. It seemed like she was trying to grasp at some distant memory, but it got away every time she came close to it. Her whole mind felt empty, like a blank slate.

"Do you know where you are?" the doctor continued.

"Summit Springs’ hospital, you just said it," Aelin replied, exasperated.

"Yes, but do you know where that is?" the doctor insisted.

She couldn’t answer that either. She had never heard this name. The confusion must have been written on her face because the woman said: "What do you remember? Take your time to think. Maybe you remember a date, a person, or a childhood memory?"

She thought hard, her head aching like hell, but nothing was coming up in her mind.

"I don’t remember… anything. Why don’t I remember anything?" she said in a small voice.

"When you hit your head on that tree, you suffered a trauma to the brain. I believe that because of that you’re experiencing retrograde amnesia, which means you can’t remember anything that happened before the ski accident," the woman said seriously.

"Is that permanent?" she asked the doctor. She was starting to feel the panic rise in her chest.

"Every case of amnesia is different. A lot of people after an accident like yours recover their memory eventually. But there’s no set time for this. Every case is different. I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. And I understand it’s scary and confusing, but I’m here to answer your questions and help you through this.”

"Will I remember normal things though? Like how to eat?"

"Yes, this is what we call procedural memory. And that shouldn’t be affected because those memories are stored somewhere else in the brain. You should be able to live a relatively normal life."

Yeah, a very normal life with no memory of who she was, she thought.

"Listen, I will go do some check-ups and I will be back. I will give you a few minutes to process this. Is that okay with you?" the doctor said.

Aelin nodded. It’s not like she had anywhere to run off to. The doctor left, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"So, you don’t remember anything at all?" asked the girl next to her with curiosity in her eyes.

"It seems so," Aelin replied, opening her eyes.

"That’s a bummer. But, hey, at least you won’t have to do your homework," she said with an encouraging smile.

The situation was anything but funny, but Aelin couldn’t help but laugh at that. And then proceeded to groan because of the pain in her head.

The door opened and a tall broad-shouldered man with short silver hair, tan skin and the same green eyes as the girl walked in. He looked on the verge of panic.

"Thalia!" he exclaimed as he ran to the girl’s bed.

He hugged her, wrapping her tight in his arms and not letting her go.

"You’re crushing me, daddy," she complained with a laugh.

"I’m sorry. I was so worried, sunshine. Are you okay? What happened?"

"I was playing with Freya and Millie and they said I wouldn’t jump from a huge mound of snow because I was a chicken. I’m not a chicken so I jumped but I hurt my arm. It was really painful and scary, but the nice doctor fixed it and put my arm in a cass and I’m all okay," the girl said as if it was no big deal.

The man exhaled. He seemed to relax a bit, but he was still tense.

"I’m glad you’re okay. But you gotta promise me to never do something dangerous like this again, even if your friends dare you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Do you understand?" he said in a serious tone.

"Yes, I pinky-promise," she replied, holding out her finger. The man linked his own pinky finger with her infinitely smaller one.

"And remind me to have a talk with Freya and Millie’s parents," he added.

"Daddy, do you think my friends at school can sign my cass? I saw it on TV. Please," the girl pleaded with puppy eyes.

Before he could reply, the female doctor from earlier walked back in.

"Mr. Whitethorn?"

"Yes?"

"I’m glad you could make it this fast. Thalia here broke her radius in her forearm. We were able to fix it and then immobilize it with a cast. She will have to keep it for at least four weeks, but she should regain full mobility afterwards."

"Thank you, doctor," he said, relieved.

"I will be back with more information on how to take care of her cast, but I need to see my other patient first."

"Of course, take your time. I’m just thankful my daughter is alright."

The doctor walked over to Aelin’s bed and looked at her with worry.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

"My head is killing me," replied Aelin with a whine.

"That’s normal. It should subside in the next few hours. We gave you pain medication, but I’ll tell them to increase the dosage. But I meant, how are you feeling about what I told you? Do you have any question about your amnesia?"

"To be honest, I don’t know how I feel about all of this... But can I leave now?"

"I’m very sorry, but we weren’t able to locate any family or friends nor find out who you are. We checked the clothes you were wearing when you came in but didn’t find any IDs or phone. You’re gonna have to stay in the hospital until someone comes looking for you or you regain your memories, I’m afraid," the woman replied with a frown.

"What do you mean, stay in the hospital? Am I being detained?" Aelin asked indignantly.

"No, you’re free to leave, but you currently have no identity, no money and no place to go. I’m sorry but it’s best if you stay here for now."

Aelin felt tears pool in her eyes.

"But I don’t wanna stay here. I wanna go home," she said in small voice.

Rowan, by his daughter’s bedside, had heard the whole exchange. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but they were right next to him. Thalia pulled at his coat, trying to grab his attention. He looked down at her.

"Daddy, can the lady who doesn’t remember anything come stay with us? She has nowhere to go and she’s very sad," asked Thalia in a hopeful voice.

Rowan was about to answer with an adamant no, but he saw the hope in Thalia’s big green eyes, and he heard the woman full-on crying by now. He took pity on her.

"Alright, kiddo. We can ask her. But if she says no, you need to respect her wishes."

Thalia gestured that she understood. Rowan approached the other bed slowly, not wanting to frighten the woman.

"Miss?" he asked.

She looked up at him, embarrassed by someone else seeing her crying.

"You could come stay with us. I own a lodge in town and there are plenty of spare rooms right now."

"That’s such a great idea. Thank you, Mr. Whitethorn, this is very kind of you to offer," said the doctor immediately.

Aelin wasn’t so sure about it.

"And who are you exactly?" she asked skeptically.

"I’m Rowan Whitethorn. Like I said I’m the owner of the North Star lodge here in town."

"How do I know this isn’t a trap to murder me?" Aelin asked in a serious tone.

Rowan snorted.

"Mr. Whitethorn over here has owned the North Star lodge for years. You can trust him, he’s a good man. I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the hospital," stated the doctor.

"Is there room service?" Aelin enquired.

"It’s more of a bed and breakfast type of place," Rowan replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Aelin sighed loudly at that.

"On second thought, she’s probably better to stay here," said Rowan, exasperation in his voice.

Aelin was about to agree, but the doctor insisted.

"It will be good for you to live in a regular environment. It’s better than staying here. And maybe re-establishing a normal routine of activity will help you remember."

Aelin looked at the child in the bed next to her who was giving her a big hopeful smile.

"Okay, I’ll go," she said, smiling back at the young girl and ignoring the man.

…

"So, what am I supposed to call you?" asked Thalia.

They had left the hospital a few minutes ago, after the doctor had repeated at least four times that they were to call the hospital if there was anything wrong. They were driving through Summit Springs in Rowan’s truck, Aelin sitting passenger side. She turned around to look at the girl in the backseat. The pain medication the doctor had given her must be working because her head didn’t hurt as much anymore.

"Good question. I don’t know," she replied to child. "Are there any names you love?"

"You can have the name of one of my dolls. They’re called Vesta, Celaena and Petrah."

Aelin heard Rowan snicker next to her. She ignored him.

"I like Celaena," she said after thinking about it. "You can call me that."

Thalia gave her a toothy smile, agreeing with her choice.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the lodge. Its size was modest, it looked more like a very large home than an hotel. The North Star’s walls were made of pale stonework and the brown slate roof was covered in snow. There were two wrought iron balconies hanging from the second floor. In the past, the place might have been called quaint and romantic, but now it looked worn by the time. It wasn’t that it was ugly, it had its own unique rustic charm, but the place could definitely use a few renovations. It had been covered in Christmas lights for the season.

Aelin followed Rowan and Thalia inside. The little girl immediately ran up the wooden stairs and disappeared in what Aelin guessed was her bedroom. The inside of the lodge was not faring much better than the outside. The cream walls desperately needed a coat of paint, and the floor was used by the years. There was a small reception desk to the right and to the left was a cozy-looking lounge with a fireplace and sofas in a faded color. Most of the furniture was made of some type of mahogany wood, but a lot of it was damaged with scratches.

Aelin had stopped to look around and hadn’t noticed Rowan had left until he came back with what looked like a pile of clothes in his hands. He stood in front of her.

"These are clothes from the lost and found. This weekend, I’ll go to the store for you, but for now, these will have to do."

Aelin gave him an offended look.

"Have they been… worn before?"

"They were left behind by guests, so probably, yes," he replied, frustrated.

She gave him a look that meant she’d rather burn them, but she took them anyway. 

"And here are some essentials for tonight," he said as he handed her a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. "You’ll have to make me a list of what you’ll need. There are fresh towels, shampoo and soap in the bathroom of your room."

She stayed quiet, taking the things he handed her.

"Well, I guess I’ll show you to your room," he said to break the awkward silence.

Rowan walked up the stairs and Aelin followed along. He led her to a room on the opposite side of where Thalia had gone. He opened the door and waited for her to enter.

"This is it. I’m gonna head to bed because I have to wake up early tomorrow. If there’s an emergency, my room is on the other side. It’s the one at the end of the corridor."

She nodded and he left her alone in the room. She took a shower and brushed her teeth. Then she looked through the clothes Rowan had given her and found a long sleeping gown made of flannel. Great, she would look like a granny in this. She put it on nevertheless and got into bed. Finally on her own, she had the time to take in what happened to her. She muffled a sob and warm tears wet her pillow. She cried for long minutes, but eventually, she stopped and fell asleep.

Tag list:

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@morganofthewildfire

@leiawritesstories

@fireheart-violet

Tell me if you want to be added or removed!

[oliviaberkeley]

WHEN YOU KNOW WHAT A MAN WANTS YOU KNOW WHO HE IS, AND HOW TO MOVE HIM.                    INTRODUCTION — THE MANIPULATIVE — OLIVIA BERKELEY.

[ MARGOT ROBBIE — thirty’6 — SHE/HER ]  Introducing OLIVIA BERKELEY. Word on the street is they are a HOUSEWIFE & HEIRESS, having been around for THIRTY-SIX years. Though they are PROUD and MANIPULATIVE, they can also be ARTICULATE and INTREPID. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.

CHARACTER STATISTICS

— GENERAL.

Full Name: Olivia Audrey Berkeley, neé Madden. Nickname(s): Liv. Age: 36. Date of Birth:  June 13th, 1987. Hometown: New York, NY. Current Location: Albany, NY. Ethnicity: Scottish, French. Nationality: American. Gender: Female. Pronouns: She/Her. Orientation: Heterosexual. Relationship Status: Married to Julian Berkeley. Religion: Catholic. Political Affiliation: Democratic. Occupation: Proud housewife, mother and philanthropist. She has done modeling gigs since she was a teenager as well and regularly appears as the cover model on some of the biggest and most influential magazine covers till this day. Living Arrangements: The New York State Executive Mansion.  Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish, conversational French & Italian.

— PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Faceclaim: Margot Robbie. Hair Colour: Blonde hair that falls down to the small of her back; naturally dark brown. Hair Texture:  Thick, wavy, soft. Eye Colour: Blue.  Height: 5′7″. Weight: 126lbs. Build: In shape — toned and curvaceous. Tattoos: None. Piercings: Earlobes. Usual Expression: Amiable, welcoming. Distinguishing Characteristics:  Eyes, full lips, long legs ( everything ).

— HEALTH.

Physical Ailments: None. Neurological Conditions: PTSD, Anxiety. Allergies: Penicillin. Sleeping Habits: Tends to sleep very well actually. Olivia is extremely disciplined and has a set schedule throughout her day; for her, rest is very integral. She’s in bed usually no later than 10pm ( save for the nights she has work, or various appearances to make ) and wakes up at 4am every morning, no exceptions. Eating Habits: Strict diet to maintain her health and figure, allows a cheat day on Sundays only. Exercise Habits: Exercises five days a week two-a-days. Mornings is focused on yoga, evenings are at the home gym.  Emotional Stability: Steady, strong; she knows who she is and that has helped her quite a bit. Sociability: Very social, can light up a room. Body Temperature: Hot. Addictions: None. Drug Use: None. Alcohol Use: Socially mostly, she’ll have a scotch or wine at home if stressed or if she’s in the mood to get a little tipsy. Prefers to be in control of her faculties otherwise when in public.

— PERSONALITY.

Label: The Manipulative. Positive Traits: Self-disciplined, charming, active, reliable, intrepid, intelligent, compassionate, efficient, articulate, perceptive, ambitious. Negative Traits: Critical, sneaky, capricious, cunning, fierce, proud, manipulative, amoral, audacious, materialistic. Desires: To always be able to provide for her family and even those in need; to have power. Fears:  Losing everything she built ( especially her family and Julian ), not having control.

— FAVORITES.

Weather: Winter. Landscape: Beaches. Color: Royal blue. Music: Alternative rock, some pop, old school hip hop and R&B, Rap, anything that catches her attention really. Movies: Thrillers, rom-coms, action films, horror, documentaries. Sport: None. Beverage: Lemon water. Food:  Sushi. Animal: Cats, dogs.

— FAMILY.

Father: William Madden ( alive; 94 ). Mother:  Bonnie O’Hara ( alive; 59 ), step-mothers; Cynthia Madden ( first ex-wife; deceased ), Elizabeth Madden ( second ex-wife; alive ), Persephone Madden ( third ex-wife; alive ). Upbringing: Chaotic, cold, overly extravagant, lonely, anxious. Sibling(s): half siblings; Christian Madden ( older; alive ), Jean Madden ( older; alive ), Helena Madden ( older; deceased ), Timothy Madden ( older;  alive ), Frances Madden ( older; alive ), Dina Madden ( older; alive ), Belle Madden ( older; alive ), Victor Madden ( older; alive ), Willian Madden, Jr. ( older;  alive ), Easton Madden ( older;  alive ), full sibling; Lachlan Madden ( older; alive ). Children: Two — Lucas and Camila Berkeley. Pet(s): No, but definitely wants one. Family’s Financial Status: High end. Self Financial Status: High end.

— EXTRA.

Zodiac Sign:  Gemini Sun, Capricorn Moon, Sagittarius Rising. MBTI: ENTJ. Primary Vice: Gluttony. Primary Virtue: Perseverance.

— STRENGTHS.

Mature; dignified; meticulously put together; responsible and reliable.

Discreet; a creative problem solver; a mostly ethical player of the political game.

A potent schmoozer; charming; pleasant sense of humor; well-spoken; polite.

Quietly authoritative; powerful; always projects confidence and control to others.

Focused; objective; does not second guess herself.

Sly; manipulative; perceptive; has a very specific reason for every decision she makes.

Worldly; lived in many cultures in many corners of the world; adapts to change quickly; self-sufficient and independent.

Graceful – moves fluidly and with effortless balance, even when not dancing.

Work ethic and dedication – “needs” stimulation of some kind constantly; keeps to a rigid schedule and is never late or absent; gives herself fully to her projects.

— WEAKNESSES.

Defensive; paranoid; frustrated; enraged behind closed doors; typically when blindsided.

Perfectionist; overly image conscious; very private.

Overworked; frequently exhausted; takes on more than she can handle; hyper-vigilant.

Controlling; has difficulty trusting other people to do their job; likes things done her way.

Fickle – in her personal life she can appear very hot and cold; hard to read; guarded due to people wanting to be in her presence for clout and the emotional abuse she suffered from her parents.

Indulgent; does not deny herself anything; frivolous.

Hungry – for inspiration, affection, attention, and power.

OVERVIEW

𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: mentions blackmail, emotional & physical abuse, and obsession.

Despite being the youngest and 11th child, Olivia is a heiress to the Madden family who raised their fortune building railroad and shipping empires during the rapid industrialization expansion of the late 19th century. In more recent decades, the family interest has shifted at the will of its current patriarch, Olivia’s father, towards mass media, real estate, pharmaceuticals, accelerating efforts in space travel, developing environmentally friendly power substitutes, progressing the technological discoveries of the next century and hospitality. Today William is the fourth wealthiest person in the world.

Olivia grew in up a world of extreme and almost outrageous luxury. With a family as affluent as her own, all of her elder siblings being visionaries with enough money and influence to change the world down the line wasn’t unrealistic at all. She also quickly learned that they all fought for “dear old daddy’s” attention and approval to be in his good graces. William, a ninety-four year old man from a completely different era, wasn’t the easiest or morally acceptable. He’d always been a miserable, powerful and stubborn old man with outdated beliefs — especially concerning women’s place in society and the working world in general. His daughters, though six of them, were not absolved from these beliefs and/or treatment most times. But really, his sons didn’t fair very well either from his physical and emotional abuse.

As such, Liv was taught at a very young age from her very ambitious mother how to appeal to her father: listen, perceive, and manipulate. Never show your true emotions as her father preyed on vulnerability. By the time she was a teenager, Olivia had William eating from the palm of her hand. A overly charming, beautiful little girl who acted precocious but knew more than she could ever be given credit for. She didn’t covet the same dreams that her older siblings had, not really wanting anything to do with the company in a career driven sense — however she did know that she wanted to maintain the status, power and luxury that came with being a Madden on her own terms.

As she grew, Olivia paved the way for herself. From a young age her mother emphasized the importance of an education, intending for her to attend university and earn several advanced degrees just to “be safe.” Though she did take her schooling seriously, even pursuing a career in criminal law ( she attended Harvard for a short while; tabloids saying that her father had paid for her to be accepted ), Olivia eventually dropped out and left it behind. Instead, she conceded that perhaps being a housewife wouldn’t be too bad. She’d always wanted family of her own; a nice large home, children running around but, more importantly, she needed someone who was ambitious — powerful like her daddy or who could one day grow to be as such.

Enter Julian. By the time they had met, Olivia had built a reputation for herself due to her glamorous lifestyle and the Madden name in general, which had earned her enduring popularity. However, Julian had built just as much as a reputation himself; and it didn’t hurt that it was all self-earned. ( re: it also didn’t hurt that he looked and commanded a room the way that he did ). The absolute nail in the coffin that secured her interest in him had been him confidently expressing to her that he would be the next President of the United States. They were married that same year; had their first child soon after.

As the years flew by, they continued to conquer the political world together, taking the world by storm. Being featured on various magazine covers, articles, etc. Olivia has created a name for herself as a loving mother and devoted wife, while also known for her luxurious lifestyle, setting fashion trends and for her immense role in various charities; being celebrated for her philanthropy.

tl;dr: she’s a toxic Princess Diana and Real Life Barbie Doll™.

LITTLE THINGS

Definitely resilient and extraordinary, difficult to frighten. Fanatically possessive and controlling of people and things that she considers ‘hers’ and will react violently at the slightest threat — especially where her children and Julian are concerned. She does not have much patience for being told no or being disrespected and has more than once fired, sued, or humiliated others for their failure to bend to her will. Though her father has a penchant for making all of this disappear quietly.

Extremely particular about being touched, especially in intimate areas, that stems from a fear of affection and vulnerability due to her parent's abuse. Before Julian, Liv would react aggressively to any physical contact from strangers, usually in the form of raucous verbal hostility. With friends she is significantly more tolerant though it is dependent on her mood whether she consents or resists. On the occasion that she consents, it is for that person only. Interference from others that were not invited into that freely given self exposure are met with extreme rage and opposition. 

Has no clue that her husband is having an affair or all hell would break loose. She has a very unhealthy obsession with Julian, though, with him she doesn’t portray said toxic tendencies as much with him — preferring to shower him with support, love and affection. They are best friends after all, not just partners in life and love. When they argue ( which isn't much as their interests are often aligned ), she’s become cunning enough to know how to get her way, even if that means conceding for a little while. She maintains her role as the perfect quintessential housewife because of this as well; getting her body back into shape after having their children, expertly maintaining and personally designing their home, making sure that she’s always dressed to the nines, welcoming his work relationships and friends like family of her own, hosting various lavish personal events. Though it’s not terribly far from who she had already been before him, always having her ear out to listen for any important information pertaining to his work. She’d always been focused on her image having such a high profile and all.

A wonderful and extremely attentive mother who is very involved with her children 90% of the time ( basically when she's not out of the state or hosting or doing cover shoots ). Being a mother has changed her significantly for the better.

Consistently followed or hounded by paparazzi. Also almost always in the tabloids. Has been entertaining the idea of starting her own wellness and lifestyle company ( not unlike Goop, but with actual products and treatments that are nourishing and scientifically proven to be as such — ps: fuck Gwyneth Paltrow ). 

Not a horrible person at all, but very morally ambiguous when it suits her needs — so don’t fuck with her. And everything will be fine. ;)

cun·ning [ kəniNG ] ( noun ): skill in achieving one's ends by deceit.

[rinasimss]

KAITLIN MCCAIN

I present to your attention…

🔗KAITLIN MCCAIN

• clean

• music lover

• fun

• neurotic

• creative talent

• low self-esteem

The life goal is a native citizen.

Age – 18 years.

Likes to take pictures, play guitar, cook, anime and manga.

She hates boredom, cleaning diapers for Shana (her dog corgi), lies and winter.

The Myers-Briggs personality type is an intermediary.

The zodiac sign is Sagittarius.

📌• how do you like the heiress?

[ashthehermit]

List of Works:

I'm being a bit serious about the self-promo these days, so it stands to reason that I should have a bit more clarity about what my work is. This is a non-exhaustive list, because I am never writing one book at once. That would be deranged.

WINTER'S CHOSEN - Fantasy, standalone

(planned release September 1st 2024, ARC sign-ups now open)

Winter's Chosen is a low fantasy I wrote primarily because I hate to ski. It came together loosely because of what I learned about the history of alpine skiing while I was refusing to ski in the Alps, though it became more of a fantasy and less historical as time went on.

The story sees Ifry, a clerk, travel to a remote mountain town to help his employer found and build a ski resort for the wealthy to holiday in. The town is unsuitable for many reasons, the first being that it is infested with carnivorous beasts, and the second being that the townsfolk are fervent worshippers of 'Solyon', the god of summer. Ifry seeks help in Jos, the town's hunter, in safely traversing the slopes, unaware that Jos has been chosen this year by Solyon to make a sacrifice that will end the winter.

TANRY TENERI - WIP, fantasy, first in a series

This one is kind of meant for folk who like fantasy with a historical sheen, but that doesn't necessarily have much to do with history, if you get me. It's a 'fantasy of manners', along the lines of the Lord of Stariel, Half a Soul, and other such works.

It's about Tanry Teneri, who unexpectedly becomes heiress to her father's estate. When her father arranges an unwanted marriage, Tanry extracts a deal from him that she can wed her choice, provided that he is higher in rank. Using a device that can tell Tanry absolute truth, she sets out in search of a husband, settling on the Archduke Cezsario, an exile from his home country. Tanry quickly learns that he has secrets of his own, but will stop at nothing to make a match that preserves her freedom.

ABOVE ALL - WIP, YA fantasy, first in a series

England 1860. After being expelled from one finishing school, Beatrix 'Trix' Robinet is sent to a last resort finishing school: Caelestis Abbey, which is magically built on a cloud. Trix attempts to gain friends in her new surroundings, and discover the secret of where her friend Jenny, an angel, vanished to. One night, Trix hears screaming inside of the school chapel, and resolves that there is something more malevolent at foot at the school than she anticipated.

[fvriva]

Whole hog winter 🐽

Vamonos

Thanks for the ask! I missed my girlllll 🥹🥹🥹🥺🥺🥺

Autumn & Vernon | Cy & Newton

send an emoji + an oc (or order the WHOLE HOG)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Winter Carthmarrow in a lot of ways was designed to be alongside Autumn Saffworth, especially back when the project was called Seasonal Depression as a goofy pun as opposed to Animus Vitrum. Carthmarrow combines the bone theme (to go along with Autumn's blood theme) with a sense of destruction and fire (Carthago delenda est).

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

18-21. Her arc is a little longer than Autumn's to finish.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Winter has had a couple over the course of her existence, but I'm currently in the process of reworking hers.

Originally she was meant to be paired with Summer/Midsomnir Titania because they were designed as opposite spirits for each other, but I've been wanting someone more conniving for her ever since playing with @mitspeiler and his girl Elmindreda as her partner. I think based on that, she would do well with someone conniving and devious, but dense and headstrong in her own way.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

She likes salads, wraps, protein bars, and protein shakes/smoothies. Lots of health food that can be eaten pretty quickly and on-the-go. She also likes black coffee.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Winter is currently a magic student that specializes in fire magic. She expects she'll inherit a number of shares in the family business when she comes of age, given that Autumn is pretty much worthless for it and incompetent in the business world. In a modern au she's practically built to be a lawyer as well.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

She has a few but they're not especially enjoyable. Mostly just working out, training, studying, maybe playing an instrument. That sort of thing.

🎯 -What do they do best?

Winter genuinely is very talented at learning new spells quickly. She also has impeccable fashion sense.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

She loves dancing. It's a skill she's cultivated for social/heiress reasons, but she especially loves to teach girls their first ballroom moves.

She hates actually putting up with the male partners she ends up with during those. It takes everything she's got to be civil about it. She also gets easily frustrated in general, as she doesn't take criticism well (even self-directed).

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

It's a memory that's soured since she left home, but one time she was exceptionally good at some milestone or test or competition, and Blanche let her loose at a fancy boutique with the credit card. Her Aunt even bought her something to eat afterwards.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

I think I will keep the duel canon, meaning that after throwing the match because she doesn't want to kill [love interest], Blanche stabs her in a way that will incapacitate but not harm her long-term, with the intent of shipping her off to marry some loathsome political ally.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

It's pretty close! Honestly the only thing that's really changed is the specifics of her dress and her jewelry. Her palette and a lot of her facial features have been pretty set since day 1. The main thing that's changed is her role in the story.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Todoroki from My Hero Academia. Winter was originally born out of a cartoony split-personality au for him before I turned them all into their own characters, and also girls. She's also heavily inspired by the Schnees from RWBY. And my love for hot, mean, misunderstood women.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

I could see her in basically any drama, especially something with a competitive social element like business-themed. However, she's in a high fantasy adventure story currently, on a journey of self-discovery.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Cis lesbian, she/her.

🙌 - How many siblings does your OC have?

No siblings as she was orphaned at a young age. Autumn is her only sister-figure.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Winter was very close with her mother, Rosé, and her father, Enamuel, and they loved her very much. After they died when she was two or so she was taken in by her Aunt Blanche and Uncle Theros, who were always a little distant. It got worse when Autumn was born and they started neglecting her, but it got slightly better as she proved to be very talented where Autumn proved to be somewhat of a dud, magically speaking. It was never very wholesome or supportive of an environment though.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

I like how she's got the mixture of the extreme competence and talent with the utter incompetence when it comes to intimacy and vulnerability. She also SUCKS but I can fix her.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Rather frequently! I used to actively roleplay Winter and I really must say she's one of my favorites. I draw her quite a bit too.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I don't think so. She doesn't get to weasel out of all the shit she's done that easily.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Even with her fire magic, she gets kind of nervous around uncontrolled large fires. She's also scared of intimacy, especially with her internalized homophobia.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Ideally she would have one of each: a rival that pushes her to be better and better that she events falls in love with, and an arch-nemesis shitty betrothed that doesn't care about all that, just wanting to use her for her bloodline.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Since late 2017, so 6ish years.

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

I would've been 16!

[triviareads]

Would you rec some wintery HR? Not christmas

Sure! A lot of these are actually set in the winter but some I'm reccing for the vibes.

Knockout by Sarah MacLean is set in wintertime, and I kinda love the contrast of this cold wintery weather that the main characters are running around in trying solve explosions while the heroine Imogen's personality is super warm and kinda explosive, as is her chemistry with local exasperated cop, Tommy Peck.

The Chasing of Eleanor Vane by Sierra Simone: ugh this one is SO GOOD; Eleanor escapes in the middle of the night to avoid marrying her terrible fiancé and she's cold and rained out when she finds refuge in a cottage BUT THEN her fiancé's hot growly uncle comes after her and they basically spend the entire night making each other warm by the firelight. Perfect winter vibes.

The Lord I Left by Scarlett Peckham: Road trip romance during a blizzard but there's so much more— the hero is a Methodist minister charged with investigating prostitution in London, and the heroine works at a whipping house. There's a lot of religious themes in this book but the dynamic is fabulous.

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe is set during the winter! I did the math and the first few chapters when Nellie first meets Lockwood while skinny dipping is set in June, and the rest is set six months later, and onwards. The heroine is a rebellious American heiress who also provides birth control to the lower classes in her spare time, and the hero is a proper English duke who is actually very much not. These two are actually so hot, and I'd absolutely recommend.

Both Lisa Kleypas's Midnight Angel and Prince of Dreams have Russian main characters and both are partially set in Russia so the vibes are very wintery and harsh in some ways, but both are worth checking out, especially my perennial fave Prince of Dreams.

In Which Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti is set in the winter I believe, and also has a kind-of gothic setting, complete with a creepy house and a hero who everyone thinks killed his first wife and is notorious (he's just kinky).

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas: Self explanatory, there's lots of cuddling for warmth in carriages and hot bricks

If you're looking for quick, satisfying reads, Scarlett Scott's Wicked Winters series is on KU. The premise is that their dad was kind of a whore and so there's a legitimate side and whole illegitimate side that's notorious in the underworld. Lots of bit o' rough heroes, and the family stuff is actually kinda heartwarming all things considered. Perfect for the winter.

I remember Magnate by Joanna Shupe was set in the winter...? It has one of my favorite dynamics that Joanna Shupe also does really well— a bit o rough-type hero turned upstart businessman, and a upper-class woman who's also a bit of a rebel, and in this case wants to start her own investment firm and needs the hero's help.

[peppermint-chocolate-cherries]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Oooh! I saw this fanfiction ask floating around earlier, I'm happy to receive it!

I know I talk a lot about plot bunnies, and have dabbled into character analysis, but the extent of my actual published writing is only four full fanfiction stories on AO3/FFN and two Valentine shorts on Tumblr. So I guess I can share all six.

You must log in to AO3 for the first four links below to work. If not, you can also find them on FFN, my profile is linked on my pinned post. The last two are Tumblr quickies, luckily I was able to find them again.

Absorbing The Deck

Matthew and Alfred are adopted by the Spades Royals when they find the imprints of future Marks on their skin. What will become of the twins when they meet the other Deck Royals? And what is this prophecy everyone is talking about? Cardverse AU, CanLiech, USUK. Spoilers for content warning: almost everyone gets killed off.

The Nefarious Mathilda Jones

Jones Conglomerates Incorporated controls the government. Its runaway heiress seeks to dethrone her brother Alfred, her husband Arthur, and the massive empire. While the mobs keep fleeing from the police, and others have suspicions, only Sergeant Gilbert Bielschmidt knows first-hand that Mathilda is hiding nearby. Crime, drama, mystery, once again a lot of murder and death, a heavy dose of social commentary, inspired by Batman and V for Vendetta, multiple ships.

The English Quixote

Arthur fell asleep in his London flat, and awoke in the kingdom of Ixaidel, in a magical realm far away. To the west, Prathage's civil war ends, but eternal winter remains. To the east, Stulikya's princess plans to overthrow her sister-in-law. As the realm's Don Quixote, Arthur must help correct misdeeds, break spells, and save kingdoms before returning home. Fairy tale satire, magic, LietCan, GerBela, SpaKraine, RusLiech, SwissCzech.

Only Aces Remain

The Aces of the Deck have noticed that something is wrong. They are missing memories, and dream of working with other Royals during a war. The two "Joker" fellows in the mirrors aren't helping, and neither is that sorcerer's soul. Who are they supposed to be working with, and how did only the Aces stay the same? How can they set things straight again, and at what cost? Cardverse, mystery, twisting plot between past and present, political drama. SpaBela, CanLiech, SwissHun.

Discovered

A Valentines Day 2018 one-shot where Arthur and Madeline's secret love affair is revealed to the other nations. Also, Spain is a rat bastard for rigging a bet on why Madeline keeps rejecting everyone else's advances.

Amber & Rue (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

A four-part one-shot from 2020 where Madeline learns on Valentine's Day that she has a secret admirer. After receiving a bouquet of flowers including rue, amber jewelry, and a poem, she meets her admirer for dinner. LietCan, with side pairings of GerBela and SpaKraine.

I'm not one to tag other people on these types of things, but if anyone feels like answering the prompt on their own go for it! Meanwhile, I'll go cross-post my Valentine ficlets to AO3 so that they can be more easily found in the future. After that, I'll continue my fae realm world-building for Damsel Causing Distress, now that my being-reblogged-daily poll is inspiring me to look at it more closely...

[the-weirdos-mind]

And More OCs

Name: Thurio Ahmakish

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class B

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Looks: Brown hair, dark blue eyes with a pair of thin glasses over them, safety goggles on his neck, Caucasian skin, Ignihyde uniform with a lab coat over it, pen with a cyan blue magestone in his pocket, 5’8

Personality: Geeky, nerdy, scientific genius, incompetent schemer, petty, friendly at times, kind at times, overly dramatic, a bit stupid, eccentric and clueless

Signature Spell: Explodinator, allows him to place a self destruct button on anything and the object will self destruct once the button is pushed

Twisted from Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb

~~~~~~~

Name: Cato Sphixeon

Age: 18

Species: Slight mutated human

Class: Junior, Class E

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Pitch black hair in a small man bun, brown eyes with a scar under his right eye, midnight blue skin, Ignihyde uniform with pen in his pocket with a cyan magestone, 5’6

Personality: Childish, petty, nervous, stubborn, cowardly at times, a bit quiet, scientific genius, dense, a bit of a suck up, can be nice when needed, nerdy, inventive

Signature Spell: Not All That, allows him to temporarily turn back time to suit his needs

Twisted from Dr. Drakken from Kim Possible

~~~~~~~~

Name: Fanner Igor

Age: 17

Species: Slight cybernetic-mutated human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: the Island of Woe

Looks: Shoulder length black hair, hazel eyes, somewhat pale skin, metal bionic left arm that stores all his magic, Night Raven Collage uniform with a pen with a blood red magestone, 6’3

Personality: Loyal, brave, honest, self reserved, distant from strangers, elusive, dangerous in a fight, ruthless at times, headstrong and resilient

Twisted from Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier from Marvel

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Stephanie Alcayna

Age: 16

Species: Human

Class: Freshman, Class C

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Long brown hair with a green streak in a ponytail, green eyes, goggles on her head, light tan skin, Night Raven Collage uniform with a dark green magestone, 5’3

Personality: Intelligent, scientific, geeky, understanding, kind, supportive, always willing to help, ruthless when pushed, obsessive at times, manipulative if needed, a bit impulsive

Twisted from Varian from Tangled the Series

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Castor

Age: Five

Species: Mutated human

School: Black Pearl College

Looks: Short pink hair, dark skin, brown eyes, a smaller version of a Black Pearl Collage uniform, 40 inches tall

Personality: Mischievous, playful, curious, outgoing, and nice

Twisted from Morph from Treasure Planet

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Khünbish Khadak

Age: 18

Species: Human

Class: Junior, Class A

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Homeland: the East

Looks: Shoulder length dark brown hair, yellow eyes with black sclera, somewhat pale skin, muscular, Savanaclaw uniform with a pen with a gold magestone in his pocket, fur lined boots, a glove on his right hand, 6’7

Personality: Arrogant, ruthless, sarcastic, merciless in a fight, sadistic, brutal, confident, and a bit hypocritical

Signature Spell: Falcon’s Eye, let’s him see from the nearest bird’s point of view

Twisted from Shan Yu from Mulan

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Anwir Kongelige

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Pomifore

Homeland: The Western Cays

Looks: Dark ginger short hair, freckles on his face, gray eyes, causation skin, fair built, Pomifore uniform with a pen with a dark purple magestone in the pocket, 5’9

Personality: Proud, ambitious, manipulative, kind (as a facade to trick people), entitlement, power hungry, intelligent, adaptable, quick thinking, resourceful, cruel, cold, liar, and apathetic

Signature Spell: Frozen Heart, allows him to turn anything he touches into an ice statue

Twisted from Hans from Frozen

@adrianasunderworld @anxious-twisted-vampire @achy-boo @mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress

[godlyheathens]

2023 books ☁️

january:

1. arlindo — 5 ⭐️

2. não olhe para mim — 4 ⭐️

3. tiger honor — 4 ⭐️

4. red, white and whole — 5 ⭐️ + ♥️

5. a brush with love — 2,5 ⭐️

6. violet made of thorns — 2,5 ⭐️

7. the dead romantics — 3 ⭐️

8. self-made boys — 4 ⭐️

9. mr. perfect on paper — 3 ⭐️

10. unseelie — 4 ⭐️

11. unfamiliar — 3,5 ⭐️

12. destiny's surrender — 4 ⭐️

13. destiny's captive — 3,5 ⭐️

14. the worst woman in london — 4 ⭐️

15. forbidden — 3 ⭐️

february:

1. taco bout love — 3 ⭐️

2. the fraud squad — 2,5 ⭐️

3. highly suspicious and unfairly cute — 4,5 ⭐️

4. songs of vice — 3 ⭐️

5. for her consideration — 3,5 ⭐️

6. to catch an heiress — 2 ⭐️

7. better than fiction — 3,5 ⭐️

8. a thousand hearbeats — 1,5 ⭐️

9. hard feelings — 2 ⭐️

10. exes and o's — 3,5 ⭐️

11. wait for it — 4 ⭐️

12. the border keeper — 3 ⭐️

13. breathless — 2,5 ⭐️

14. mooncakes — 4 ⭐️

15. tempest — 3,5

16. wild rain — 3,5 ⭐️

17. roda gigante — 3,5 ⭐️

march:

1. full exposure — 2,5 ⭐️

2. bitter medicine — 3,5 ⭐️

3. the bodyguard — 4 ⭐️

4. the lost apothecary — 3,5 ⭐️

5. the midnight lie — 3,5 ⭐️

6. i love you so mochi — 3,5

7. how to win a breakup — 4,5 ⭐️

8. never kiss your roommate — 2,5 ⭐️

9. the care and feeding of waspish widows — 3 ⭐️

10. to catch a raven — 3,5 ⭐️

11. perfect on paper — 4 ⭐️

12. a closed and commom orbit — 4 ⭐️

13. la différence invisible — 4 ⭐️

april:

1. azedo — 2,5 ⭐️

2. something spectacular — 3 ⭐️

3. to sir, with love — 3 ⭐️

4. dracula — 3 ⭐️

5. the gossip games — 2,5 ⭐️

6. flowerheart — 3 ⭐️

7. a prayer from the crown‐shy — 4 ⭐️

8. assassin's apprentice — 4 ⭐️

9. the fine print — 2 ⭐️

10. take a hint, dani brown — 3 ⭐️

11. stars collide — 4 ⭐️

12. untethered sky — 4 ⭐️

13. dreams bigger than heartbreak — 4 ⭐️

14. happy place — 3 ⭐️

15. promises stronger than darkness — 4 ⭐️

16. heartless prince — 4 ⭐️

may:

1. playing for keeps — 3,5 ⭐️

2. breakup, makeup — 4 ⭐️

3. the problem with perfect — 3 ⭐️

4. nick & charlie — 3,5 ⭐️

5. you dont have a shot — 4 ⭐️

6. chlorine — 3 ⭐️

7. yellowface — 4 ⭐️

8. her good side — 3,5 ⭐️

9. garotas (im)perfeitas — 3,5 ⭐️

10. jana goes wild — 3 ⭐️

11. single dads club — 3 ⭐️

12. livre pra recomeçar — 3 ⭐️

13. one to watch — 3 ⭐️

14. the matchmaker — 4 ⭐️

15. chasing pacquiao — 2 ⭐️

16. jasmine and jake rock the boat — 4 ⭐️

17. the last tale of the flower bride — 2,5 ⭐️

18. delicates — 4 ⭐️

june

1.heartstaker — 3,5 ⭐️

2. todas as nossas meias-noites — 2,5 ⭐️

3. até o último floco de neve — 4 ⭐️

4. the love theorem — 2,5 ⭐️

5. o auto da maga josefa — 3,5 ⭐️

6. finders keepers — 2,5 ⭐️

7. the songs you've never heard — 3 ⭐️

8. legends and lattes — 4 ⭐️

9. no cooldown for love — 2,5 ⭐️

10. pageboy — 5 ⭐️

11. querida penelope — 4 ⭐️

12. playing for keeps — 3 ⭐️

13. you've been served — 3 ⭐️

14. timekeeper — 3,5 ⭐️

15. payback's a witch — 4 ⭐️

16. the girls ive been — 4 ⭐️

17. o nome dela é sophia — 3 ⭐️

18. como se fosse fanfic — 2,5 ⭐️

19. late to the party — 4 ⭐️

20. lose you to find me — 3 ⭐️

21. riley weaver needs a date to the gaybutante ball — 3 ⭐️

22. just as you are — 3,5 ⭐️

23. venom & vow — 3 ⭐️

24. chef's kiss — 3,5 ⭐️

july

northanger abbey — 4 ⭐️

kismat connection — 3 ⭐️

the only purple house in town — 2,5 ⭐️

os padrinhos — 3 ⭐️

mariposa vermelha — 4,5 ⭐️

scandalized — 1 ⭐️

love at first site — 4 ⭐️

princess princess — 4 ⭐️

chef's choice — 4 ⭐️

the invisible library — 2 ⭐️

the ex talk — 3,5 ⭐️

bear with me now — 2 ⭐️

lights — 4,5 ⭐️

boas maneiras — 3 ⭐️

confetti realms — 2 ⭐️

agust

a hollywood ending — 3 ⭐️

role playing — 4 ⭐️

to have and to heist — 3,5 ⭐️

curves for day — 2,5 ⭐️

this winter — 4 ⭐️

a master of djinn — 4,5 ⭐️

café majestic — 3,5 ⭐️

sign of the slayer — 3,5 ⭐️

brynn and sebastian hate each other — 2 ⭐️

cuckoos three — 4 ⭐️

september

the unmaking of them — 3,5 ⭐️

the second chance hotel — 3,5 ⭐️

sister of the bride — 4 ⭐️

her radiant curse — 4 ⭐️

witch king — 3 ⭐️

hell followed with us — 4 ⭐️

others were emeralds — 4 ⭐️

little thieves — 4 ⭐️

the spirit bares its teeth — 4,5 ⭐️

some kind of blunderful — 3 ⭐️

lies and other love languages — 2 ⭐️

glitch — 3,5 ⭐️

the sun and the star — 4 ⭐️

cleat cute — 4 ⭐️

of dreams and destiny — 3 ⭐️

the borrow a boyfriend club — 4 ⭐️

they hate each other — 4 ⭐️

forged by blood — 2 ⭐️

percy jackson and the chalice of the gods — 4 ⭐️

operação paddock — 4 ⭐️