#and then even in death she isn’t permitted to rest

[pearlofthewoods]

I once saw a quote that said the idea for Buffy came from subverting the horror movie trope of ‘woman is attacked in dark alley’, by making the female protagonist stronger than her attacker.

But I do find it interesting that when the female MC is given the power to fight back, she’s not just expected to protect herself, but to save everyone else as well.

And I think that’s such a tragic side to Buffy’s character, that it’s never enough for her just to protect herself, she has to save the world too, even at the expense of her own life and happiness.

[b33zlebubz]

Ingydar | starve

joel miller x reader | mdni 18+ | ao3

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tags: reader uses she/her pronouns, blood gore and death, mentioned cannibalism, sexual tension, frostbite/hypothermia, amputation, everyone is touch-starved

You're a loner in the woods. A ghost story to the kids, a tale of caution to the hunters. A rumor of smoke on the mountain and a glow between the trees. Joel Miller finds himself tangled up in your story and slowly discovers that you're not nearly as dangerous as you've made yourself out to be.

You know it doesn’t do anything immediately, not really, but the first dose of antibiotics shot into your leg feels like heaven just the same.  Maybe it’s the relief of knowing you’d live another day, maybe it’s just another anxiety lifted off your heavy shoulders—but you feel better.  Less strung-up and desperate.  Like a battle won fair and square, even though you didn’t do much other than ask questions first and threaten to shoot later.

The dental floss snapped during your tussle with Tommy, flooding your boot with blood and puss whenever you eventually took it off.  You weren’t terribly upset, though, taking the time to treat the wound more properly.  Draining it, cleaning it, suturing it shut and wrapping it in bandages.  And then, of course, flooding your veins with antibiotics.

You sleep the next few days, only waking to take your medication every morning and every night.  Weaning off the drugs, your nightmare returns, and Joel is still there.  Town on fire.  Falling into the ditch.  Grabbing your ring.  Joel.

Joel.  Joel.  Joel.  You try not to linger on it.

Whenever your fever finally breaks and you feel well enough to hunt, you head out just to nearly trip over the box left on your doorstep, hidden by the collective snowfall of the past few nights.  

Inside is food.  Jerky and apples.  At the very bottom, about two periods worth of tampons.  The sight makes you blink, completely dumbfounded by the display of kindness clearly not put together by the two men who visited you earlier in the week.  Your period was a rarity reserved usually for better weather and months of low-stress, but it's a relief just the same. 

There’s no name attached, no note, but if you had to guess it was probably whoever Tommy had waiting for him back in Jackson—his boot prints and horse tracks fresh enough to distinguish at the bottom of your steps.  Maybe a day and a half old.

It’s the most thoughtful thing you’ve received in a long time.  You don’t deserve it, not really, but it would feel even worse letting something as precious as fruit and tampons go to waste.  So, you let yourself rest another day, enjoying a light dinner of jerky and apples before returning to bed.

Slowly, everything falls back into place and things return to normal.  You get better.  Winter somehow gets worse.  You repair your steps, your door, and your window.  Tend to your pair of chickens and search for food during the height of the day while it’s warm.

Still, that isn’t the last you see of Joel.  Not in unconsciousness, not in real life.  

Patrols become ever more frequent; teams going out to hunt sometimes twice a day, when the weather permits.  Joel is usually there, and you don’t know if it's just because you’ve gotten better at spotting him or if he really is out as often as he is.

He’s keeping an eye on you, though.  Spreading the word, telling people what to look for and what to avoid.  The people of Jackson have gotten better at spotting you and when their curiosity gets them too close, he calls them off.  A stern stick to your routes through the radio or a let’s get going whenever a kid follows you into the trees.  It's a blessing and a curse, because although his consistent presence is relieving, you’re growing fond of him.  The closest thing to an uneasy acquaintanceship you’ve had in years.  Unfamiliar feelings.  Foreign trust.  An easy understanding built on nothing but you keep your distance and I’ll keep mine.

Nevertheless, coexisting with Jackson gets easier as you adjust to the frequent footsteps in the snow along your property.  You leave them food, sometimes, taking what you need when you hunt and leaving the rest for whoever catches wind of you from the bushes.  Animals get more rare by the day.  You only manage to shoot anything decent about once a week.  Still, you leave what you can spare.  Meat only lasts so long and you’re only one person, anyway.  You can spare some scraps.

Nothing else gets stolen, and nobody bothers you past lingering looks from across streams and the laughing of young men and women joking and trekking up the mountain.  Your presence slowly changes from an urban legend to a creature in the woods—docile unless provoked.

You’re okay with that.

***

It’s mid December—you think—the next time your quiet life is disturbed.  It’s a rare warm day, warm enough that your face doesn’t sting after hours out in the snow.  Sweat collects under your coat from the sun, glittering across packed snow and frozen trees.  The world feels a little more alive today than it has in weeks.

Still, your breath clouds out in front of you and feels tight in your lungs as you walk to a nearby stream, temporarily thawed.  Water trickles thin over rocks and ice, enough for you to wash your hands of the rabbit that sits on your sled not far from where you stand.  You watch the red swirl with blue and white, the water frigid but refreshing. 

You catch yourself in the reflection, one of those rare moments where you actually get to see yourself.  Your jawline is sharper, now.  Eyes sunken and dull.  Whether it's mud in your hair or the burn of the sun across the summits of your face, you never recognize yourself.  You don’t know why you keep half-expecting to look the same as you did a month ago, but you never do.

While once upon a time you might have actually cared, might have taken a second to mourn your unevenly-chopped hair or the scar on your cheek, now it just pulls a scoff from you.  If anything, you look more real than you did a few weeks ago, and you feel content with that.

Gunshots echo through the mountains.

Startled, you look up just in time to see three crows burst from a clearing about a click from where you stand.  A breath leaves you at the sound, a quick succession.  Two more, and then nothing.  Three a few seconds later, closer.  Louder.  Then nothing again.

The sounds lead you to a place you know well—a burnt-down, dilapidated village.  A place that once could be considered cozy, walkable and closed off from most of civilization.  A raided dollar general, a couple of houses, a church, a Wendy's, and a small, frozen-over pond hidden by snow.  You pass a welcome sign, slapping your hand against it.  

Ingydar.  Now just a collection of corpses and charred wood.  A ghost town, really.  Half buried in snow and forgotten.

The sounds lead you to a warehouse tucked away in the trees, down a road towards the edge of town.   A caved roof splintered and snaked with the brown tendrils of overgrown, dead ivy.  Two pick-up trucks parked beside it, broken and raided of anything worth keeping.    You would know; you syphoned the last of the gasoline out of them four years ago.  

The snow around it is littered with footprints and a handful of runners, still twitching and leaking foul blood from fresh bullets to the head.  You nudge one with your boot, a woman about your age, mushrooms blooming between her eyes.

There’s a grunt from inside.  The snarl of another runner.  Two more unsuppressed gunshots that burst through the collapsing roof, making you flinch.  You raise your gun quickly, jogging around the side of the building to the double doors that weren’t open before.  Sunlight spills in and a shotgun sits on the concrete.

A breath leaves you and you sit your rifle on your shoulder.  It fogs into the silent, freezing air as you enter with even steps into the dark.  There’s shuffling, you hear it, but it's hard to distinguish from where.

Something slams into your back.

You yelp, sputter, and gasp as the breath is knocked from your lungs.  Snarls fill your ears as something bites at your clothes and you slam the butt of your rifle into the clicker’s head.  It explodes into creaky, bubbling noises, falling just as another launches for your arm.

Then, the swing of a crowbar.  Metal glinting against the sun.  Rotted flesh explodes over your clothes and you kick the dead clicker at a live one.

Joel.  He grunts as the clicker changes course and launches at him, scrambling backwards before falling against the crates.  You’re quick to finally swing your rifle around and shoot, blasting infected blood on the ceiling.

Aside from you and Joel’s labored breathing, it’s silent.  Your eyes go from the ceiling, to the blood on your clothes, back up to where Joel catches his breath.  His chest heaves as he catches your gaze just as you find his; wide-eyed and shocked.  

For a while, you both just stare.  Breathe.  Catch up to the moment.

You clear your throat and brush the worst of the blood off,  “you bit?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his gaze unreadable.  He’s frazzled, notably so.  Covered in blood, damp with snow, and eyebags deeper than you last saw him.  He stares at you for a moment longer, something passing over his eyes before he shakes it off and rights himself.  “No.”

“Good,”  you say and push yourself back up on two feet.  Still, your voice is rough.  You reach out, tentatively offering a hand.  He seems to hesitate at the sight before taking it.  He grunts as you pull him back up to his feet.  

“You’re a long ways from home,” you observe.

He places a hand against the wall to steady himself, recovering.  One hand on his chest.  It was a close call, closer than anything you’ve had in a while, so you don’t blame him.  

“We’re out of food,”  he breathes.

“What?”

“We’re out of food,”  he repeats, clearer, and the deep-rooted frustration under his tone is the most emotion you’ve heard from him yet.  He stands, crossing the room to rifle through boxes again as if he didn’t just almost die.  “Refugees came in yesterday, just passin’ through—packed our reserves into bags and left during the night.”

You huff, shoulders dropping a little as your eyes follow him to the crates near the wall.  Apparently, you were on better terms with him than you thought.  Good enough for him to trust you with this information, anyway.  Or maybe he just really needs to vent to someone uninvolved, you really aren’t sure.

“Sounds like you should’ve kept it locked up and guarded.”

“We did,”  he snaps, rustling through old wood.  “Now we’ll be lucky to make it through the end of the next month.  There’s no animals around, no flour, no rice—nothin’.”

He sighs heavily, tense, as he looks out over the dead around him.

“I’ve got every fuckin’ squad out right now and everyone’s comin’ back empty handed.”

You huff, following him curiously as he moves about. “Well, you’re not gonna find anything here.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,”  you cross your arms.  “This was my warehouse.”

Not your’s, not really, but he doesn’t need to know that.  Still, he doubts you, glancing back and shooting you a look; halfway between incredulous and surprised.  A look that screams bullshit, clearly mastered through years of getting fucked over.  You don’t blame him, you’d be suspicious too if a stranger told you the same.  But for once, you were telling the truth.  Half of it, anyway.  

“Look.  I’ve got rice stored up in my shed at the lookout.  Bags of it.  It’s yours as long as you come get it, but—”  You raise a hand to stop him before he can interrupt.  “I won’t give it up for free.”

He just looks at you.  Considering, thinking.  He shifts his weight from one foot to the next, fingers flexing against his palm.  He glances to the door, to the crates, then back to you.  The look of a man who needs help, but doesn’t want to admit it.  It would almost be endearing if lives weren’t at stake.  Almost.

Joel lets out a breath that fogs into the cold air.  Slowly reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a crumpled baggy, tentatively offering it.  You grab it quickly, rolling the green buds in your hand—flaky.  Good.  Great, actually.  Your eyes widen, just a little, before you glance up to look at him.

“You guys had weed this whole fucking time?” 

He only huffs.  He picks his shotgun back up from the floor and shoulders it before pointing a finger in your face. 

“You screw us over,”  he threatens, voice low and eyes narrowing.  He’s got a shattered watch around his wrist.  “I’ll blow your head off.”

You roll your eyes.  If you really wanted him dead you would’ve done away with it through the scope of your rifle a month ago.  Still, he’s suspicious, and you can’t help but admire his pig-headedness.

“No bullshit,”  you say, offering a hand. 

He shakes it.

***

If you had accounted for the fact that you had to travel back to the lookout with Joel, you think your conversation may have played out a little differently.  

You’re at least grateful he picks up on your uneasiness whenever you follow him back to his horse.  Four people are with him scouting; two older men, two younger.  You hang back, just off by the trees.  It's officially the most people you’ve interacted with in months and you’re not super keen on getting too close.  He persists that he’ll go with you alone.  A reckless decision on his part, maybe—but one you appreciate anyway.  He’s more trusting than you pegged him for.

“You coming?”  He says whenever he gets on his horse.  You short-circuit a little, realizing he wants you up with him.  It’ll be faster, definitely, but the thought of being basically against his back makes your throat tight.  Uneasy for a reason you can’t quite place.

“No,”  you say, too quick.  “I can walk.”

You think he’s going to fight you on it, but he doesn’t.  Just nods, pulls the reins, and follows.

“‘Suit yourself.”

You end up on the horse a little less than halfway there, anyway, after you collect your rabbit. The snow is too deep now to go the short way up the mountain without the help of the horse, and it isn’t long before climbing through the snow feels more ridiculous than clinging to a near-stranger’s back. 

He’s hard to read, silent for most of the journey as you clutch the back of his coat, but he doesn’t seem bothered.  Like he’s used to it, having people around.  Living in groups and having someone at his back when he rides.  Maybe even comforted by it. 

You take the time to study him.  

He’s got scars, calloused hands.  Ones that suggest he was a worker even before everything went to hell.  A revolver that digs into your knee a little and a shotgun at his back.  Worry lines between his brows, on his forehead, and around his eyes.  Dark, greying hair a little long around his ears, almost concealing a scar on his temple. You have a few guesses as to what it might be from and you file them away in your mind, missing pieces of a puzzle.

His back is warm against your palms, much like his hand was whenever you helped him up.  Maybe it's the fact that it's been a long time since you’ve had any contact with anyone, maybe it's just getting cold again—but every brush of his boot to yours feels more significant than it should.

For once, you’re the first to break the silence.  Anything to break the quiet, distract you from the closeness.

“Tell Tommy’s wife I said thank you,”  you say.  “For the box.”

This surprises him.  He glances back at you and his eyes are dark brown.

“How’d you know he’s married?”  

“He had a ring,”  Your voice is getting stronger, the rasp you've had for years slowly fading with each time you speak.  “And I know neither of you would think to gift me tampons.”

He thinks for a moment, confused.  Then, he lets out something that could be considered a huff, turning back to the road ahead.  It’s silent again, and a moment passes.  A breeze picks up through the trees, picking up snow with it and dusting it across the landscape.

“‘Just had a kid last week,”  he mutters reluctantly, breath clouding out in the cold.  “Tommy’s wife.”

The thought that someone might be comfortable enough in their environment to bring a kid into this world is a confusing one, for you.  Too many things could go wrong, nevermind the fact that it's another mouth to keep fed and out of trouble.  It explains the scramble for food, though. Tommy’s absence, too.  

You think back to the teenaged girl you saw him with and wonder, again, what he is to her.  They didn’t look super similar—not that you remember, anyway—but he had protected her like she was his own.  Like a daughter.

You blink for a moment before you come back to yourself and recall how people usually reply when presented with such news.

“Congratulations,”  you murmur, and he only grunts.

“He’s a nervous wreck, especially after last night.  Nearly has the whole town in a panic.”

“How many are there?”  You ask.  “Of you.”

Joel thinks for a moment, considering.  “About a hundred, now.”

It makes your skin crawl a bit.  Not because numbers particularly mean danger, but because of what might happen if danger comes along.  “Goddamn.”

“Yeah,”  Joel nods in agreement.  “Getting more in every few days, too.  Now that word is spreading.”

You purse your lips and let the conversation fall flat. 

It stays quiet after that until you both get to the base of the mountain.  You give him shortcuts, then.  Tell him it's safer to stick to areas that are less steep, that infected get stuck in the snow and collect at the bottom of the mountains and hills.  He’s wary, but takes your advice anyway, and you both get up to the lookout before the sun sets.

It's quick.  Quiet.  He loads two bags of rice up onto his horse and tosses you back the bag of weed.  Once it’s all said and done, Joel stops you before you can run off again.

“There was something I was told to ask,”  he says slowly.  “If I ran into you again.”

It’s still weird, being perceived.  Knowing people were talking about you, now, knowing you existed outside of just being a whisper of a rumor in the wind.  A phantom.  A ghost story.  You linger as he talks.

He purses his lips.  If just asking for food took effort, this favor was damn near impossible to force from his throat—proud, stubborn.  His hands flex again.  His weight shifts, too, a nervous habit.

“You’ve been here a while,”  he says slowly.  “‘Know the area…right?”

You hesitate, mulling over his observation before you nod once in agreement, letting him finish. 

“I need help huntin’,”  he ducks his head down just a little as if in defeat.  “If you’re willin’.”

You expected the question, really, ever since you let Tommy have that moose some time ago.  Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have opened up that communication to Jackson. If Tommy would’ve asked back then you would’ve said no, picked up your sled, and disappeared—but this time you’re just hesitant.

You see a friend, potentially, in Joel.  A warmth that wasn’t there before today that burns, small but steady, under your skin.  Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t press for conversation, or force you to work with strangers, but you’re a little fond.  The beginnings of something you can’t quite pinpoint, buried under years of walls, stirs something uncomfortable in your chest.  Something that makes your ring feel colder, tighter around your finger.

You should say no, but you can’t.  Your mouth doesn’t give your mind the chance to.

“...you bring more flower,” you say, measured and even.  “And yeah.  I’ll help.”

That almost gets an amused huff from him.  “Deal.”

“Meet me here.  Sunrise.  Just you,”  you tell him.  “I’ll show you the best spots.”

He lets out a breath and nods, relieved.  He turns to leave, yanking on the reins to make his way back down the mountain.  As he turns, as you watch his horse begin to trot off, you speak up one last time.  Step forward towards him.

“Hey, Joel.”

He turns.  “Yeah?”

“Your watch is broken.”

He doesn’t even glance at it, turning back to the path ahead of him.  Just waves you off, the face flashing at you as it catches the setting sun in broken glass for just a second.

“I know,”  he says over his shoulder.  “I keep it that way.”

***

Joel’s visits slowly become routine.  

At first, they’re quiet.  Sporadic.  He shows up a couple days out of the week at the very first smudge of light on the horizon.  Half the time it’s before you’re even out of bed, and you scramble to get your shit together at the first huff of his horse at the bottom of your lookout.

“Jesus, Joel,”  You mutter with a shake of your head, descending the steps that first morning with a voice still scratchy from sleep.  It was heavy, weighted and quiet by the weed the night before.  Too heavy to properly dream.  You doubt you’ve slept that well since your injury.  It leaves your head foggy, and you make a mental note to cut the dose in half for future use.  Your tolerance isn’t nearly what it used to be and it shows.

Joel regards you with nothing more than an indifferent squint through the dark.  “You said dawn.”

“Dawn,”  you huff, joining him at the bottom and pulling your pack closer onto your shoulders.  “Not the ass-crack of it.”

“You ready to go or not?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You learn just a little bit more about him with every trip, whether he wants you to or not.  He drinks coffee, if the stale scent of it on his clothes one day is any clue.  He’s partially deaf in one ear and the lead contractor for Jackson.  Skilled with a rifle in a way that’s military, a deadly shot. You watched him level an elk that kept you and Jackson fed for a while.

Slowly, things get more comfortable.  Comfortable enough for him to tell you where he’s from.

“Texas,”  he says.  “Spent the first ten years or so of the outbreak with FEDRA.  Left on a smuggling job and never went back.”

You nod in understanding.  Most people are refugees, you’re starting to learn.  Escaping from Fireflies, FEDRA, or abandoning their duties as such.  You’re thankful that the government is one thing you’ve managed to outrun, during all this.

“How’d you end up here, then?”

This makes him hesitate, like he’s choosing his words carefully.  Like he isn’t sure how much to tell you.  You watch the gears turn behind his eyes as he presses two branches together, forcing them to stand steady in the snow.

“Tommy was here first.  Started a family.  Started takin’ in people, repairing the city, building the hold.”  he says evenly.  “Building somethin’ safe.”

You nod along as he speaks, but he doesn’t elaborate.  Something safe, like he was hiding from something.  Protecting something.  The girl, you think.

It falls silent and you watch him work.  He’s picked up on your advice fast, wrapping wire around a stick.  Making the loop big but not too big, just enough for the head to get caught.  Good.  Perfect, even.  

You purse your lips and let out a breath, looking away.  To distract yourself from the heaviness of his physical presence at your feet, you offer him some scraps of conversation as well.

“Nowhere’s safe.  Not really,”  you say, shifting your weight and adjusting your hold on your gun.  “But if you’re looking for quiet you picked the right spot.”

He huffs.  “On human or Infected terms?”

You think back to the last group of infected you saw pass through, well over ten years ago now whenever things were still settling from the outbreak.  Whenever the air still buzzed with anger and fear, smoke still rose from the horizon.  FEDRA and Fireflies, however, were very few and far between.  

“Both.  But it's the desperate survivors that you have to watch out for,”  you glance to him.  “People will say and do anything to stay alive another day.”

He meets your gaze, something passes through his eyes for a moment before he nods in agreement and resumes his work.  He clears his throat.

“You should come down,”  he says to you for the first time.  Your heart jumps a little, surprised by the invitation, but his eyes are still focussed ahead.  Brow furrowed.  You’re not sure what it means, still not quite sure how to read him sometimes—but if you didn’t know any better, he almost seems shy.

You let out a breath, shifting your weight again as he tightens the rabbit snare.  “Come down?”

“For the holidays,”  he clarifies, pulling the wire tight.  Still, you try not to focus too hard on his hands as he does.  “Come meet the city so people stop thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

You huff.  You should say no, but you hesitate.  Grow nervous.  Your brain grapples with the idea for a moment too long before you shake your head.

“Don’t do holidays,”  you answer, looking away.  “But thanks.”

Christmas comes and goes.  As expected, Joel doesn’t show.  A part of you is happy he’s taking the time to lay low.  He doesn’t really seem like the type unless he’s forced, and you think maybe Tommy talked him into relaxing.  Taking a break.  You’re glad.

You lighten up on your rules.

You move your pelts aside for the first time in a while that New Years to study the dark landscape, light a fire in your oven and stay inside for the day.  The stars—although still bright—are dimmed by the lights pressed off between the mountains.  Brighter with the people of Jackson celebrating.  You seat yourself at your desk and watch, a jar clutched loosely in your fist.  Moonshine.  A gift from Joel, although you haven’t touched much of it, wary of where your thoughts might go if you do.  

Holidays were nothing, usually.  Just more days on the calender to power through.  You make an effort not to celebrate because you want to keep memories of before distant, dull.  It was easier to keep going that way.  Easier to stay sane.

It felt harder not to this year, for some reason.  Watching the city between the mountains buzz with warm life while frost collected on your windows.

Tonight, though, you allow yourself to relax.  Sit back and stare at the ceiling, feel the cold of your ring against the jar of alcohol.  It’s strong.  It sits warm in your stomach and loosens your shoulders, makes unwelcome thoughts come easier.

Like Joel’s hands.  

You take a breath, tilt your head back.  Close your eyes.  The more time you spend with him the more he takes up your mind with unwelcome thoughts.  It’s just proximity, you know this.  A stupid, fleeting thing that’ll pass with time.  Feelings and urges stemmed from too long alone.  He brings a warmth you’re not used to, a touch that lingers, and it's something familiar.  A memory that burns when it breaches for air.  Something that makes you shift in your seat, thinking of him.  What it’d be like, having someone else around again.  Depending on someone.  Having him kiss your neck.  Kissing his neck. 

You go to bed before the thoughts become consuming.  Joel’s teeth still sink into your trachea just the same.

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[pedrospookie]

Don’t Look Back

Jackson!Joel Miller Angst

a/n: hi! this is my first foray into writing angst— I thought a lot about this story and owe @slimybeth69 so much credit for holding my hand through it, helping me brainstorm and looking over parts of this for me. I was super inspired by the myth of Orpheus and this idea came to me. It might be crap, i will not be offended if you think it’s crap. I do recommend reading this lil blurb about the myth of Orpheus as it will be referenced (slightly) throughout the story. The synopsis is based on my personal knowledge and a blurb found on Britanica. There are many amazing, proper editions of this myth and I recommend reading that for more information if you are interested!

the events are not 100% canon — don’t come for me okay? they do take place in TLOU 2 but they aren’t perfect or factual, I just shaped it to fit the narrative of this story.

thank you to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers 🤍

tw: angst, death, mentions of suicide, mentions of suicidal thoughts, grief, lots of hard feelings, falling out with family, overall sadness, Minors DNI!

In the Greek myth of Orpheus, son of Apollo and Calliope, he was gifted a lyre by Apollo. Orpheus’ singing and playing were so moving that animals and even rocks and trees moved about him in dance. He then married Eurydice, the love of his life who was taken from him too soon. Bitten by a snake on the day of their wedding, she was sent to the underworld, leaving Orpheus in the world of the living. Orpheus went to the underworld to beg Hades for her return. His music and grief moved Hades so much that he allowed Orpheus to bring Eurydice back to the world of the living, under one condition: upon leaving the underworld, the couple were not permitted to look back. They walked towards the world of the living, and in celebration of seeing the sun, Orpheus looked back to Eurydice and she disappeared. Some tales say that Orpheus sat at the entrance to the underworld, lamenting and playing his lyre for the rest of eternity until the Gods took pity on him and put him out of his mercy, allowing Orpheus to reunite with Eurydice in the underworld. 

Joel’s body groaned awake, the sneaking rays of sun gently climbing through his shaded windows, caressing the fine lines that rested on his face. With a grunt, he slowly moved out of bed, stretching his neck and back after a long night of rest. 

Today was an average day for Joel; a simple shift at the stables, minding the horses and mending whatever was in need of mending at the barns, then a pit stop at The Tipsy Bison on his way home.

Things had been quiet since Ellie left. He hadn’t quite found a way to mend the hole she left in his heart. While Tommy and Maria had initially made an effort to include him socially, or pop over for visits with his nephew, the young child reminded him too much of the children he lost. His time in Jackson had softened him, allowing that small glimmer of hope to shine in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he would see Ellie again. That she would come back to him. That she would forgive him. But hope is futile. 

As Joel made his way outside, he noticed the weathered guitars that sat by the front, covered in a thin layer of dust, yearning to be strummed once more. Isn’t that how Orpheus died? Strummin’ ‘n cryin’ til the gods put him outta his misery? Joel thinks to himself, turning away from the lonely instruments and heading down his front porch. 

He could remember it clear as day— Sarah had come racing in the door with a new book from the school library. A tattered novel filled with Greek myths and photos of ancient ruins. She would spend hours explaining the myths and lessons behind them to Joel, a hot topic of discussion at breakfast. 

“What kinda idiot looks back!?” She scolded the God, baffled how he could have failed his relatively easy and simple promise to Eurydice. 

“Maybe he loved her so much that he couldn’t help it? He had to see her?” Tommy shares as he takes a bite of his toast. Joel shot him a look of confusion, eyebrow raised and a scowl forming on his lips, resulting in an innocent shrug from Tommy. 

”What! You ain’t ever loved a gal so much you couldn’t not look at ‘er?” He laughs, his words striking Joel right in the chest. 

He had. 

That is how he felt the moment he held Sarah for the first time. The small babe, barely large enough to fit in the palm of his hand, cradled gently into his chest. He knew from that moment that she would be the love of his life. He had never felt a love like this before, not even for her mother. Joel would go to hell and back for Sarah, make a deal with any devil, but he also knew that if she had been stripped from him like Eurydice, he would look. He couldn’t bear not to see his girl. That would kill him. 

Hell, it nearly did.

Much like Eurydice, Sarah had died knowing she was loved. In that final look back, cradled tightly in Joel’s arms, she knew he loved her. 

Joel felt his heart ache for his lost girls. The ones he tried to save. The ones he couldn’t save. He understood that bastard Orpheus now. That all-consuming grief and to have felt it not once, but twice? It was nearly unbearable. If he could, Joel too would lament forever, sitting on his porch with his guitar, letting the strings weep the tears Joel refused to shed.

It’s moments like this where Joel wishes he hadn’t flinched on that day early into the outbreak. But Joel had to keep walking. He had to. He couldn’t let himself fall back into the sounds and memories of the past, rewatching them play over and over in his mind, being harshly reminded of his mistakes — his failures — his inability to save the people he loved. If that small glimmer of hope that lived deep within his chest said anything to Joel, it was that he had to keep walking. If he had any chance of fixing things with Ellie, he had to keep walking. He learned his lesson, or so he thought. He couldn’t look back. 

A stillness fell over Joel as he approached the barn, its ancient wooden structure patched together like an old quilt. There was a spark of anticipation that lingered in the air, something Joel couldn’t quite put his finger on. It made his skin prickle and the gentle curls on the back of his neck stand on high alert. His heart stopped as he scanned the horizon for clickers or raiders, wondering if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. 

As Joel rounded the corner to the barn, the only sound to be heard was the soft munching of hay and Dan mumbling to himself. Dan was a familiar face from patrol, someone who had done several shifts with Joel over the years. A fairly decent guy who just wanted to get the job done and go home to his wife, something Joel respected. 

Commotion arose as Joel started to step into the stables. The large doors to the barn swung open with a thundering bang, sending the horses into a wild frenzy, bucking frantically in every direction. A flash of panic skates across Dan’s face as he tries to calm the horse in his grip, dropping a bucket of apples in the process.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay girl.” He tries to soothe the wild horse beside him, holding the reigns for dear life, as he puts his free hand out to calm another.

”What the fuck is going on, Dan!?” Joel yells across the barn, trying to be heard over the high pitched squeals and neighs coming from the band of horses. He rushes in, arms spread to try and tame the majestic creatures. Joel could see Dan lift his gaze towards him, a puzzled look on his face, eyes squinting at Joel before his attention was brought back to the horse beside him, a sharp neigh piercing their ears. 

“Shimmer, shhh, don’t worry! She’ll be here soon t’see you.” Dan continues to murmur to the horse, petting her snout as he slowly coaxes her. 

Shimmer? S’in Ellie’s horse?? Ellie’s here!? Joel’s mind races— how’d no one tell me that Ellie was here?! 

“Dan! Ellie’s here!?” Joel frantically shouts over the horses again, his heart rate skyrocketing as he tries to tame them into a calmer state. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel notices his horse, Callus. Slowly approaching the large animal, hand out reached to the bucking stallion, murmuring sweet words of endearment, coaxing the animal back into a calmer state. 

I knew ya were a good horse, Joel smirks to himself as he gives Callus some gentle pats of encouragement. He quickly focused back on the bucking mare in front of him, trying not to get kicked in the side of the head.

”Dan, buddy! A lil help here!!” Joel yells back again, trying to catch his buddies attention as he puts his hand out to the mare.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!” Dan hisses, petting shimmer one last time before racing out of the barn, leaving Joel with the tantruming horses. 

“And I’m the one with shit hearing.” Joel grumbles, rolling his eyes as he starts to surrender to the horses, nervously backing away from the squealing animals and towards his own. 

“What happened buddy?” Joel asks Callus as if he could reply, gently petting the animals’ long snout. Joel had such loyalty to the steed, he had gotten Joel out of many sticky situations and home safe more times than he could count.  The gentle affection that Callus gave him was often the only affection Joel received these days. The horse whines in response, as if he was griping along with Joel, turning to nuzzle his head into Joel’s shoulder. At least you love me, Joel thinks to himself as he brushes the velvety fur of the large animal. He sees the other horses in the pen continuing to grow restless, bucking their legs in the air and bleating. 

This was out of character for the horses, especially Ellie’s horse Shimmer. She knew Joel and was easily calmed by him, yet his presence was working her up even more. What in the hell is out there that spooked them? This couldn’t just be because of the door?

Joel could feel the panic starting to rise in his chest, it’s one thing to control one wild horse, but an entire barn full?! This was beyond Joel’s scope, he had to call in reinforcements to get these horses settled. 

“I’ll be back.” He promises Callus, patting him once more on his back hip before sprinting out of the barn. 

That lingering feeling continued to fill Joel with dread. He scanned the area for anyone who would possibly help him, but the area was sparse. Where is everyone? Was there something going on that he didn’t know about? What did the horses know that he didn’t?? Were they all with Ellie? Where is Ellie? Fuck, did something happen to Ellie?!

Something inside of Joel started to twist and turn. What the fuck was going on? Why didn’t someone come to tell him? Where the fuck was Tommy? 

Tommy. 

That mother fucker. Whatever is going on, Tommy either knows and isn’t saying anything or he should know and is completely oblivious to the weirdness among town today.

Making good on his word, Joel returned to the barn to see Callus one last time. His noble steed had moved from his resting place in the hay to a windowed spot by the barn door, as if he was anxiously waiting for Joel’s return. 

As Joel approached, poking his head through the little window, he was shocked by the sudden calm that had fallen over the horses. What the actual fuck?

”They musta seen a snake ‘r somethin’, eh buddy?” Joel mumbles slowly under his breath to the horse, patting his snout again as he tries to piece together the odd scene that had just played out in front of him. 

Joel’s mind was filled with questions as he walked back towards the bar to find Tommy. These swirling questions were trying to wrap themselves around the strange events of today. Today was supposed to be a normal day. He felt sick, knowing that Ellie was in town and not a single soul came to tell him. Not even his own brother. Yeah, they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment after a whiskey fueled blow out a few weeks after Ellie left. Tommy just didn’t know when to fucking stop talking sometimes— there was no comparison to Ellie, let alone Sarah —and yeah, Joel loved his nephew but Tommy sayin’ that the kid could fill the gap that those girls left in Joel’s heart was dumb. And Joel told him so. In less kinder language, but he told him so. With a broken whiskey tumbler and a slammed door, The Miller brother’s stopped speaking to one another.

But Tommy would tell him that Ellie was back? Even if they weren’t speaking? He knew what this would mean to Joel. 

Unless Tommy hated him too. 

Sarah would be so disappointed. Seeing the two of them like this? The only family she ever knew split up and not speaking. She would be embarrassed of Joel, of his immature behaviour and hardened manner. This wasn’t the kind, loving dad she once had. She would have marched Joel over and made him apologize, immediately— with warm cookies! To which Joel would have mumbled something about how Tommy would probably prefer a cold case of beer, but nope! Warm cookies. 

Joel silently promised her that once he got things sorted with Ellie, he would go over to Tommy’s and properly apologize. He may not know how to bake cookies, but he’d find something. Something of the likeness of Sarah to help bandage the emotional wounds he caused. He would vow to do better, if not for himself, but for the sake of Sarah. 

A flash of auburn hair pulled Joel from his thoughts— was that Ellie?

His pace quickened as he tried to follow the girl, trying to confirm that it was in fact Ellie. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, suspiciously looking over her shoulder towards Joel. 

Holy shit, it was Ellie.

Before Joel’s brain could register that it was her, his lungs were screaming out, hands cupping his mouth to amplify his dark, gravely voice. Without a single flinch, she kept moving, ignoring Joel’s call and entering the thick wooden doors of The Tipsy Bison. 

Fuck, she must be really mad, Joel thinks to himself, feeling that small glimmer of hope that lived deep in his chest slowly shrivel up and disappear as he approaches the enterance to the bar. Tempted to go in after her, yet Joel couldn’t bring himself to go in. Ellie needed space, she has made that abundantly clear. The least Joel could do was respect it. 

He couldn’t blame Ellie— what he had done to her was unfair — stripping her of one of the few choices she had in this fucked up world, and then to lie about it? That was the worst thing he could have done. At his grown age, he should know this by now, having lectured not one but two daughters and a mangey brother about how awful lying is. “I can’t help you if you lie, Sarah”, “I can’t get you out of trouble if you aren’t honest with me, Tommy”, “Ellie, lying hurts peoples feelings”, “When you lie, I can’t trust you, Joel.” 

He was trying to protect her. Even with the best intentions, much like that bastard, Orpheus, he fucked up. This was a possibly irreversible mistake with severe consequences, and that killed Joel. Nearly more than the guilt he had harboured holding onto that lie. Letting it grow and wrap itself around his insides like a big fat, hairy tumor with teeth.  He had to let it out because Ellie deserved the truth. And while the repercussions of his actions may be the very death of him, he had no regrets. He would do it again, and again, in every life, to save Ellie. 

The one daughter he could save. 

If this is his penance, so be it. At least he knew she was safe and home. Maybe Tommy or Maria will talk some sense into her, help her understand why Joel had done what he had done. Or at least help her find the grace to forgive him, even just a little. And if she’d give him the chance, he would do anything and everything to fix this. A clean slate, a new leaf— whatever Ellie needed Joel would do.

She looked older, her hair longer than it had been when she left, half up in a way that reminded Joel of Tess. He wondered what kind of adventures she had been on and how things were going with Dina. He wanted so desperately to give her the copy of Back to the Future that he had found on a scouting mission a while back, remembering their extensive conversations about it and wanting to hold true to his promise to her. Maybe Tommy could be the middle man? He thought, leaning against the rickety planks that made up The Tipsy Bison. 

He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed Ellie leaving the bar, walking fiercely in the direction of Joel’s home, mumbling under her breath. Her shoulders were hunched over, hugging her arms close to her body as she marched forward, leaving Joel trailing behind. 

“Ellie, wait!” Joel shouts, trying to catch up to her brisk pace. 

“—I don’t even know how we even got here,” Ellie gasps out, her voice muddled and dry. It sounded like she had been crying. 

“Got where, Ellie? What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” Joel asks, still a few steps behind the girl, trying to respect her space. “What happened?” He prods softly, following her around the corner into their neighbourhood. 

“It’s just all so fucked up! Fuck!” She sobs, kicking a neighbours mailbox, wincing gently at the impact of her foot to the wooden post. Joel felt himself grimace at her anger, he knew this was his fault. He deserved her silence. There were a million things that he wanted to say to Ellie, but he knew at that moment that the best thing he could do is shut up and listen. 

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’d want, Joel.” She sighs, stopping as she approaches the front steps of what was once their house, leaning gently on the little black mailbox that has “The Miller’s” scrawled across it in white paint. 

“I want whatever will make you happy, Ellie. I will do whatever I got to t’build your trust again.” Joel murmurs softly, still a respectful distance from Ellie, watching her trace the white letters with her fingers, a single tear falls from her cheek as she looks up towards his house. Joel watches Ellie sigh deeply, the rise and fall of her shoulders giving her courage to move forward up the steps to their house. 

She’s home. These are baby steps! This is a start. For the first time in ages, Joel could believe that little glimmer of hope in his chest. He could feel it radiating warmth throughout his body, tightening his throat as he sucked back happy tears that threatened to fall. His girl was home. 

He followed Ellie up the steps, watching as she paused to grab his guitar. The lonely guitar that had waited so patiently for its duet partner to return, ready and waiting to be strummed once again. She held the neck delicately, blowing some of the dust off of the polished wood, her small hands holding the guitar close. Her soft grasp was juxtaposed with a sudden rigidity in her back and shoulders. 

“I’m gonna find who did this to you.” She hisses, opening the door to the house and slamming it, leaving Joel stunned on the porch.

What in the fuck was she talking about? Who was she talking about? Confusion once again swirling around in Joel’s head for the millionth time that day. He went to reach for the door knob when the front door suddenly swung open, Ellie barreling through with her arms filled with some of Joel’s possessions; a Linda Ronstadt record, some flannel shirts, the watch that Sarah gave him and his guitar strapped to her back. 

“Where in the hell are you goin’ off with my stuff?!” Joel barks, furious at the thievery taking place before his eyes. The least Ellie could do was ask, she knows he would say yes! Ellie continues to ignore him, marching back towards The Tipsy Bison, rambling on and on about how she is going to get payback. 

Payback for what?

“Ellie, can y’please just stop for a fuckin’ minute ‘n throw me a bone here? Y’re runnin’ off with my stuff, the least ya can do is acknowledge me, damn it!” Joel shouts, his pace quickening to catch up with hers. That glimmer of hope is now replaced with sheer rage. This little punk. Joel knew he still had no business disrespecting Ellie’s space and wishes, but he’d be damned if he let her run off with his favourite things without so much as a short acknowledgement. He’d raised her better than that. 

She powered through, pushing the doors to The Tipsy Bison open, Joel following closely behind. The bar was quiet for the afternoon, a small group of people were gathered around a table at the back. As Joel got closer, he started to recognize them, Dan from patrol and his wife, a couple of nice folk from the stables, Maria and Tommy, and then Ellie, who was laying all of Joel’s items out on the table. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know this fuckin’ sucks.” Tommy says softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I remember when my mom died, I was your age. It fuckin’ sucked.”

Yeah, it did suck. Dad wouldn’t get outta bed and we had to do all the plannin’ — wait, died? Who the hell died?!

“Are you sure you don’t wanna let us handle this?” Maria asks cautiously, knowing the weight that this would place on Ellie’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, no offence, but Joel would hate whatever you guys would plan.” Ellie says with a morbid chuckle, “It’s the least I can do. I feel like I owe it to him, ya know? We were about to turn a new leaf— I was going to invite him to watch a movie with me and Dina that night.” She sighs a tired sigh, her voice sounding like she is crying but no tears come. “Maybe, if I had just asked, Joel wouldn’t have been home. That this wouldn’t have happened. That he wouldn’t be dead.” Ellie’s voice breaks on the last word, her tears finally falling as Maria and Tommy hush her, cradling the young girl in their arms. 

Joel felt his whole body go cold. He was dead? How could he not remember dying? How could he not remember seeing Ellie? What in the fuck is going on. This has to be some sick fucking joke that they’re all playing, some weird April fools prank that his old heart couldn’t fucking handle. God, he was gonna give it to Tommy once they snapped out of it. 

“I’m gonna go check out the spot you guys picked. Make sure it’s not shit.” Ellie mumbles softly into Maria’s shoulder, her brash comments eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. 

“Alright kiddo, you know where to find us.” Tommy quietly replies, pulling out a chair to sit at the table filled with Joel’s belongings. 

Ellie’s footsteps slowed as she approached the quiet cemetery. Joel waited impatiently for the rest of the gang to sneak up on him and spook him, or shove him into an open grave as the cherry on top of their sick joke. 

But there was something about the solemn look on Ellie’s face that scared Joel. Her usually bright eyes were dark and sunken, red lining the amber of her eyes and her voice was raspy and aged. She couldn’t be this good of an actress, her inability to hold in a giggle when reciting her dad jokes was more than enough evidence to prove that she couldn’t act if her life depended on it.

Was this why everyone had been acting so strangely today? Because they were mourning him? But he woke up in his bed, like he did every day…? Was this purgatory? Oh fuck, is this hell??

No— Joel is not dead. He can’t be. He fucking woke up this morning and went to work! The way he does every day. This is a sick joke as payback for Joel mistreating everyone, some twisted version of a Christmas Carol where Joel will come out the other end redeemed and live happily ever after…after apologizing to Tommy and Ellie.

His logic made sense until Ellie stopped in front of a grave; a 6 foot abyss staring right back at her, threatening to suck her in. The dirt was piled beside the ashy grey tombstone that harshly read Joel Miller across the top. 

“Fuck you, Joel.” Ellie solemnly curses under her breath, sitting beside the heavy stone. She slowly leaned onto it, imagining it were Joel’s broad shoulder. “I’m so mad at you for dying.” She adds slowly, picking up a small rock and starting to build a pile beside the tombstone. “You promised me so many things, and now you’re dead. All because of me.” Ellie cries, wiping her snot and running tears on her sleeve, “you didn’t even finish teaching me that stupid song.” 

Joel couldn’t believe the sight before him. That was his name scrawled across that tombstone, matching the one his parents had, similar to the one Sarah deserved to have. He was dead and in a few short hours, his cold, dead, battered body would be buried in that hole in the ground, like the many bodies Joel had buried in his twenty plus years of living in this hellscape. 

He felt so incomplete. He wanted to live! He wanted to live for Sarah.

There was a reason that bullet hadn’t killed him! He was meant to live! He had so much left to teach Ellie. Memories to create with his small family, traditions for him and Tommy to pass along to their kids. Fuck, Tommy— he died and the last words Joel said to his brother were so despicable that he couldn’t even bear to repeat them to himself. He didn’t get to tell a single one of them that he loved them, let alone how much. And selfishly? He died without hearing it back.

Joel knew that it was over, but he was so scared. Was this how Sarah felt when she died? What happens now!? His life was just starting to begin again, and now it’s gone. It’s over.

Picking up the final rock to her small pile, similar to the one she watched Joel build after Tess died, she sighed, the look of fear and grief filling her eyes, a look Joel knew all too well. “I’m going to miss you every day for the rest of my life.” She whispers softly, her voice breaking on almost every word. In a blurred mess of tears, she places the final stone at the top of the pile beside Joel’s resting place, and with one final sob she stands up wiping her hands on her jeans before turning back to the front gates of the cemetery. 

When that bastard Orpheus finally died, he was reunited with his love, Eurydice, who greeted him into the afterlife. But that was only a myth, a tale made up to teach you a lesson. Maybe that’s exactly it. Maybe this was Joel’s lesson— or punishment, for all the cruel misdeeds he committed in order to survive this hellscape they called life. He had hoped many times that if God were real, he would be reunited with Sarah when his time came. That seeing her bright, smiling face once more would ease his grief of his life ending and provide him a comfort he had desired for decades. That last look back to bring him peace in his final moments.

But this isn’t a myth. Sarah wasn’t here, waiting for him to appear, to hold his hand once more and help him cross over in their long awaited reunion.

No one held him in their arms as life slowly drained from his eyes, and his pulse started to slow, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to calm his fear. He was alone. Even in death, no one looked back for Joel Miller.  

tag list: @evolnoomym @mrsmando @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @picketniffler @letsgobarbs @itsokbbygrl @marilovespedro @syd-djarin

(if you don’t want to be included in my tag list, pls let me know!! I just wanted to add names for folks who I thought may be interested in reading this 🤍)

[f1-stuff]

You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?

Love your work <33333

Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...

The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...

“Charles.”

Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.

“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”

“What?” he frowns. “Why?”

“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”

“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”

His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.

Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.

It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.

“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”

“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”

Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.

“Well...if you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.

Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.

“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”

“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”

Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.

“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.

“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.

“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”

Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.

Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)

****

“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”

Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.

Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.

“Is he this pretty in person?”

Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”

“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”

“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”

Ah. That changes things, indeed.

“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”

Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.

“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”

Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.

“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 18: Snake Den

Content warning: description of corpses, mass death, implications of rape, misogyny

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

I Am Stretched On Your Grave - Johnny Hollow Kassidat El Hakka - SEXWITCH

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19

“My Lady, please, don’t do this.”

Ren hovers anxiously beside you in the stables, her voice tightening as she watches you prepare to leave the shrine.

The mare gifted to you by the King of Curses—whom you've named Ayana after your mother—stands ready, her tack fitted. Your small travelling trunk, containing only a few essentials, rests near her flank, secured to the saddle with several straps. Inside, there’s just enough food for the journey and a thin cotton blanket from your wardrobe.

“I’ll only be gone for a few days,” you say, attempting to soothe your attendant’s fraying nerves while fastening the bridle to Ayana’s slender head.

The mare’s ears swivel at your touch. Her skittishness is apparent. You know forming a stronger bond with her will be crucial in the coming days, lest she act unpredictably while riding.

Stepping to the side, you bring her a bucket of water. She drinks, and you tangle a gloved hand in the silver-grey tendrils of her mane. Unlike the silk gloves you usually wear, today, you’ve opted for leather ones to steady your grip for the ride ahead. The material feels rough against your skin, but it’s necessary.

“Please, my Lady. Master Sukuna will be furious if anything happens to you,” Ren urges again.

Isn’t he always furious?

You glance over your shoulder at her, patting Ayana’s dappled coat once more before setting the bucket down.

Ren had caught you just as you left your chambers to change into something more suitable. She’s been trying to persuade you to stay, but your mind is already set. Your sister is the priority—she always has been. You only plan to ride to the Kasai clan compound to lay eyes on her. Then you’ll turn around and return before Sukuna even notices you’ve been gone.

You shake your head, and your hair, tied back at the nape, sways lightly with the movement.

“I need to see my sister, Ren,” you say firmly.

With your back turned to her, your hands move to the saddle’s leather straps, double-checking that everything is secure and ready to mount.

“But my Lady, the road can be dangerous.”

Yes, as a woman, you know this all too well—especially leaving without an escort.

Still, you're not overly concerned about the journey itself. Ren doesn’t know, but if anyone comes too close, you can easily press your fingertips to their skin and watch them rot into nothing but viscous flesh. Although you'd prefer to use your ability from a distance, you're not entirely sure if it's even possible to have long-range control.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You pull the last strap tight. “Just keep yourself occupied. I’ll be back before you realize.” 

Peeking over your shoulder, you find your attendant has already gone.

You huff at her persistence, but a small sense of relief curls around you. It’s comforting to know that someone like Ren cares enough to worry.

Which, in turn, is nice to feel every once in a while.

After making the final preparations, you mount the mare and guide her out of the stables into the afternoon light. As you cross the shrine’s grounds, a figure steps down from the stone entrance—dressed in white with a dark haori. Uraume.

Well, shit.

They cross towards you, slow their pace, and stop before you.

“My Lady,” they say, tucking their hands comfortably into their sleeves.

You nod.

“Uraume.”

They incline their head slightly, studying you from where you sit atop the horse. Though you are about the same height, the elevated position gives you the advantage.

“Ren tells me you’re heading home.” They study your mare, the saddle, your trunk. “I wasn’t aware that Master Sukuna had permitted this.”

You swallow. There’s an accusation in their words.

“He didn’t... But he’s not here.” You tighten your grip on the reins. “If I leave now, he’ll never know.”

Uraume cocks their chin, considering you.

“That’s if you leave.”

A breeze tousles their pristine white hair, lifting the red streak that stains it from back to side.

You inhale sharply.

“Please,” you murmur, “just this once. I’ve asked for so little since I arrived here.”

Silence.

They take one, small step.

Something stirs in their expression.

“Are you asking me to be disloyal?” They take another step forward. The air begins to chill, stabbing at your skin. “To betray Master Sukuna’s trust?”

“No... but you know better than anyone that I’ve had no word from my family.” Your teeth begin to chatter. “I’ll come back here. I promise.”

At the word "promise," a whisper of chill rolls up from your feet to your skull, prickling your skin.

​​A distant, unnatural cold cracks the ground as frost begins to form in the mud. The ice snakes upward, invading the fabric of your hakama, winding beneath your kimono, and seeping into your bones. Your mare shifts uneasily, hooves striking the ground, her breath coming out in visible puffs as the temperature plummets.

Uraume stands serene. Still, their deep pink eyes fixed on you, seeing far more than you'd like.

This is their doing.

While the King of Curses is heat and chaos, Uraume is his opposite—cold and calm.

Your throat works to swallow, knowing their strength far exceeds your own—a power you can’t challenge and win.

“Please, Uraume,” you croak, breath turning to mist, swirling in the frigid air like spectres. Ayana whinnies, and you place a hand on her trembling neck to gentle her. “I just need to see my sister.”

The squall surges, and your eyelashes stick together.

“Please…”

The cold snaps and vanishes, retreating swiftly. Uraume pulls their hands from their sleeves.

“Then I shall accompany you, my Lady.”

“What?” Your voice rises in surprise.

They move toward the mare, and Ayana chuffs with anxiety, tossing her head and stamping her feet. Uraume quickly steps back, clearly cautious.

“Easy, girl,” you soothe, then glance at the pale-haired subordinate. “I will return, I promise. You don’t need to come with me.”

Yet, a troubling thought forms in your mind.

If something has happened to your sister—fuck, what if something has—what will become of you? Would your father force you back to the shrine or break this union with Sukuna? Would he even allow it? Or if Uraume comes along and something terrible has happened, will they drag you back here against your will?

There are too many ifs and too many questions.

“I made a vow to Master Sukuna to ensure you’re taken care of,” Uraume states, circling you. “If you’re determined to leave, I will accompany you.” They step closer but remain wary of Ayana. “I cannot allow you to go alone.”

Is that why Uraume has been so attentive? A damn vow? You run a hand through your hair, another realization hitting you. There have been too many of those lately, and you despise it.

“Fine,” you concede, extending a gloved hand toward them. They eye it before reaching out to take it and, with a swift motion, swing their leg over the mare, settling in behind you. There’s a moment of hesitation before they wrap their lithe arms around your waist, a chill falls over your back. You grit your teeth at the contact.

“It will take a three-day ride to travel north.” You peer over your shoulder at them, and they nod.

“I’m aware, my Lady.”

“You’ve been before?” you ask, curling the reins around your hands into a tight fist.

They pause for a moment, their eyes steady.

"Only once."

You fling them a faint smile. But their pink eyes shift away, signalling the end of the conversation.

Turning your attention forward, you give Ayana a gentle nudge. She begins to move, first at a walk, then a trot, before breaking into a full gallop along the dirt-packed road. The faster she moves, the more the trees blur past you.

Faster.

You must get home and back quickly—quick enough to outride Sukuna before he knows you’ve even left.

“My Lady,” Uraume speaks up, their voice almost swallowed by the wind. “Once we leave the shrine’s road, it’s wise to stay off the main paths. If anyone discovers who you are… they won’t hesitate to use that against you.”

Your fingers curl tighter into a fist around the reins.

Right.

The King of Curses’ wife.

It’s not lost on you, not for a second. Everyone in Japan likely wants Ryomen Sukuna destroyed—his name, his legacy, his very existence wiped from the world. Death. Death to the one who has many names and two faces. His presence is a blight on this earth, and as his wife, this stigma will likely extend to you now, whether you like it or not.

If only they knew that you, just like them, need him dead.

Besides, he is a blight on this earth...

Isn’t he?

With that, your mind wanders to too many things.

Has anyone ever truly wanted or cared for him outside of duty, obligation, or fear? Was he always this way, or did the world push him into this pit of cruelty?

Questions that you wish to leave unanswered crawl into your head. They bother you. The enigma that is Sukuna bothers you.

Why has he protected you if he’s nothing more than what others deem him to be? A monster

A sudden dip in the road pulls you from these spinning questions. You suck in a breath as the wind picks up, stinging your face.

With a glance, you look over your shoulder at Uraume.

“All right,” you say, “I understand.”

* * * * *

Later on, hours into your ride, you and Uraume have yet to speak a word. They might as well have been a rock with how lifeless they are behind you. The only time they finally seem to stir is when you direct the mare out of a wooded valley and up a narrow ridge.

In the distance, thick plumes of smoke choke the sky as dark tendrils coil against a fiery sunset. You slow to a trot as you reach the edge of a village, one closest to the shrine. It’s not until a breeze drifts in that—

God, the stink.

The stench of burnt flesh curls into your nose, coating the roof of your mouth with a foul tang. Your tongue swells as if blanketed in blood-soaked fabric.

Guiding the mare a bit further is when you see the first corpse—charred, leathery skin steaming in the setting sun. You press a gloved hand to your nose and mouth, stifling a gag. But a glance up reveals an even fouler sight. More bodies, hills of them. Men, women, and children lie in a mound, with flies and other insects crawling into the warm remains. Some bodies have been bludgeoned to death, soft skulls caved in, and pink insides spilling out. Above, crows circle, eager to peel flesh from bone.

The sight is so gruesome you’ve forgotten to breathe.

As you direct Ayana forward, you notice corpses dotting the village like blemishes covering the ground. A cluster of women have been dragged away to the edges, where they lay brutalized. Their garments torn open. Paths of blood drip between their bare thighs, signs of a struggle, signs that their bodies had been violated.

“What the hell is this?” you murmur, hands shaking as you scan the madness.

Ayana lets out a low, nervous chuff.

“My Lady, we must go.” Uraume's voice pulls your gaze away.

You blink.

“This is the outskirts of the shrine,” you utter, ignoring their urgency. “Sukuna controls this area… doesn’t he?”

Uraume nods sharply.

“He does.”

Bile slicks the inside of your throat.

“Did he… do this?”

Smoke thickens the air. It stings your eyes until they water.

“No, my Lady.” They speak firmly, and hardness cuts over their face. “He’s elsewhere.” Where? Northeast? Further? Uraume adjusts their grip around your waist. “We need to move on. Whoever did this could still be nearby.”

This village is one of many that he subjugated. What would he have done if they pleaded for his aid? Help them?

You can’t help but feel doubtful.

And otherwise, then, who? Who’s attacking his domain?

Your mare whines again, suddenly prancing sideways, her hooves stumbling over rocks and scorched earth.

“Easy, easy,” you whisper to her.

She stops but lifts her head, ears pricking. She senses something out there.

A heaviness clots the air—a pressure stirs. You glance at the bodies strewn across the ground.

“Uraume… where is Lord Sukuna?”

A faint high-pitched howl rises, echoing nearby. The hair on your body pulls up. Uraume swivels their head.

“He’s further north,” they murmur, eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Is more of his territory being—”

“Rider!” A disembodied voice shouts.

Your eyes dart in search of danger—a second howl shrieks.

From your left, an arrow screams through the air, narrowly missing Ayana. She rears, almost throwing you and Uraume.

“We must leave!” Uraume urges as a chill sinks into your back. “I cannot protect you if there are many.”

Another arrow streaks by, closer this time. Your mare tosses her head, the reins slipping from your grasp as you struggle to hold on.

“Shit!” You yank them, wheeling Ayana around as a third arrow buries itself in the spot you stood moments ago.

Squeezing your thighs, you steer her into a tight turn, urging her into a gallop. In an instant, she erupts from the village, dodging debris and bodies.

Behind you, voices shout and the thrumming of more arrows striking earth sound, but it quickly drowns out by the pounding of hooves and the blood rushing in your ears.

“Over there!” Uraume narrows a pale finger toward a forest that rises from the ridge ahead.

Without looking back, you direct Ayana toward it, not slowing until the swarm of dense trees swallows you.

That evening, you and Uraume share a simple meal—rice balls and dried fish—while sitting in the saddle. When the moon rises and fat clouds obscure its light, you set up camp by a river, away from the main roads. After what happened earlier in the day, Uraume stands guard as you sleep on the cold ground, wrapped in your thin cotton blanket.

The nightmare of your mother’s death comes for you through the night, waking you several times, drenching you in sweat, making you gasp for breath. Perhaps the thought of returning home stirs the memory. Perhaps it is something else. Sukuna, too, makes his strange appearance in the dream—watchful, waiting, just out of sight.

The next day, the routine remains the same: you ride, eat, and rest. Uraume sleeps in the saddle, always vigilant at night. The following days are no different. Though you encounter no more trouble, the aftermath of the massacre you came across lingers in your mind.

On the third day, the landscape changes. The ground rises, and the air becomes colder. 

North.

You’re close now.

A little further, and the air sharpens.

The massive estate comes into view, the Kasai clan compound sprawling ahead. Its towering outer walls are unnecessarily ornate, carved with serpentine creatures coiled in masses of scales and teeth. Giant yew trees line the limestone barrier, dotting the expanse like ancient sentries. Beyond that, the estate opens up, leading you into a barren courtyard. It feels as though the land itself rejects any attempt to soften it. Unlike the lush gardens of the shrine, there’s no greenery or vibrant blooms—only neatly trimmed shrubs and stony paths leading to the heart of the compound.

Dismounting, you and Uraume lead Ayana to the stables. You water her and leave her in an empty stall. There’s not a soul in sight. Not one. But after living here for twenty-five years, you know better than to trust that. You know what lies inside. 

Climbing the steps toward the grand oak doors, the air in your lungs begins to empty. Standing before them, you pause to glance at the white-haired monk.

“Uraume… thank you for escorting me here, and—” You pause, curling your fingers until the leather of your gloves creaks in a satisfying way. “For how you’ve treated me this past month. Truly.”

You dip your head.

“I do what is asked of me,” they say coolly.

You nod, reaching for the intricately gilded bronze handles.

“I know you’ll be anxious to return to the shrine. So I won’t be long.”

“I’m coming inside, my Lady,” they state firmly.

You stare at one another, your hand poised for entry.

There is no other way around this.

“All right...”

With that, you push open the doors.

The difference between Sukuna's shrine and the Kasai clan compound is the sound.

The shrine is wrapped in stillness, with its shrine maidens shuffling through corridors, robes whispering, doors rustling. Now and then, the lack of sound is shattered by the King of Curses—the screams of slaughter and death.

But here, there's constant noise and movement—people everywhere, men everywhere, attendants everywhere, concubines everywhere, crowds everywhere. Booming voices, raucous conversations loud and jarring, weapons always sheathed but never out of reach. A cesspool, a breeding ground for powerful families and allies to play.

Stepping into the grand hall, every eye swivels toward you—the room reeks—sweat, alcohol, musk.

Disdain.

The problem with the task your father has demanded of you is that only two people know of it: your father and Onishi. Your sister doesn’t, though she is aware of your gift, and once, so was your mother. Those are the only people. The rest of your clan remain blissfully unaware. And for most of your life, you've been kept relatively isolated, your existence largely tucked away. It's fortunate, really—if the King of Curses knew what you were capable of, you'd lose any advantage you have over him.

As you take a small step inside, it’s only a partial surprise when frenzied whispers ripple through the room. The men make little effort to lower their voices as you catch, "The demon's whore is here." Even though you’re the reason they no longer have to fight that demon, to them, that’s all you are now.

His whore.

Inhaling deeply, you force your feet to move toward a private chamber at the back of the compound. It’s mid-day, and your father is predictable. He’s usually there at this time—either mulling over territory, drinking himself into a debauched stupor before harassing the female attendants, or strategizing with Oinishi.

Either way, that’s where you need to go first. If he learns that you arrived and went looking for Yuna immediately, there might be hell to pay.

As you walk, bodies shift, leaving an empty path.

Keeping your chin up, you notice how the space is filled with strangers, people you’ve not seen before. Robes with unfamiliar crests embroidered into the fabric—symbols not your own. Their attire is richly adorned but styled in ways that set them apart—other clans.

Your father has been quite busy because it appears new alliances have been formed in the last month.

You keep walking.

Heads tilt as you pass, gawking toward you as if you’re nothing more than an animal on display.

“...oni bitch…”

You hear the first of many barbs. They keep coming. Raised eyebrows, twitching mouths, muttered insults, followed by boisterous laughter.

Your heart lurches and falls into your stomach. This place feels little like home anymore. Where is home if not here?

Your skin flushes with heat as a clan member steps forward from a pack of idling men and spits, the glob of saliva splattering just shy of your kimono’s hem.

“Welcome home, cunt,” he sneers, mouth rolling back in a smile.

You want to scream at them, to tell them the truth: your union is nothing more than a ruse, that you’re doing this for a damn good reason.

Without making eye contact, you circle him. With another step, you press down the corridor. The private chamber comes into view.

Nearly there.

You keep walking, almost at the doors, when a man jostles you from behind, grabbing your elbow. You whip around, and Uraume steps in closer.

“Keep your distance,” they hiss.

You yank your arm free, and the man lets go, snickering as he walks away.

You inhale deeply.

“Are you all right, my Lady?” Uraume asks.

“Yes,” you breathe, exhaling and turning, you—

Come face to face with a man whose dark grey eyes and sharp cheekbones stand out beneath a trim of raven-black hair. His lean, muscular frame suggests he's a warrior, and one calloused hand rests on the hilt of an eccentric-looking katana sheathed at his side.

Anyone might find him handsome—once, perhaps, you might have too—but now, he does nothing for you.

Odd. Frustrating.

Straining your neck, you notice he’s tall, towering, but not as tall as Sukuna. 

No one is.

“My Lady.” He bows, though his gaze lingers a moment too long on your face, appraising you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the second Kasai girl. And just as equally enjoyable to look at.”

Your skin crawls at his compliment, but you manage a smile.

Be obedient, be charming.

“And you are?”

“An acquaintance of your father’s.” He waves the question away.

You nod.

“But you’ve met my sister?” you ask, maintaining a courteous tone.

Lip curling, he steps closer.

“I have. Charming little thing. I can see the resemblance between you two.” He gestures up and down the length of your body. “Your sister has quite a gentle touch and a way with words, too.” He plucks a loose lock of hair from your shoulder, rubbing it absently between his fingers. Your stomach tangles at the unfamiliar gesture from a stranger—not someone else you try not to think about, especially now that you’re realizing only four hands are the ones you might ever long to touch you. Stupid. “The family heirloom turned out surprisingly delicate.”

You have no idea what he’s rambling about, but you nod politely.

“Yes, my sister is lovely.”

His gaze flicks past you, over your shoulder, then back.

“Where’s your husband? Shouldn’t the infamous Sukuna Ryomen be here to protect his newly betrothed wife?”

“He’s…” You’re unsure where the monster is. Further north? “...occupied.”

The stranger clicks his tongue, and a frown draws across a defined mouth.

“That’s a shame.” His hand tightens at the hilt of his weapon, his fingers stroking the small tuft of animal-like hair, wrapped tightly around where the steel emerges. “I would have thoroughly enjoyed meeting him.”

You sense Uraume shifting behind you.

“I’m sorry, perhaps another time.” You step to one side, gesturing to the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see my fath—”

With brutal speed, he seizes your forearm and yanks you toward him. Your head snaps back, body flinching at the sudden, unwanted contact.

“It must be very lonesome without the demon present,” he hisses. “You’re vulnerable, my Lady. I’d be more than happy to offer you protection… among—” His eyes drift downward, lingering on your chest, then lower to where your obi cinches your waist. “—other things.” His broad shoulders sag as if disappointed in what he sees, but a full grin curls at his mouth nonetheless.

Uraume steps in beside you, crowding close.

“You should watch your tongue when addressing Lord Sukuna’s property,” they snap.

His property.

His possession.

His wife.

Your teeth grind at that.

The dark-haired man blasts a humourless laugh, leaning back to gauge Uraume. He looks unimpressed.

"And you must be the King of Curses' most devoted dog.” He cocks his head. "Or should I say bitch? I’m not quite sure what to make of you.” He chuckles at his own crude words.

Your eyes narrow. Your hands prickling beneath your gloves.

“My Lord, or whoever you are,” you say, sweetness dripping from your voice, “as much as I appreciate your offer of protection, what I need right now is for you to kindly fuck off,” you snarl, trying to shake his tightening grip.

His nostrils flare, and his sharp nose wrinkles as if you've just spoken gibberish.

“Oh! Feisty!” He shouts, leaning into your face. “I appreciate eager women. But you should save it for when it really fucking matters.” Somehow, his features darken, brow dropping, eyes slitting until they twitch uncontrollably. “I wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out before the fun begi—”

“Zen'in!” a voice calls from behind. Onishi. “Enough playing. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes dart over your shoulder, surprised to see your father’s chief advisor stepping in. This brute of a man feels cut from the same cloth as him.

The dark-haired man, Zen’in, finally releases your arm, taking a step back, though the look in his eye suggests he’s far from finished with his games.

“Pardon for the rough introduction, my Lady. I am Zen'in Kaito,” he grins, offering a slight bow. "It was wonderful meeting you." Lifting his head, he glances at Uraume, jaw clenching. “I look forward to seeing you again. And perhaps, meeting your Master someday.”

Zen'in strides toward your father's advisor, and the two step aside together.

Asshole.

Onishi glances at you, beady eyes sharp, as if silently questioning what you're doing here. He doesn’t dare mention your task in front of Uraume, so instead, he claps Zen’in on the shoulder and walks away.

You watch them go.

Finally, able to breathe again, you exhale.

The fact that Onishi gave you that look, not something else, suggests that…

Whirling around, you grip the doors to the private chamber and throw them open.

Yuna’s lashes flutter as she looks up from the map she’s hovering over with your father.

Your heart leaps in your chest.

She’s safe. 

She’s alive. 

She’s safe. 

“Yuna,” you breathe her name with a desperate gasp, as though you’ve finally come up for air after being submerged for too long.

Her head jerks up, eyes rounding before a radiant smile spreads across her face.

“Sister?”

That smile. You’d gladly defy Sukuna a hundred times just to see it.

Only fourteen months separate you and her, with you being the younger. Your father had hoped for a boy the second time, but instead, he got you. Despite that, it only strengthened the bond between you and your sister. You remember rolling in the grass together as children, sneaking into your mother's chambers to try on her kimonos.

But it didn’t take long for everything to start falling apart.

And the fact that you were the one who took your mother away makes you feel like you’ve stolen something important from her. It’s something you’ll always try to mend, to piece back together and make up for what you took.

Yuna circles the table, kimono fluttering around her ankles. You cross the room in a heartbeat. Arms outstretched, you meet her halfway, your gloved hands reaching for her. Her arms come around your shoulders. You crash into each other.

The embrace is warm, grounding.

Safe.

“What are you doing here?” she sighs, leaning back slightly as she gently smooths your hair. “And where’s my brother-in-law?” Her gaze flashes over your shoulder, her teasing smile widening. “I’ve been eager to see him again.”

When you break apart, a laugh swells from your chest—wet and strangled, barely held together. It’s almost a sob.

“He’s... not here.” You lower your voice so only she can hear. The soft smile that stretches across your face is bittersweet, fighting against the sting of tears. “Honestly? I have no idea where the hell he is.”

She cocks an eyebrow.

You laugh a little harder this time, and a tear slips down your cheek from the relief you feel. Your leather gloves creak as you hastily wipe them away.

“You came here alone?” Yuna watches you, her smile gentle, mirroring your own.

You shake your head.

“Uraume escorted me,” you say.

Yuna shifts, peering at the white-haired monk.

“Hello.”

You don’t look back, but you hear Uraume utter a soft “Lady Yuna.”

Over your sister’s shoulder, your father glares at you. You pull your sister in close again. With only so much time to spare, you have questions to ask.

“Yuna,” you murmur, “why haven’t I heard from you since I left? It’s been a month. Have you not received any of my letters?”

Her brows pinch together in surprise.

“I have,” she replies, confused. “And I’ve sent many in return. Father, too.”

Your stomach tightens. So they’ve been writing to you all along. Why haven’t any of their letters arrived? 

Tentatively, you glance over your shoulder at Uraume, standing stoically at the doorway, hands tucked into their haori. Their face betrays nothing, but you know they’ve been truthful about the lack of communication. That leaves only one possible explanation: someone back at the shrine is sabotaging your correspondence.

You turn back to Yuna, smiling.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just happy to see you.”

Yuna’s lip twitches, and her hands slide up to your wrists, fingertips gliding over the tops of your gloves to your skin. She might be one, if not the only person whose touch you tolerate.

“Are you here for long?” She holds on for a moment longer. “We’ll find some time to talk together—alone,” she whispers, her eyes cutting to the side as if indicating your father.

You don’t exactly have time to spare. You’ve laid eyes on her; she’s safe, and now you need to return to the shrine. But your mouth moves.

“Yes, we’ll do that.”

Her face lights up.

“Good. Then you can tell me all about how Lord Sukuna has been treating you.” Her tone turns playful, and you snort.

“Yes. I suppose.”

Absolutely not.

“Daughter.” Your father’s voice breaks the moment, dragging you from this pocket of security. He finally moves from where he’s been lurking in the background. “I’ve missed you.” Liar. “Yuna, darling.” His tone turns smoother than it has any right to be. “Why don’t you take your sister’s escort here and keep them occupied? I’d like to speak with her privately.”

Yuna’s fingers uncurl from you. Releasing her hold, she steps back and nods obediently.

“Of course, Father.”

She steps toward Uraume, but they refuse to budge.

“I’d prefer to wait in the stables, Lord Kasai,” they say, bowing their head.

Your father waves them off, unconcerned.

“Fine. Yuna, leave. Take them with you.”

Yuna glances at you again before leading the white-haired monk toward the door. Uraume hesitates briefly, giving you a long, steady look.

You give a slight nod of reassurance. Only then do they follow Yuna out, leaving you alone with your father and the door sliding shut.

Quietly, your bastard of a father circles you like a hawk, scrutinizing everything—your clothing, hair, face, gloves, the way you can’t seem to make eye contact with him.

While he busies himself with nitpicking your very existence, your eyes dance over to the table where he had been standing earlier, examining a map of parchment.

Stones of various sizes and colours are scattered across it. At first glance, you don’t fully understand what they signify, but your eyes are drawn to the lighter stones—they rest on familiar territories. Northern strongholds. Your father’s land. That much is clear.

Then, your gaze moves to the southern side of the map, where red stones—jasper—cluster, pressing against the borders. Sukuna. There are so many of them, more than you imagined. Some are placed, winding up within the north, then moving deeper. He’s been busy these last seven years.

But what strikes you are the black stones, fewer in number. They rest in strange, isolated areas, mingling amongst both the Kasai clan and the King of Curses’ domain. You notice one lying exactly where that massacre you and Uraume rode through three days ago.

Troubling.

Why the hell was it signified here?

“So—” Your eyes cut back to your father, who has circled you and comes to stand before you. “After a month, here you are. In one piece, I see.”

He sounds displeased by this.

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“And the filthy cannibal still seems to be alive.”

It aches deep in the cavity of your chest.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he sniffs, “useless as usual.”

You jerk up your chin.

“I’ve made four attempts to kill him, Father,” you say, forcing your voice to be flat and emotionless. “Like I said before. He’s tricky to pin down and get close to.” You lie. “That hasn’t changed.”

The numerous times you’ve hesitated to end Sukuna feels crushing now.

Your father steps closer.

“Is he now?”

There’s no need to answer.

His eyes narrow.

Your hair had come loose during the ride, but his fingers move to gather the last stray strands, pushing them over your left shoulder. You tense, sensing that he's noticed something you’ve missed while scrutinizing you.

With your hair pushed back, neck exposed, he hums.

And then you realize. 

The scar. The scar that wasn’t there a month ago. The scar Sukuna bit into your neck the first time he touched you, when he had you writhing beneath him, your hands on him, his hands on you. And now, it stands as confirmation that you got close to him—but failed to take his life.

Sweat gathers at the base of your spine and slithers down.

“It seems.” Your father tilts his head, birdlike. “That you’ve gotten closer to him than you claim.”

Your throat tightens.

“I—”

“Has he fucked you? Charmed you, daughter?”

“W-what? No.”

The unbearable need to cower into yourself grows.

Your father’s mouth widens viciously, and his hand lingers near your neck for a moment longer before pulling away. 

“Do your sister a favour.” He walks across the room. “Kill him before it’s too late.”

Silence.

Your heart, no longer steady in your chest, beats louder.

You step forward and stop.

“I need more time.”

Your face numbs as you say the words.

He stops and turns.

“What did you just say to me?”

You clear your throat.

“I said I need more time,” you repeat firmly. “Two months won’t be enough. Lord Sukuna is constantly leaving. There’s unrest in his territories.”

Your father moves to the map, peering down at the scattered stones.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” he mutters, picking up a jasper stone and rolling it between his fingers. “I’ll tell you what.” His tone lightens as he steps toward you. “I’ll give you an extra month.”

What?

You eye him as though this is some kind of trap. It has to be.

You stare at him.

He stares at you, waiting for a response.

You nod, grateful.

“Thank you, Father, I apprec—”

“On one condition.” He steps closer again. “Bring him here for the harvest festival in two weeks.”

You still.

“What?” Convincing Sukuna to set foot on the Kasai compound seems impossible. He’ll outright refuse. “There’s no way he’ll agree to that.”

Your father smiles, gaze sweeping over you.

“Oh, something tells me you can convince him.”

Your mouth twitches at the insinuation.

“Why bring him here?” you ask. “What are you planning?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs and takes hold of your wrist before pulling it towards him.

“I’m not sure it’s safe to divulge that, my daughter.” He places the stone in your hand. “Not when your tongue might wag... or worse.” Your stomach churns. “Unless, of course, you have a reason not to bring him. But… your sister is looking lovelier by the day. And I know there are men here eager to make her a better acquaintance.”

“I’ll do it,” you say quickly. “I’ll find a way to bring him here.”

He smiles, eyes drifting off as he grips your wrists.

“Your mother would be so proud of you.” He squeezes harder until it hurts. “Of both her daughters.”

Fucking bastard.

You fight the urge to scream at him.

He pulls his hands away, leaving the red stone in your palm. It's small, but it feels as though its weight could sink you, burdened by what and who it represents.

“Now run along. Make the most of your time with your sister before you leave.”

You bow, then turn on your heel and leave the room.

Plans are in motion—whatever your father is plotting, bringing Sukuna here is part of it.

Walking down the corridor, you squeeze the small stone into your hand. The smooth red surface reminds you of his eyes.

His eyes.

You turn it over in your hand once.

A long passage leads toward your immediate family’s quarters. You take it.

The stone turns in your palm a second time.

“You must stay…” The stone turns again. “You have to do this…”

Your old mantra dies as you whisper it to yourself. You’re starting to wonder why your body, but more importantly, the space where your heart might sit, feels so incredibly heavy.

🔗 Chapter 19

[resowrites]

Illumë - Part 5 (ROP series).

Summary: A Noldorin elfs desperate situation draws the newly awakened Annatar back into her acquaintaince. In return for his help - and her freedom - he demands a price she’s reluctant to pay. With a final task to complete, she has the choice of falling at last to Annatar’s machinations, or finding hope for both herself and the rest of Middle-earth.

Pairings: AU!Annatar, OC!female elf, AU!Maedhros.

Warnings: Dark themes, forced captivity, coercion, manipulation, angst, ambiguity, character death/suicide, sword fight, mentions of threats/bodily harm/injury/blood, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 3473

A/N: Hi folks, I hope you enjoy this last chapter, admittedly it’s a bit rushed due to time constraints but I’ve really enjoyed creating this little series. It’s helped me get back into the swing of writing and I hope to post more Middle-earth fics in the future. As ever, this isn’t really ROP/canon based (though it can be read as a rough ROP prequel). Some knowledge of the lore is still required. Thanks again for all the interactions and if you have any thoughts, let me know - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Original gifs/pics not my own, no copyright infringement intended. Thanks for visiting.

Illumë - Part 5 (final chapter).

"Please won't you reconsider?" He looked up from the pack he was filling with odds and ends.

"My mind is made up, Andaeriel."

"But you won't even tell me for how long--"

"Because it's impossible! Do you wish me to lie and say otherwise?"

"I wish only for you to stay and marry me like you promised..." He sighed and came to her side, taking her hands in his.

"We will be married--"

"For you to then depart? For who knows how long?!"

"But I wish for you to join me! I have been begging for weeks and you can give me no good reason against it--"

"Because our life is here, why would you turn your back on everything we have built together?"

"So instead you would have me abandon my father in his time of need?" 

"Your father has gone mad, Maedhros! You know it as well as I do. No good will come from this ridiculous quest which I fear you also know."

"The jewels are his greatest creation, Andaeriel. He has every right to reclaim them--"

"But not at the expense of his own family! You know not the present state of Middle-earth, you could be walking into a trap--"

"I have no choice. If I let my brothers go alone who knows the havoc they might wreak." She stroked his cheek, cupping his face.

"But it isn't your concern, my love. You have no obligation to them--"

"Of course I do. They are my family."

"As am I. Your mother refuses to go, nor will she permit Amrod and Amras."

"My mother's choices are her own, as are those of my brothers. But I would ask that you not abandon me, not at such a time as this--"

"It is you who abandons me! When I wanted to journey to Middle-earth all those years ago, you refused to join me. You said it was too dangerous, yet now you would walk straight into Morgoth's lair!"

"Which is why I need your support! Please come with me, Andaeriel. There we could even have a land of our own--"

"Until you are slain? For that is what will happen. Morgoth will not relinquish the jewels freely. I fear that sooner or later you will all be lost..."

"I won't allow that to happen."

"Yet you would risk it all the same. Do you not love me, Maedhros? For surely if you did, you wouldn't leave me nor put me in such danger..." He drew her into his arms.

"I will love you until the end of everything, and I would never let you come to harm--"

"Yet still you would leave me."

"Please understand that it isn't my decision--" she pulled away.

"I'm sorry Maedhros, but... if you follow Fëanor our relationship is ended." 

"... You can't mean that?" She handed him back her silver betrothal ring.

"You've broken my heart. But then so too would the outcome of this folly."

"How can you do this?! It is you who has gone mad! We are one Andaeriel, you can no sooner leave me than I you." She smiled sadly. "What, what is it?"

"I will never hear that name again." She turned and sped from his sight.

"Please, please don't do this. ANDAERIEL--"

***

"On your feet." The chamber door burst open so quickly that she jumped from her seat.

"What is it? Why are you back so soon?" He soon cornered her, his face mere inches from her own.

"You warned Lindon of my arrival."

"What are you talking about--"

"As a result, I'm barred from that land, and the only opportunity I had to influence the High King and his people is now lost." He threw her to the floor with such violence the air was knocked from her lungs. "What do you have to say for your treachery?"

"I-I'm no... traitor--"

"No? Because I happened to intercept this letter not long into my journey." They locked eyes before he pulled from his skirts a small sheet of paper. "'Elrond, you will recall that when last we spoke I warned our enemy could make his presence known via stealth. I'm now writing to warn you that a visitor by the name of Annatar will soon desire entry into Lindon. Ask not how I came to be aware of it, but this is our enemy in disguise. What the High King decides to do is his choice, but I would counsel you to bid him welcome and write to me again once he is settled. Together we might then ambush him and remove his wicked presence from our lands once and for all. Yours in friendship, Ellethwen.'" He crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it to the floor. "You promised me your allegiance. Why now have you gone back on your word?" Still struggling for breath, she clambered to her feet. 

"Because they are my friends--"

"You said you no longer had any. Now I find that you conspire not only to ruin my plans but to destroy me!"

"So you expected to walk freely into the most highly guarded cities in all of Middle-earth? I told you they wouldn't be fooled, and besides my letter never reached them--"

"Yet you put them on alert. You told them I might come to them disguised--"

"All I said is that you wouldn't attack openly, which is again obvious--" he lunged towards her and wrapped a hand around her throat.

"The point is you intended to betray me. Is it that you now wish to live after all? ANSWER ME." He released her only when it became clear she wouldn't speak until he did so.

"My wishes haven't changed. But I can't let you hurt the people who care about me."

"You said you cared not for whatever happened in Middle-earth."

"Yes, and I thought so too, but after seeing them again I remembered all they have done and continue to do for me. I can't just cast that aside!"

"You lie once again. You can't even recall the last time you walked in the halls of the High Kings. It is the Valar who commanded you to help them, for if you don't you will never see the blessed realm again."

"That's not true--" again he stuck his face in hers.

"Cease your lies, we both know that is why you were returned in the first place. You are to try and stop me by any means possible. Tell me now why I shouldn't burn you where you stand!" A small, sinister smile curled his lips. "That gives me a better idea..." He grabbed her by the wrist and marched her across the room. Together they passed through the chamber door and found themselves atop a high peak of what appeared to be a mountain range. Directly in front lay a deep trench of oozing magma. The heat and fumes stifled the already thin air and made it almost impossible to breathe. He threw her forward, and she was lucky not to stumble onto the scalding ground. Already she felt it burning into the soles of her feet. 

"Where have you brought me?" A fierce wind picked up and she struggled to pull her hair from her eyes. 

"We are at the top of Thangorodrim's main peak."

"Thangorodrim?" A pit opened in her stomach. "But it was destroyed long ago... why would you show me such a place?"

"Oh, I think you can already guess. It seemed a fitting punishment to show you where your beloved Maedhros met his end." 

"You're a monster." 

"I haven't finished." He nodded his head towards the pit and through the vapours rising from the lake of fire, she could see the rough outline of a figure. When she could finally make out who it was, she dashed forward, only for Annatar to hold her in place. "You are to stand here and watch--"

"Let me go! Maedhros, it's alright, I'm here..." But the spectre didn't look up. He had instead fallen to his knees, as though he carried something of great weight. It was then that she saw the light glowing from his hands. Rage coursed through her, and with renewed strength, she tried to force herself from Annatar's grip. "Give it up! He can't see or hear you." Suddenly she heard a loud voice and felt her heart rent anew.

"Oh, Andaeriel... you were right. What a fool I've become!" Letting the stone fall to his side, he covered his face and wept. And she cried too. Whether this was a mere dream or something closer in reality, she wished for nothing more than to wrap her arms around him. "Everything is gone from me, but my love for you. Oh, how I wish you were here! You would curse me for a fool but still, I would beg your forgiveness. I'm sorry, meleth nîn. But I will make everything right. Neither this cursed rock nor Maedhros, firstborn of Fëanor, will trouble these lands again!" Staggering upwards he grabbed the stone once more, and howling at the misery of its touch, allowed both he and it to fall headlong into the pit. She screamed. Though he tried to keep her standing, her legs gave way and she fell to a sobbing heap. Even Annatar was taken back by the force of her grief, and the next movement she could feel was him crouching beside her with a cup of water. She grabbed the cup and hurled it over his shoulder. They were back in the chamber though her fury burned hotter than any volcano ever could. She tried seizing his neck only for him to hold her arms against her waist. She then kicked with all her might, and the two tussled to the floor. 

"Easy, easy... calm down. Calm down, Andaeriel!" He was on top of her now, trying desperately to pin her to the floor. But the sound of that name in his mouth enraged her. She spat in his eye, finally causing him to relinquish his grip. She made to follow him but found her limbs were like stone. "So be it, I will keep you locked in your body instead. Don't struggle, you will only make the sensation worse." She cried out, exhausted and anguished beyond anything she had ever felt before. "Now let that be a lesson to you. Cross me again, and you won't be subjected to mere visions--"

"Damn you and your plans, our contract is ended--"

"I say when you are free! And until you are repentant, you won't see the light of day again." To underline his point, he flooded her senses with pain. 

"P-please, please stop--"

"Are you sorry for your actions?" The agony became so unbearable she could feel herself blacking out. "An apology is all it will take for this to end, Andaeriel..."

"Never... I will never..." She lost consciousness before she could finish her sentence. 

***

She awoke thinking that she had somehow been transported back in time. She lay trembling and hot, with a familiar wave of nausea surging through her. But unlike her first few weeks as a prisoner, she wasn't alone. Annatar sat close to her, for once simply dressed, wringing out a wet cloth. His mouth and brow were pinched. "Ah, I'm glad to see you awake. How do you feel?" She stared him down but he refused to meet her gaze and instead continued mopping her forehead. "There now, you will feel better soon. I know you won't eat so I've prepared this for you instead." Before he could even attempt to cup her head she whipped the mug from his hand, dashing it against the floor. "You must stop being so churlish. I'm trying to help you--"

"You are the reason I lie prone like this to start with--"

"Which was your own doing!" He took a breath. "You must understand; I can't permit disloyalty. I put my trust in you and was betrayed just as quickly. You brought your punishment upon yourself and like a good father corrects a wayward child, I had to correct you. I will, however, admit that I allowed my disappointment to get the better of me and for that, I apologize. But you should know that I forgive you too and we will speak no more of what happened in Lindon." He placed a hand gently on the top of her stomach. "Now I also understand that the name Andaeriel pains you. So if you will permit me, I'd like to give you a new one--"

"I don't want another name." He sighed and wrapped his spare hand around her own. 

"... Please believe me when I say I wish only for us to become closer. For you to feel you can trust me, confide in me. I really do believe I can make you happy if you let me."

"I know it was you."

"What?"

"The fire in my limbs, the first vision of Maedhros... it was all you." He blinked and then bowed his head.

"And I'm sorry for that too. I had to find a way of keeping you here, of discovering your true feelings--"

"You not only impersonated the man I loved but made me believe he never loved me."

"That was your interpretation. I had no desire to remind you of the past or bring those hurts to the fore once more."

"Yet you did all the same. I can't trust you Mairon, you must let me leave--"

"How can I when you threatened to ensnare me with Lindon's help?"

"I will return to the Havens and live quietly like before--"

"I've explained to you already; there is no going back. For you or for me." He let go of her hand though much to her disappointment he made no attempt to leave. "I've decided that we will travel to Eregion, Celebrimbor is a smith and therefore much more likely to engage with my plans."

"We?"

"You must accompany me, yes. If he knows we are friends there will be far less suspicion. That is if Lindon hasn't already made him aware..."

"I won't do it."

"You don't get to decide otherwise. You promised me your service and this will be the perfect opportunity for you to bothredeem yourself and prove your fealty."

"But you don't even need me, through thought alone you can create visions as real as any scheme we could concoct--"

"Then perhaps it is because I want you by my side. I want the love and support of the Elf I... I..." He placed his head in his hand, his voice trailing off. The minutes went by soundlessly, and she realised that in quiet moments she could never hear any birdsong or even chatter among the guards. She started to wonder if the chamber was just another illusion, and if her true location was somewhere far more dark and dangerous.

"I think I understand something now..." He turned to look at her once more. "You want your life cycle to end as well. It explains how you go to these lengths, and commit such atrocities. You don't wish to be imprisoned like your master before you and so you run from the Valar, hoping that your next scheme will put you beyond reproach. That is why yousought me out when others might have better suited your plans. You expected me to help you, to do whatever it took to help us both reach the same fate. But the closer you get, the more scared you become. So you hope that we might be together instead, to avoid the loneliness that may follow you into the void as well--"

"You were the one who offered to take me to Valinor and reside there as your prisoner--"

"Which the Valar would have to agree to and is therefore the reason you refused." He leaned over and seized her by the shoulders.

"But you will finally be able to live by your own rules, to at last decide the course of your own life! An idyll already awaits you; the search for where you belong is over." He pulled her closer and she knew the moment had come. In one swift motion, she drove the dagger she'd taken from him in their earlier tussle straight into his back. He lurched upwards as she ripped it out and immediately knew she'd missed her mark. He staggered from the bed gasping in pain but turned holding a short sword.

"Drop the knife - I don't wish to hurt you." With all her might she struggled upwards and stood almost level with his bloodied chest. 

"Let me leave and our association is ended." He snarled and lurched forward but she blocked the oncoming thrust with a sidestep. She knew there was little chance of winning, she was too weak even for his injured state. But if she could justmake it to the door she might have a chance, even if Orcs barred her way. She made a run for it only to find he'd blocked the exit in less than a blink of an eye.

"You never learn, do you? We are bound, Andaeriel--" she wouldn't let him finish and again tried to cleave a path through the room. Together they sparred until most of the chamber was in ruins. At yet another bind he finally kicked her legs from under her and she fell with his sword aimed squarely at her chest. She had no time to move away and instead made to block his blade the moment he lurched forward. Breathless, he knelt over her. "Give it up, now. You won't escape, my guards have orders to kill anyone attempting to leave this tower unbidden." She heaved upwards as best she could, he could turn the hilt of her knife red hot and still she wouldn't budge. But slowly he doubled his strength and she soon felt his sword sink lower. 

Finally, she accepted there would be no reasoning with Annatar, or any other chance for escape even if she journeyed with him to Eregion. Ultimately it would lead to a war with Lindon that they were neither prepared for nor stood a chance of winning. But she'd realised her mistake in aligning with him and had done all she could to repair the matter in the time left. Her part in this chapter of Middle-earth's history was now finished. Annatar's eyes, alight with impending victory, went wide as her knife suddenly gave way. Before he could even think of halting, he tumbled on top of her, his sword plunging directly into the middle of her chest. His face became a picture of agony and for a moment she almost pitied the wretched creature now completely undone by his own hubris. "No, no... what have you done?!" He did his best to staunch the wound but her breath grew shallow. The light from the two trees of Valinor, and so many ages of their world since, was fading from her eyes. He cradled her head in his arms, swallowing back his anguish so that they might talk a final time. But his voice and the room quickly grew dim, and all around her came a sound akin to rushing water. 

***

"Arasinya, daughter of Arphenion, you are brought to these halls, as before, to answer my summons. Do you accept full judgement of your deeds?" Never again did she think she would hear such a voice booming in the darkness.

"I do."

"You are come by the actions of the enemy. Yet for a time you were allied. Where now stands your loyalty?"

"I remain both my own person and a child of Ilúvatar." 

"Then how came you into the service of such evil?

"I... believed it was my only chance to seek that which I desired."

"And what is it you want?" She hesitated despite already knowing her response.

"My answer is the same, peace."

"And so is mine; you will not be cast beyond the walls of the world."

"But I have failed in my mission. I was unable to stop or even slow the evil that will now befall Middle-earth..."

"Your charge was to aid your kin. And though others might argue the degree, you have nonetheless finished the task."

"Then what will happen now?"

"You will complete the path that all others must take."

"I am to go to Aman? Tell me, please, am I to be reunited with Maedhros?"

"What you will find, is yours to discover." Suddenly she began to feel strange, as though a light that made everything seem new and whole again, was filling her. And for the first time, in all the uncounted years, she no longer felt afraid. 

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

[trashjuicesmidrewrite]

Episode 6 >:) (MID Rewrite)

I had to redo the draft I had from ep 6 because I’m stupid and deleted it when I meant to work on it 🥰 I’m like kinda lucky tho because I spent way too much time introducing too much stuff so I guess it’s okay? Anyways enjoy my dinner (light snack) also for Lorelei’s boyfriend NOT ME FORGETTING JAKE WAS ALREADY A CHARACTER BEFORE WITH A WHOLE DIFFERENT PURPOSE. He’s a whole different character yall I just forgot the name Jake was already taken by the character 💀

Episode 6: Have an Easy Explanation for Once…

Lady Ki’s crowning sparked tension and fear throughout not only Chikara, but the rest of Daemos. All the royalty made sure to reassure their kingdoms they were okay, but not all of them were sure. Especially Garmon.

“It’s true that our tensions with Chikara have grown stronger before Queen Ki took Yakedo’s spot. Still, I’ll work night after night making sure our kingdom is safe.” Said Garmon during his speech

Hesitant applause filled the air as guards started to crowd around Garmon as he re-entered his palace.

The more and more Garmon began to think, the more he thought his speech was terrible. It felt as if he’d be better off if he hadn’t said a word. Could he really call himself a good king if he even did that?

In all honesty he’s been asking himself this question a lot these days. He felt like a cheater, smudged, dirty.

What he did to Yakedo had to be done, but what if it made things worse? What if his judgment was skewed? He did feel like there was some sort of change going on.

He could sense Yakedo calming down, something just got him riled up again. Garmon feels terrible that he panicked. Now Yakedo is suffering in some dungeon when there could’ve been change.

He wants to think it wasn’t his fault, but he also can’t blame Mothando.

Yakedo is a terrible Daemon, capable of things even the worst person couldn’t dream of. So he doesn’t blame her.

He didn’t know who to hold responsible.

Garmon couldn’t go further into his mind before a guard barged into his room.

“GAH! Oh heavens you scared me right out my head…what on Daemos are you doing?”

“My King I’m deeply sorry, I couldn’t find you and I panicked and…uhm…h-here!” The guard hurriedly shoved a scroll in Garmon’s hands.

“What? I-…thanks..?” Said Garmon while fumbling with the tie on the scroll.

When he finally managed to unfurl it, he saw it was from Mothando.

It read: “Hello Garmon. Apologies for the dry introduction, but this is urgent and I’m writing this quickly. I’ve told Yakedo about the decision Chikara made, and his reaction is peculiar. He’s starting to display something that isn’t sadness nor anger. It’s emptiness. We could blame the sitting in darkness, yet he’s been through much, much worse I’m sure. What’s even weirder is that he asked to see you. He didn’t hint at it or was cryptic he said it loud and clear ‘May I see Garmon?’ I understand if you don’t want to be near him, I wouldn’t either, but consider. By tomorrow preferably.”

Garmon’s eyes grew as wide as the moon. Why would Yakedo ask for him?

“My…My king..? May I take my leave?” Asked the guard still standing beside Garmon.

“Oh! My apologies. Yes, I permit you to leave.”

The guard immediately rushed to leave the room. Garmon thought it was odd how unprofessional the guard was, but he decided he may have been a rookie.

He thought he should do a better job at funding training for his guardsman. They’ve never been the strongest, and the only things that saved them from death were the animals they controlled.

Garmon laid on his bed still in his outside wear. He decided to sleep on his decision, this was a tomorrow Garmon’s problem.

Lady Grandma sat in the darkness of Chikara’s deepest dungeon bored out of her mind. She’s been through much worse by the clutches of her father, this was nothing.

“Mio…how’s my favorite grandma doing?” Said Queen Ki’s voice echoing through the hallways.

Something Lady Grandma wasn’t at all used to was Queen Ki using her real name. Throughout her entire life not many have called her that, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Queen Ki then became visible through the bars of the cell. She looked at Lady Grandma like that of prey.

Lady Grandma didn’t want to admit, but she felt genuine fear in Queen Ki’s present. When she was her student, she barely wanted to learn anything. Now she was preforming advanced rituals in order to get what she wanted, and Lady Grandma didn’t want to be a victim of that.

“I’ve…asked you to respect me.” Said Lady Grandma sternly.

“Aw, but you’re going to be my grandmother-in-law…if I get your blessing that is…” said Queen Ki with a sly grin.

Lady Grandma’s blood started to boil. If Queen Ki did anything to Hitoma, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Lady Grandma slowly got up, as a magical aura started clouding the space around her.

“I’ve let you take this kingdom, I’ve taught you magic, and everything you need to know as a queen.” Lady Grandma braced herself assuming Queen Ki would use her magic.

“Yet, I rather die than let a bitch like you marry my grandson.”

“Well then you’re not needed. That was the last phase of the plan you were wanted for.”

“What..?”

Queen Ki formed her scythe and sliced Lady Grandma through the bars of the cell. She was too quick for the blanchette to respond.

Lady grandma could on get a few hiccups and sobs through before the top half of her body fell to the ground.

“You were a great service Lady Grandma…I hope you live your afterlife in bliss.”

Ava woke up by her alarm that she still hadn’t turned off since she got fired. It was way too early to go out there, and she knew she was gonna be half tired till about 9:00.

She wanted to be a bit more responsible, so she decided to plan the day out. Remembering how her dads called her last night, she wanted a way to distract them so she could get rid of the odor that surrounded those five guys

At this point they smelled like ass and fish, and she was bewildered to know that they apparently hadn’t noticed until she said something.

She had to get someone who both knew her dads well and would get them to listen to them.

And that someone was Lorelei.

Ava felt really bad about not responding to her text. Even worse now that she needs something from her, but Lorelei’s her only hope.

She opened her texts, and completely ignored Lorelei’s last message.

Ava: Hey girly!

Ava started to feel dumb as rocks, because she’s never called Lorelei “girly” or used punctuation marks unless she wanted something. It’s hard to break old habits though.

Lorelei: Hi Ava.

This was even worse. Lorelei never used “Hi” without a couple of I’s.

Ava: OKAYYYY IVE BEEN AN ASSHOLEEE but yknow I need u for sumthin my dads r worried about me since YOU TOLD THEM ABOUT MY JOB okay srry shouldn’t use caps but like could you distract them so I can get the guys to take some sort of bath plssss????? 🥺

Ava saw the …’s from Lorelei pop in and out. If she said no she couldn’t blame her, she’d just have to face everything head on.

Then, Lorelei finally responded.

Lorelei: why do you call me girly for these things? I’ve told you it brings back memories and I won’t help you until you promise not to call me that anymore.

Ava felt even more terrible. Sometimes she forgot it was miracle Lorelei still wanted to be friends even after they broke up.

Ava: I’m sorry. I won’t call you that anymore.

It felt like centuries until Lorelei finally responded.

Lorelei: Okay I’ll help. It was my fault just know they called ME and I panicked.

Ava kinda figured they called her first. She knew Lorelei was mad at the time, but not mad enough to get her dads involved.

She looked at the time. It was 7:55. Still way too early, but there’s no way all five of them were gonna shower before nightfall. Ava then caught a stench with her nose

It wasn’t worse than what the guys smelled like, but it was still horrible. It was like a wet cat dog mix.

Ava then connected the dots.

That smell was her.

She hadn’t showered in a bit, and that rain probably made her smell worse from the other day.

She needed to take a shower, and it had to be without any of those guys noticing. If they did, she had to make sure they wouldn’t break down the bathroom door thinking it was some sort of torture device she was setting up.

She absentmindedly grabbed some clothes from her drawer, and slowly cracked open the door.

She saw all five of the men crowded around something on the kitchen counter. The fridge was wide open and looked like a raccoon that was being chased by a bear ran through it.

They were all breathing heavily too, and Ava could hear them all crunching on something with the occasional hiccup or cough. She guessed from almost choking on something.

She normally would be more than pissed off from seeing them roam through her kitchen and turn it into a pig’s paradise, but she needed to get this shower done, and this was the perfect distraction.

She quickly tip toed into the bathroom and locked the door. She tried to look for something to block the door with, but there was just a box of toilet paper, and that wasn’t going to stop anything.

Ava decided to depend on the lock and turned on the shower to get started.

“Oh. My. GODS. Human food tastes so good!” Said Noi while stuffing his face with pre-cooked pasta.

“Quiet down, idiot! If Queen Ava finds out we’re doing this, who knows what she’ll do…” Said Asch in a harsh whisper.

“What was that thing a human on the TV said? Foodgasm? I think I’m having one of those” said Leif while munching on a granola bar.

All the Daemons immediately stopped eating to look at Leif.

“What?” Said Leif.

“You do understand what that word entails right?” Questioned Rhys.

“‘Course I do! I’m not a dumbass, I was making a joke! You don’t know what that word means though, do ya Rice!” Insulted Leif with a rising temper.

“I keep reminding you it’s Rhys not Rice! Is it too hard for your brain to comprehend?” Said Rhys, losing his patience.

“Well it’s spelt wrong first of all! How come the scholars name isn’t spelt R-I-S-E? Your name is stupid!” Yelled Leif on the edge.

“Don’t act like yours isn’t spelt abnormally too. Shouldn’t it be spelled L-E-A-F?” Taunted Rhys speaking in an outside voice.

“Well how’s about both of you chucklefucks got dumbass names! Shut up and let me sleep!” Said a human on the upper floor.

“How about you mind your goddamn business before I come up there and burn your bed so you have nowhere to sleep!?” Shouted Leif genuinely meaning what he said.

“….okay…” said the human sounding defeated.

Silence fell in the room before Noi picked up a bag of chips and struggled to open it. Pierce later snatched it from him and popped it open.

“Thanks…”

Lorelei rushed to put her clothes on so she could make breakfast for Jake. Her whole schedule was changed, and she couldn’t lie, that made her a tiny bit irritated.

What was originally planned was that she’d wake up, make breakfast for Jake, gently wake him up so he could get ready, get a serving for him and herself, kiss him goodbye while he rushes to leave, get ready herself, go out to make good on a few brand deals, make a few unsponsored posts, welcome Jake back from work, make them both dinner, and go to bed.

It doesn’t seem like a lot but social media’s her job. So it kinda is a lot for her. Especially the brand deals.

She needs to go to Pineapple garden to advertise their new wine, and go record Puss’s Sporting Goods commercial for their new cat fitness line.

It was a ton of work, and to distract Ava’s dads of all people would be overkill.

She did made a promise to Ava though. Yes, it’s in exchange for something she asked her to stop doing years ago, but it’d be progress. That’s something she wants more than anything.

Lorelei burst through the door to make breakfast, but when she got there, Jake was already making it.

“Babe? Aw…did I spend too much time daydreaming? Gosh I’m really sorry…” Said Lorelei, who sounded like she was about to cry.

“Nah Lorelei, I woke up early today so I wanted to give ya a break!” Jake looked at Lorelei to smile at her, and Lorelei’s heart started to swole.

When Ava and her broke up, Lorelei was in a really rough place. The only thing to take her out of it was Jake.

His dark brown hair styled in a comb-over, his dark brown eyes, silky smooth skin. She fell in love with his looks but the way he cared for her made her swoon.

Jake looked like he was sweating bullets when Lorelei stepped out of her head.

“Oh shit! Does this mess with your schedule? Damn Lei I’m super sorry” Said Jake looking nervous as ever.

“Oh? Oh! No, no, no, babe you’re fine! I was just think how this kinda lightens things today…” She rubbed the back of her head while she grabbed her stuff.

“Why? Gotta film some stuff today?” Said Jake while he put some bacon on a plate.

Lorelei was going to tell the truth, but she thought of how Jake felt about Ava.

He kinda hated her, not in a jealous sense, but with a more “respect my girlfriend” type of hate. At least that’s what she hopes.

“uh, yeah, Raisin Garden and Puss’s sporting goods remember?” Said Lorelei already feeling bad about the lying, even if it was only a half lie.

“You sure did tell me. My bad I forgot babe” Said Jake while handing Lorelei her plate.

Lorelei wanted to say she didn’t have the time to eat her breakfast here, but Jake took the time to organize it how she liked.

She quickly scarfed down the breakfast by sections and put the plate into the sink.

“Alright babe, gotta go! Bye!” She slammed the door in a rush.

Jake waited for a bit, and Lorelei ran back in.

“And I love you so much!” She blew a kiss at him and ran back out.

Jake sat in silence for a bit before a lightbulb shown in his head

“It’s not called Raisin Garden…Pineapple and Raisin doesn’t even sound the same…”

Ava slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open to see what the guys were doing.

She heard two of them yelling while she was showering, but she couldn’t tell who or what it was about. She just figured it was something dumb and harmless.

Ava saw all five of the Daemons sitting on the couch, seemingly in a bad mood. Especially the purple dude and the green dude, they looked livid.

She assumed they weren’t gonna be in a can-do attitude, and she was honestly relieved. She wasn’t either.

Ava walked out of the bathroom and stood in front of the TV like always.

“Guess we’re in a mood today aren’t we?” Said Ava trying her best to not make any of them angrier.

The only response any of the Daemons had to offer was a few grumbles. Ava thought this wasn’t going anywhere so she wanted to get to the point.

“So you guys smell like shit, as I’m sure you know.” Said Ava while all five of the men smelled themselves and recoiled.

“And y’know there’s this neat thing on Earth called a bath. Maybe even a shower depending on-“ Ava was cut off by a scoff coming from Asch.

“We’re not animals, we know what that is. Just lead us to your nearest river and we’ll get started.” Said Asch while standing up and starting to take off his shirt

Ava started to stammer and slur her words out of panic, “WOAH WOAH HEY!”, She ran to grab Asch’s shirt and pulled it all the way back down. She pulled it so far down it started to rip at the top.

“Woah…either these shirts are weak…or Ava’s the strongest human alive…” Said a mesmerized Noi.

Ava’s face started to get warm as she looked up at a now shirtless Asch.

“Fuck…I made it worse…” she murmured as she backed away from Asch.

“Is this how humans take off shirts here? Weird.” Said Asch while signaling the others to take off theirs.

All of the other four Daemons ripped off their tops the same way Ava had accidentally ripped off Asch’s.

“Okay maybe the shirts are weak, b-but I’m sure you’re still strong Queen Ava!” Said Noi while fiddling with the shreds of the now ruined shirt.

“S-Stop riding my dick and I’ll get a bath ready!” Yelled Ava blushing hard while rushing to the bathroom.

Ava slammed the door shut behind her and looked at herself in the mirror.

She had to give herself a pep talk. So what if there were five shirtless guys in her living room? So what if her landlord walked in she be in trouble? So what if that whole incident was low-key her fault?

None of that matters! Because there’s something those guys don’t know!

She’s Ava, goddamn, Thatcher-Valentino! And sometimes she wishes her dads just decided to take one of their last names so her name wouldn’t be so weird!

Ava pumped up her chest and went to setting up a bath for one of the guys.

Lorelei ran up and down New Rune trying to get everything done today.

The photo shoot for Pineapple Garden went okay, but it definitely could’ve been better. She kept daydreaming and missing when people would say things thinking about how Ava’s dads could already be on their way to her house.

Luckily, the commercial for Puss’s sporting goods wasn’t till 2:00, and it was 10:30 right now. That gives her about three and a half hours to distract Ava’s dads. There was no way it would take Ava more time to get those guys to shower, right?

Lorelei almost ran past the apartment building Ava’s dad lived in overthinking things. She opened the doors only to see Ava’s dads walking out of the elevator.

The unnatural blond was Devon. He had a tan complexion and wore a light blue dress shirt with khakis. Around his waist was a dark blue flannel that had clearly been over worn.

The blanchette was Andrew. He was about as white as paper and wore a typical business suit with a pair of glasses. Lorelei remembers Devon begging him to wear something different, but she guessed he never did.

She was really glad she wasn’t too late, but she had to come up with something that could get them to follow her around. She was terrible at lying though.

“Andrew! Devon! Hi!” Said Lorelei with her voice getting more high pitched as she talked.

Devon’s head whirled seeming confused as to where the voice was coming from until he saw Lorelei.

“Lorelei! Hi! How’s my favorite person?” Said Devon speed walking on his tip toes to hug the brunette.

Lorelei slightly laughed at what Devon called her. It used to be “How’s my favorite daughter-in-law?” Until her and Ava broke up. She thought it was funny how Devon respected her more than her own friend, but she couldn’t start getting snarky now that she’s doing something for her.

Lorelei wriggled out of Devon’s embrace and started thinking of a lie. A lie so good, there was no way they’d think it even was one.

“I’m good Devon! U-Uhm…listen I need you guys for…” she was silent for about three minutes, which was totally not suspicious at all.

“A COMMERCIAL! I-I need you guys to film a commercial with me!”

Dammit. Dammit! DAMMIT!

That was probably the worst thing Lorelei could’ve said. What on earth would everyone on the shoot think if she just brought in two random guys?

She’s got to commit to it though. She’s not gonna break her promise, because she knows Ava might break it back.

“W-What? Really!? Wow, Andrew! I guess my TV debut is finally here!” Said Devon while fake fainting into Andrew’s arms.

“What’s it even for? What would we be doing?” Said a skeptical Andrew, “besides we were going to visit Ava.”

Lorelei desperately scrapped at her brain for something that would make sense.

“haha! Uhm…well Ava she’s…got friends! And she’s hanging out with them! In a completely different part New Rune!” Blubbered Lorelei, “Also…they uh need…A COUPLE IN THE BACKGROUND. Yeah…a couple in the background…”

Devon and Andrew looked at each other worryingly and then back at Lorelei. She didn’t wanna know what they thought was happening.

“Hey Lorelei, we should go ahead to the shoot shouldn’t we? We’ll drive.” Said Andrew while letting Devon get back on his feat and heading towards the door.

“Uh…yeah…Sure!” Murmured Lorelei not at all understanding what the two men thought had happened.

“Wait! Wait! Wait a minute! Not ready yet!”

“What do you mean ‘not ready yet’!? Why do you have to get ready for me to take my pants off!?”

“I just do, okay!?”

Leif and Ava have been going at it like this for about 20 minutes, but it’s felt like 20 years. The other Daemons have been getting sick of their bickering, and all they wanted to do was get this over with.

“Queen Ava, it’s rather childish to think of all nudity as sexual. Just let Leif get clean.” Said Rhys.

“Whichever smartass said that better shut up before I kick their nuts in!” Shouted Ava through the door.

All the other Daemons snickered as Rhys’s face grew warm because of slight embarrassment, “Ah”, was all he could get out.

In the bathroom, Ava was in the farthest corner away from Leif.

“Okay…maybe if I count down it’ll be better for me.” Guessed Ava while putting a hand over her eyes.

“You said that the last two times, but guess where the fuck we are now!” Leif huffed.

“A-Alright but I mean it this time!” Spluttered Ava, slightly peaking through her fingers.

“Ready?”

“You’re just gonna stop me again…but sure”

“three…”

Leif untied his pants.

“two…”

He readied himself to pull them down.

“one!”

Leif fully pulled his pants down and kicked them off his feet leaving him naked. Then he just stood there, not really knowing what to do.

“The hell are you doing get in the tub!” Ava shouted.

Leif was about to dip a toe into the water until both him and Ava heard a shriek from the other room.

“Mrs. Oats!” Gasped Ava shooting out the bathroom door and running toward the other room.

The four men who were waiting didn’t know at all what was going on, but they decided on rushing after Ava to help with whatever she needed.

Leif swiftly followed behind while struggling to put back on his pants.

Ava kicked open the older woman’s door to see a peculiar sight.

Mrs. Oats was chasing a fluffy purple cat running on its hind legs with a broom.

“Hey! Hey! Come on, would you really wanna squish me? Let’s communicate! Old hag to old hag!” Said the purple cat before squeaking out of fear while dodging a swing from Mrs. Oats’s broom.

“Who are you calling old hag? How are you even talking? Answer my questions!” Yelled Mrs. Oats.

“What kind of cat would I be to tell my secrets? Or was that a fox…ugh humans are complicated.” Complained the feline while avoiding Mrs. Oats’s broom like the plague.

Ava and the others watched the two bicker back and forth. The cat’s dodging skills were immaculate, it looked as if it was popping in and out of reality just to escape Mrs. Oats’s broom.

Eventually it got pretty tiring for Ava to watch a magical cat call itself and Mrs. Oats the many synonyms for “old”.

She looked around to see the male Daemons absolutely terrified. With all the shit they looked like they’d been through, a walking and talking cat is where they draw the line?

Yet, the more she looked between the cat and the men, the more worried she got. She wanted to stop the two apparently old women from fighting before she finds out whatever happened.

“Alright ladies! Time out!” Ava declared before cutting between the two challengers.

The purple fuzz jumped on top of Ava trying to reach toward Mrs. Oats.

“Yo! Mamacita! Lemme try to win this round, would ya? See? I know human slang!” Jeered the cat.

“Ma…mamacita!? Ew! The fuck!?” Ava cringed while trying to get the cat off of her.

All five of the men were horrified by the sight, but it was mostly because of the cat’s voice. It happened to sound just like Lady Grandma. Asch especially felt petrified.

“Ma…?” He whimpered.

The fuzz ball immediately froze and slowly turned to look at the man. Its smile widened, looking ecstatic to look at him.

“Asch! Whew! I was worried I’d have to run all throughout this place to find you!”

“Devon…Andrew…excuse my language, but…”

Andrew steered the car illegally left and right all throughout New Rune to get to Lorelei’s apartment.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOING!?” Shrieked Lorelei.

“We’re saving both you and Ava pumpkin!” Devon said triumphantly.

Andrew swerved and ran about two red lights before slamming the breaks right in front of the apartment building with a screech.

Lorelei felt she was going to throw up because of her panic. She was way too stimulated and felt like she was gonna burst because of stress.

The brunette squeaked startled at how the window beside her went down to reveal Andrew standing right outside. She hadn’t even noticed they got out the car.

“Sorry to scare ya Lorelei, but you should stay here while we handle that bastard.” Said Andrew while adjusting his glasses with confidence.

Devon snatched Andrew by the collar and ran towards the front doors of the complex.

“The hell do they- wait…no! No, no, no! Come back! Ava’s dads you got the wrong idea!” She banged on the car windows to no avail, as the couple had already disappeared into the doors

Mrs. Oats, the five Daemons, and Ava all sat on the couch before the purple cat that was apparently named Lady Grandma.

“It’s really you…? Does that mean you’re…” Asch didn’t even want to utter what he was referring to.

“Yup! I croaked! Don’t really remember how though…” said Lady Grandma completely fine with saying she’s dead.

Asch sat there in disbelief as the cat-ified Lady Grandma swung her legs while munching on some tuna she stole from Mrs. Oats’s fridge.

“W-What do you mean you don’t know!? Isn’t like the whole purpose of this type of reincarnation is to connect with Daemons with those same memories!?” Fumed Asch, admittedly getting more and more irritated at the older.

“I mean, yeah. I’m thinkin’ someone put a spell in my final moments that I could live peacefully with no bad memories. Which I guess includes how I died. And a lot of other stuff come to think of it.” Answered Lady Grandma while picking at her fur.

Everyone in the room sat there in silence as Asch silently did his best to hold back any tears.

Ava slowly raised her hand to grab the old cat’s attention.

The feline noticed her, “Whoops!”, she said while jumping on her feet on the table, “Forgot we had a couple a’ humans here!” She cleared her throat

“Alright so when a Daemon dies there’s two things that’ll happen to ‘em depending on what the family does!” Explained Lady Grandma while grabbing two sardines from a can she also stole from Mrs. Oats.

She held up one, “No matter what ya do, a Daemon will always get reincarnated into another thing. It’s just what we do.”, she completely stripped the fish of its meat, symbolizing it becoming something new.

Lady Grandma then held up another, “There’s a special spell that can let Daemons keep their memories even while reincarnating…except it’s only the good ones.”, she stripped the meat off this one too, except she chose a few pieces to stick in the head.

“Now,” she started while turning to Asch, “I’ll be honest, I’ve got no idea who did this to me, but if I had to guess it might’ve been your father or Hitoma…” she scratched her chin while thinking.

“What!? What do you mean!? What if it was someone…we’re not affiliated with?” He didn’t want to say “dangerous” that’d include his father and Hitoma.

“Listen squirt, if it was someone we didn’t trust I wouldn’t even be dead! I’d be fightin’! But look at me! Clearly deceased, so the kingdoms clearly fine…I think”

Asch was starting to get tired of all these guesses. Lady Grandma probably didn’t know a thing about what was going on. Asch knew dying was most likely not gonna be the happiest memory, but if she can’t remember much leading up to it, it had to be a struggle.

Asch then remembered something, “Rhys you brought that book right?”

Rhys’s ears slightly perked up, “of course!” He then formed a large notebook out of his hands.

Asch grabbed it and started wildly flipping through it. Rhys started to get anxious by the second.

“M-My prince! Be careful with that, I beg! I had to transcribe the whole thing myself. Th-There’s only one copy after all and they don’t let you take notes in it so I-“ Rhys nervously rambled, but Asch silently waved him off.

“Aha!” He declared, “here! In Rhys’s…legible…handwriting is this!”

Asch shoved the page in the fluffy cat’s face. She stepped away for comfort and scanned the page.

“Eugh, Rhys I forgot how…intricate your writing is…” said Lady Grandma as Rhys grumbled to himself about the comments on his penmanship.

With a bit of deciphering, the page read: “Of course, not all hope is lost. To help the reincarnated gain the ‘bad’ memories back one must take them on a journey of sorts. Bring them to sights and sounds that could jog it, or simply just live life. It takes time, and unless their mind proves to be troublesome, all should be fine.”

“Yup…I see it” the cat meowed under her breath. “One question, how are we gonna jog my memory if we aren’t on Daemos?”

Asch’s train of thought stopped as soon as he tried to think about it. It wasn’t possible. At least he didn’t think.

“It said to ‘simply live life’ right? It’s alien but here on earth is living life.” Said Pierce

Everyone looked at each other with a newfound sense of hope. Except for Lady Grandma.

“Damn it! I don’t wanna remember anythin’ bad!” Spouted Lady Grandma while rubbing her temples.

“We need to know what’s going on in Daemos Ma!” Argued Asch

“Well I’ll be damned if you get me to remember shit!”

The Grandma and Grandson went back and forth for what felt like ages. Mrs. Oats had at some point enough of it.

“Would both of you shut up!” Yelled the older woman, catching both Asch’s and Lady Grandma’s attention.

“There’s nothing I hate more than seeing a grandparent not respect their grandkids! If I had the chance to visit my grandson again, I’d gladly help him with anything for however many years I’m with him!” Mrs. Oats condemned while grabbing the cat by the coat.

“You’re only a kitten! You’ve got 12 years with this young man! 20 if you’re lucky! How can you call yourself a grandma if you don’t even care about your grandson or your own world enough to remember a few bad moments!?” Chastised Mrs. Oats while shaking Lady Grandma.

She dropped the old feline and it landed on its feet. Lady Grandma looked dizzy, as if getting fussed at by Mrs. Oats was a roller coaster.

“Fine…but I need breaks. I’ll be crashing at yours most of the time.” Appealed the purple fuzz.

“Fine with me.” Said Mrs. Oats while signaling for the cat to follow.

Before they went out Mrs. Oats stopped by the door.

“Oh and Ava!” She called out, “before y’all start doing anything, get them boys to take a shower. And take breaks! If they smell like that they must be overexerting theirselves.” Mrs. Oats then closed.

Ava laughed to herself until she realized what Mrs. Oats said.

“WHAT? No! You’ve got the wrong idea! They just stink!” She yelled, but Mrs. Oats had already walked out the door a long time ago.

Ava groaned, “let’s finish this bath day…” she got up and grabbed Leif’s hand to his surprise.

“This is why I hate Ava.” Fumed Jack.

“C’mon babe…don’t say that…” said Lorelei while trying to comfort him.

She couldn’t really act like she didn’t have the same thoughts about Ava at the moment though. She missed the meet up time for the Puss’s Sporting Goods ad, so either they found a replacement or it’s gonna be delayed to a month or more.

She almost broke down two times, and she hated crying. She’d be drowning in tears right now if Jake and her weren’t comforting each other right now. Being in a jail cell is a stressing thing.

Oh yeah. They were in a jail cell.

Ava’s dads had made a scene in the apartment check in center that Lorelei was in some sort of “kidnap” situation. They’d also blamed Jack for it.

Jack was detained for more investigation and so was Lorelei because she was apparently “too defendant of the suspect”. So now they were both in jail until the cops finally realize the two men were probably overreacting.

“At least I know how her dads think of me…” said Jack sounding hurt.

“Babe…”, comforted Lorelei, “Everything will be fine…it’s not like they’ll be in our lives 24/7.”

Despite this, Lorelei could hear movement from the other cell. She put her ear to the dry wall and could barely hear whimpers and sobs from the other end.

She’s never really seen Jack cry, he’s always been so tough. Hearing him cry made Lorelei want to wail, so she backed away from the wall to stop that from happening.

“Sorry Lei…” Jack sniffled, “it’s just I planned this to be a big night for us.”

Lorelei wished she could break through this dry wall, pick up Jack bridal style, and fly them to their apartment so they didn’t have to deal with this anymore.

“It’ll be alright Jack” reassured Lorelei. “Another night. K’?”

There was silence from the other end and she didn’t know what else to do.

Finally she could hear a door opening, and the jingling of keys of a guard. The man walked up to Lorelei’s cell and kneeled down to her level.

“Sorry miss, you and your boyfriend can go ahead and get outta here. Seems like the case was some baloney.” He said, and he got up and fiddled around to find the right key for the cell.

“This is ridiculous! No rocks, no salt, and you’re cleaning me like I’m a child! I am a prince!” Complained Asch as Ava scrubbed his underarm.

Ava mumbled curses at the man as she started rinsing the suds off him. The only saving grace of this was that he was the last guy, but this was a slog to get through.

Leif yapped the whole time about how long it took, and how he only really took ten second showers. Which was not only disgusting, but also you can’t count that as a shower.

Pierce just stared at her intensely the whole time. She couldn’t tell if she had preferred Leif’s constant talking, or if this was fine. It still unnerved her though.

Noi kept talking about anything other than the bath to distract himself that Ava was touching him. Ava could feel every insult that was building up over the past few days clawing at her throat to let them out. It was honestly a miracle she didn’t say anything.

Rhys kept asking a question about every little thing in the bathroom, it was like she was bathing a big ass toddler.

Then there was Asch. It was tiring hearing him constantly blabber about being a prince and how he should have some respect.

Finally, she was done. She threw Asch a towel and some oversized clothes.

Ava then triumphantly opened the bathroom door and crashed into the couch exhausted.

This accomplishment was only temporary, as she heard banging knocks from the door.

They must’ve been police knocks Ava thought. She then comprehended what she just described.

Those were police knocks.

“G-Gah! Everybody go in my room and don’t come out till I say so!” She harshly whispered.

“You crazy? Didn’t you say-“ started Leif but was cut off by Ava pushing him and the other guys into the bedroom.

She rushed to the door to open it as the knocking got louder.

As soon as she opened it, she was shocked with the sight of her dads in handcuffs with a cop between the both of them.

“W-What the!? What did you- what happened?!” Ava yelled.

“These two caused a scene at Rune Complex. They also wasted the police’s time with a fake accusation of kidnap.” Said the cop as he typed something up on his phone.

“We just wanted to see you honey, but everything got so out of control!” Whined Devon. “We’re gonna spend a night in the slammer…”

Ava’s face was now adorned with shock and looked at the cop looking for some sort of explanation.

“Don’t worry ma’am, that’s only for resisting arrest.” The cop put his phone away, “It’s only in county jail too. They just have to do a few weeks of community service.”

Ava face palmed and groaned into her hand, “okay…do I have to do anything or…”

“Nope” the cop cut off Ava “they just wouldn’t stop whining about wanting to see ya. Have a good rest of your night ma’am.”

The cop tipped off his hat and led the couple to the elevator as Ava closed the door.

She pinched the bridge of her nose while walking to the bedroom door. When she opened it, she saw no one.

She was confused, her room was kinda small so there’s no way five large guys were gonna hide in here.

“Queen Ava! Look!” Said Noi, his head peaking out of Ava’s wall.

Ava stared at the ginger with disbelief. That was definitely a solid wall, and there’s no sign of damage. Were these guys ghosts or something?

“C’mon! We can’t settle in until you give us your blessing!” Hurried Noi as he got out of the wall, and grabbed Ava’s hand to lead her to the it.

Ava closed her eyes and braced herself for some sort of impact, but it never came.

She slowly opened her eyes to see something that’d only be possible in her fantasies.

In front of her was a large grand staircase with a dark lavender carpet and golden steps and handrail.

These stairs led up to six doors each with corresponding colors that matched the five men and her.

Was this in her apartment the whole time? Could she just walk through this spot in the wall and be here? Here alone. Away from anything else.

It felt like a dream. Her legs were feeling wobbly and she could see dots in her vision. She couldn’t tell if she was about to faint, or her body was trying to handle this newfound excitement. She should’ve known it was a mix of both.

Ava collapsed on the ground to all the Daemon’s surprise.

As Ava started to lose consciousness, she could still hear the five men bickering about what they should do. She couldn’t care less right now though, she wanted to explore this place forever once she wakes up.

AANNNDDD WE’RE DONE. This took a while especially with the setback I stated earlier but I’m rlly glad it’s over. This was a really long episode and I really hope you guys enjoyed. Also I really hope you imagined Lady Grandma’s new form kinda like Turbo Granny from Dadadan bc that’s what I was going for lol. The next ep might not be to the same scale to this one but only time will tell. I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED.

[alpydk]

Coup de grâce

Zevlor x Astarion - Final part

I am sorry this has taken so long. Mental health went on a doozy. But here it is!

Read on Ao3

The walk through the hallways of the mansion was much different from how it had been previously: the floorboards did not creak like whispers; the portraits did not cast subtle glances as the trio passed. The place felt more as if it had been abandoned by the occupier than the labyrinth of nightmares it had earlier.

Marie led them past the grand hall, ignoring Cazador’s throne, which had been left donned in cobwebs and dust. “He mostly remains in his chambers now,” she uttered as she caught Astarion warily peering at each partially open doorway.

“Feel free to take it as an insult when I say I don’t believe you,” he replied, keeping his steps light on the scarlet carpet beneath delicate shoes. “Cazador,” he hissed, “was never one to act the recluse, and I somehow doubt he would take up the hobby since he completed the rite.”

“He goes outside from time to time. Dislikes the rain.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, hoping that Zevlor was feeling the same level of disdain for the situation. “No world domination? No banquets celebrating his unstoppable power?”

“Not since I arrived.”

There was little that could be believed about this. Astarion knew that if he were to have ascended, he would have flaunted his abilities at every chance he could. After all, he had suffered for the right to have such power. Shut away in the mansion was no different from being locked within the dungeon, a slave to the blood hunger and victim to pitiful compulsions. With those removed, why would anyone choose to remain?

“We walk freely,” Zevlor commented, alert for all sounds and movements around them.

Marie barely looked up. “For six months, it has only been me and the master. There have been other spawn, but they’re not permitted here. They’re just eyes and ears within the city. Our guest for the night will be keeping him company tonight, so there is no need to be concerned.”

“Thrown into nightmares, buried alive, locked in a dungeon,” he listed, “and you tell us not to be concerned?”

“He knows you walk with me and yet he isn’t here. What good would worrying do?”

The route she took them bypassed the courtyard, the morning sun glistening down on the cobbles, the once black roses now a deep shade of crimson. Astarion wondered if they were being taken back to the pantry they had entered through, or was the tour just another illusion to toy with their minds further? The bead of already clotted blood that emerged on his thumb, brought about by a subtle bite, told him what he needed to know.

They did not find themselves in the pantry, but rather in what had once been Godey’s kennel. The chains still lay on the dirt covered floors, the coffins of rotting wood unused. The dried corpse of a rat rested on a flea ridden blanket, frayed from the decades of use. The scent of death still lingered in every surface, exactly the same as Astarion had remembered. Too many beatings had occurred in that room, and it seemed even since he’d got away, they had continued only with a variety of different victims.

Scratching disrupted the memories that threated to flood Astarion’s mind. The gnawing and chipping of wood that if left with long enough would drive a person mad. Rats in the walls, the living amongst the dead. His sights caught Marie as she dislodged a stone from the wall, shoving her hand in with little regard for what lay in the darkness.

A muted shriek, scratching becoming silence. From behind the wall emerged a large squirming rodent, small pink feet wriggling in the tight grasp of her hand. Zevlor looked on with disgust at the flea ridden creature now kicking and biting for its life. Astarion, however, did his best to remain composed. He was a hunter, capable of taking out vicious bears in the forests, living off the deep rothé of the Underdark when able to get close enough to any civilisation. What he did not ‘hunt’ for anymore was rats.

“Hungry?” she asked, watching as his tongue betrayed him by running over his lower lip.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

A heavy silence was cast over them as Marie made herself comfortable on the blanket; the rat bit into as someone would a well-cooked leg of chicken. With blood-stained lips, she finally began to speak, hunger no longer blinding her actions. “You’re stupid coming here if you think you can kill him.”

Zevlor gave a quick side-eyed glance at Astarion. “It was a rescue mission initially.”

“Rescue? Ha! That’s a new one.” Marie tossed the drained rat aside, letting it join its awaiting brethren. “And who exactly were you planning on rescuing? Me?”

“Children...”

“Well, you’re about four months too late. The last child here was a noble’s daughter. Unexpected that the guy brought the whole family, really...”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed at the information. Was that child, her family now in the courtyard, or were they lying somewhere like the worthless rats his body longed for? “I’m sure Cazador wasn’t particularly displeased.”

“It hadn’t been part of the arrangement.”

“You mean his invitation?” Zevlor cut in, strategically piecing together how the vampire lord worked so successfully within the city.

“Not quite. It’s an arrangement with the duke and his consort. Anyone who is potentially a threat to the keep or a neighbouring territory is granted an evening with Cazador. He’s allowed to come and go as he pleases, has protection from the guard. Even if he didn’t have the rite; he’s untouchable.”

The duke. Wyll. It was one thing to have requests ignored on the premise of lack of people or time, but to be lied to? Astarion should have expected it. “Are you telling us this to gloat?” he snapped. “Another lie!?”

“Astarion-”

“No, Zevlor. You might have been here to save someone, but I’m here for what I’m due.” If undead blood could flow, Astarion’s pale skin would have rivalled the red shades now reflected at him. Anger was clouding his judgement, jealousy at the power that would never be his, hurt at his once friend’s deception. Amber eyes softened. Pity. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want concern or, hells forbid, love. Righteous fury, vengeance; that was what was needed.

A warm scarlet hand slid over his own. A gentle touch only once felt under the moonlight of a Sword Coast forest clearing. Tempers faded, a hiccup in the determination for revenge. “I want him gone...” was all Astarion could whisper, longing for his mind to take him to the darkened corners reserved for more intimate encounters.

“I know.”

---

What else could Zevlor had said at that time? Disagreeing would have meant allowing a monster like Cazador to be free to do as he pleased, just as it had been for the last six months. Agreeing would be to sign a death sentence.

For some time, Zevlor listened as Marie described the punishments she had experienced, Astarion’s gaze fixed elsewhere, as if reliving each painful moment. There had been talk of the duke’s visits, of a winged demoness that twisted words. The most difficult part to hear about, though, was the aftermath of the rite: of seven thousand corpses, turned to nothing but viscera, lining the walls, floors, ceilings of the dungeon and ceremonial hall. Marie had barely adjusted to the constant darkness before she was forced to work on cleaning, the smell and attraction of pests bringing attention to what had happened.

“Some of the children had managed to keep hold of small toys,” she murmured. “That’s how I learnt some were involved, though I don’t know how many. All bodies look the same when they’re reduced to mush.”

“She’s not wrong there.”

The unmistakably chirpy tone of Mattis came from the doorway, Zevlor’s attention instantly drawn to it.

Marie continued talking, Astarion slowly coming back to reality as talk of a plan became the topic. Zevlor, however, heard nothing of it; his interest set on the conversation going on outside the door.

“Mol said I can sell whatever I like.” “But that’s Cal’s locket, Mattis.” “Well, he doesn’t need it now, does he, Silf?” “We could give it to Zevlor.” “He doesn’t deserve it after what happened.”

Cazador playing tricks, guilt rearing its ugly head? What did it matter? Zevlor knew they were right, and the longer he hesitated, the longer he allowed innocents to continue being hurt, the more he was merely an accomplice. “We take him head-on,” he mumbled out loud, without even thinking.

---

Astarion hadn’t moved his hand whilst they went through each step of the plan. There was an odd comfort in having the weight of it keep him grounded. It was easier to pretend that he wasn’t listening, indifferent to each plan put forth. All that really kept going through his head was the idea that they could survive. But then what? Would he take over the mansion, get back at Wyll? Would returning to the Underdark be the safest option, or maybe after two centuries of torment, it would be best to just walk out into the day and feel the heat of the sun on his face for one last time.

There was an unconscious squeeze of Astarion’s hand. At least he wouldn’t be alone in his final moments, he thought, as Zevlor’s tail seemed to snake behind them into some type of mock hug. Maybe they would actually survive, be free to live what lives they had. Maybe a kiss would be more than a kiss.

---

“One gold that they die.” “Do you even have one gold, Umi?” “Ok. This button and a shoelace.” It seemed even Meli and Umi were against them. Zevlor had been hearing more and more snippets of such conversations as he and Astarion approached Cazador’s chamber, and the tension was starting to build. It had been decided that they would catch him unaware – or as unaware as a vampire lord could be caught – leaving little room for him to counterattack. A ridiculous plan; but then what else was there? Marie was to make sure his coffin was unobtainable, giving him no chance to regenerate. Neither trusted her, but then if they were to die, at least like this, it would be quick.

“Thank you.”

“I must be going mad, Astarion, because it sounded like you thanked me then.”

“Only for being a pleasant sight in these miserable conditions.”

Both knew it was for more than that, Astarion’s sarcastic smile let down by an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. Zevlor could only nod, unsheathing his sword and preparing himself for what was to come.

The door swung open; the pair stood armed and ready for combat. Cazador lay naked from the waist up on the satin sheets of a fourposter bed, the pale and barely alive figure of the noble draped limply over his chest. Zevlor was unsure what he was seeing: some type of diplomatic encounter turned sexual or a cat playing with its food?

There was no hesitation in his attack; his blade swung through the air with force, cleaving the wood and sheets of the bed in two. Cazador was too quick; the body upon him used a projectile and thrown in their direction out of protection. If the noble was not dead before, there was little chance he was alive after he collided with the wall, the dull crack of his neck sounding with the impact.

Astarion didn’t hold back, his sights solely on his master. A dagger tore through the pillowcase, another miss as Cazador became nothing but red mist and warped through the air. What use were blades against incorporeal forms?

“That’s cheating!” “Shut it, Silfy.” “You shut it, Mattis.”

Too many distractions, Zevlor’s mind still not his own. How long would be before he again was walking amongst those gravestones? When would the disfigured face of Cal appear before him, marking the descent into the Fugue Plane? Another swing of the sword towards the misty form, its movement halting and the ruffled onyx hair of Cazador appearing momentarily.

The cheap steel that had been thrust in Zevlor’s hands at the inn had some sort of enchantment on it. Nothing of importance, not even enough to be detected, but magical still meant something when it came to attacking a vampire; it meant they could hurt it. He brought the blade down again, filtering out the excited cheers from Meli and Silfy. Maybe he could win that bet for them, his life worth a button and shoelace. Better than nothing, he figured, as again the pale visage cracked through into the material plane.

It whisked past him, Cazador taking form beside the open door. Porcelain hands released wisps of shadow, necromantic energy seeping forth with little mercy. “Wretched creatures! You think you can stop me!?”

Astarion lunged forward, a dagger ripped into undead flesh, clotted blood staining glistening steel. The blade was stabbed into Cazador’s side repeatedly before Astarion groggily came to on the floor, the glassy eyes of the noble staring back at him.

“Oh, now he’s mad.” “Get him, Zevlor!”

The guttural growl Zevlor released as he brought the sword down surprised even himself, especially as the shockwave of thunder erupted forth from it as it hit the rug at Cazador’s feet. A spell? Was the oath to protect Astarion enough after what had happened in the Shadowlands? Had the dead really been so forgiving? Motioning the sword around his shoulders, Zevlor could feel as his muscles throbbed, his heart pounding as adrenaline flooded his system. A tentative whisper, words he had spoken alone at night, ones that had failed him too many times to count since he’d abandoned his oath. Would they work? Fiat Voluntas dei. The gods were listening, it seemed, as a golden light began to hum around his weapon.

“Hand over the button, Umi!” “No!” “Cal, tell him!” Zevlor paused, the name spoken, catching him off guard, the light of the sword flickering as doubts crept back in. Astarion lay helpless on the floor, deep, almost black blood seeping through his shirt. There was no time to lose. Another could not be lost through fear and hesitation.

Cazador released his spell, Zevlor forced to his knees, the air caught in his lungs, causing him to cough out the blood pooling on his tongue.

“Pathetic,” the vampire hissed in contempt.

Zevlor's vision swum, the shadowed form of Marie in the hallway watching from a distance. Blood covered her face, her eyes dark aside from two fire like pinpricks. “Get up,” she mouthed. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the children, would you?”

Her words made no sense, but then neither did the fact that as Zevlor’s sight focussed on her form, two dark horns sat atop her head. Red eyes were now amber like his own. The blood became one with her own skin, its scarlet tinge that on which he had placed soft kisses. “Cal?” Zevlor spluttered, reaching forward.

The dull impact to his rips made him retch, but his grip on the sword only tightened as memories of those nights flooded back to him. He had lost Cal, but he still had his oath. He would protect the weak, protect the children Cal had cherished as their own, protect Astarion. Zevlor’s knee creaked as he perched himself up, pointed teeth buried into his bottom lip to ignore the searing pain shooting through his body.

“Married to your oath. Lia was right about you.”

Those final words, Cal’s cocky tone last heard under the moonlight of the Sword Coast, was all Zevlor needed as he struck down the blade again, the smite hitting powerfully and forcing Cazador back. The advance did not stop; the blade erupting into a glow brighter than Astarion could stand.

Each command whipped out from Zevlor’s pointed tongue was another crack in Cazador’s calm exterior. The necrotic spells could not come quick enough against the fury of the paladin growing closer. Attempts to take the misty form failed as the searing smite caught directly, skin now singed and steaming.

Zevlor didn’t pay notice to how many times he slammed the sword down into Cazador’s corpse, how many times he uttered words to the gods and watched as flesh became blood became ash. There would be no return for the one responsible for the deaths of seven thousand innocents. It was a deep rumble beneath the mansion that brought him to his senses, an earthquake not of his own doing.

“Zev...” Astarion groaned, a feeble attempt to pull himself off the floor failing with the shake of the ground beneath him.

“He’s gone. We did it.”

“You did it.”

Was there anger in Astarion’s voice? Would it have been better to hold back? Zevlor thought to himself. “I did it to protect you. Let me protect you. Please.”

---

There was no time for discussion, a deep black smoke filling the hallways of the mansion as the pair sought out the exit. Astarion clutched onto Zevlor as they fled down the grand staircase, its base leading them to the main hall, large doors giving them a way out. Zevlor pushed with all his might, choking out the surrounding smog. He failed to notice as the sunlight split through the crack in the doorway, as the smoke filtered out into the streets of Baldur’s Gate and the world welcomed them with its mid-afternoon glory.

Astarion recoiled at the light, his eyes burning under how bright it was. What grip Zevlor had on him was lost as he pushed and shoved to get back under the protection of the mansion.

“Astarion, we have to go! The place is coming down!”

Gripping at his injured side, there was nothing Astarion could do. He considered which would be more painful: to die under the collapsing rubble of his prison or to burn up in the sun under the gaze of someone he’d come to care for. “I can’t,” he whispered, backing up into the shadows further.

“But you’ll die..." Zevlor pleaded. "I can’t lose you.”

“You never had me.”

Dying free was more important than anything to Astarion, to be his own man, or whatever was left of it after two hundred years as a slave. Being buried alive had never seemed so appealing.

“You can’t-”

It was pointless. Astarion turned into the mansion, the walls collapsing around him and darkness surrounding him once again.

---

2 months later

The city guard watched over as the last remnants of the Szarr mansion were carted away, nothing left aside from the ashes of expensive furniture and tasteless portraits. There had been survivors, the news reporting it as an arson attack. Silfy had stood on the streets yelling happily, taking the copper of anyone willing to hear the headline: Cazador Szarr missing!

Zevlor had volunteered in looking for survivors, finding nothing of what had become of Astarion or Marie. Attending the tavern each night, he would watch for vampires hunting, following them and looking for answers. Their numbers were dropping and still no sign of the pair emerged. He considered returning to Reithwin, finding the graves of those lost and placing something for Astarion amongst them. If truly gone, then at least there would be company in the afterlife.

Another drink was needed as a young woman cackled beside Zevlor. Her voice was like two sheets of metal scraping together, and he wished for once he hadn’t been so polite as to let her sit with him.

“And that sword. It’s so long.”

Three times, he’d tried to excuse himself and each he’d been met with another inane comment about his appearance. Twice she had tried to grab his tail only to have it sharply whip back at her. “It’s a broadsword,” he replied dryly.

“Oh, I bet it’s so hard to wield.”

Her tittering was the signal to order something stronger.

“Let me get that for you.”

The pale hand placed a few silver in front of him, black painted nails and a ruffled scarlet shirt cladding the arms. Zevlor spun in his seat, the woman with him looking insulted that someone would make a move on her man.

“Marie?”

She looked just as she had that night so many months ago, hair dark and healthy, her eyes bright and on the prowl.

“Care for a drink?” she asked, ignoring the scowl coming her way and with it the stuttered arguments of how he wasn’t available.

Zevlor grabbed a bottle, following as Marie led him upstairs. Maybe Cazador was alive and this was revenge. The hunt to bring down the one who caused such destruction. He knew he was wrong as the door was pushed open and seated beside the window was Astarion, chiselled features gleaming under the moonlight, an obnoxious smirk masking true happiness.

“I’ll leave you two be,” Marie spoke, closing the door behind her and shutting Zevlor into the room.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Two months he had searched, each stone of that mansion turned over, trying to find any sign of the lost pair. “You’re alive...”

“Undead, but almost, darling.”

Zevlor tossed the bottle to the bed where it bounced on the mattress. Sharp steps were taken towards Astarion, little care as to how aggressive it may have seemed.

Quickly standing to his feet, Astarion became wary of what was about to happen. “Now, don’t be angry. Marie, she found Runepowder. Brought the place down. She dragged me into the sewers.” His steps backed up, the window frame catching him as he found himself pinned between it and Zevlor. “I-”

There would be no continuing explanations as Zevlor pressed his lips to Astarion’s, as months of grief merged with a relief that they were together again. Instead, their hands found one another, the bottle became completely ignored, and the night passed into day and back again without either even noticing. 

[quornesha]

Prophecy And Symbolism of European Bee-Eater

The Following Channel is from higher powers, Divine, the ancestral plane and is prophetic through Quornesha S. Lemon|

Whether the European Bee Eater appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you will begin to see the animal kingdom send you messages. Some of these will be plain and understandable, whilst others you will need to decipher. You will receive confirmation through birds/parrots, wildlife, or even through visions.

For the most part it will be in your waking life that these messengers will come through. You may hear messages from the other side through this animal medicine or they could be prophecies that correlate to your present life/circumstances. The European Bee-Eater is a message that some annoyances will leave your life and a problem has already been resolved. You can rest assured that prosperity has arrived in your life and whatever/whomever was in your way before has now conceded. The European bee-eater is a reminder that you’ll come out of the months ahead shining and full of life. Allow your light to shine and show up as your best self. Give all worries and concerns or fears over to a higher power/divine and you will see it worked in your favor.

You will always be loved, cherished, and appreciated. The European Bee-Eater is a reminder that you deserve someone who will not only be a partner and on your level sexually, but mentally, socially, spiritually and in alignment career wise. Prayer is your power and you should utilize it. A Pressing situation will soon come to an end. Rest assured that what you are visualizing will come to realization soon. Pay attention to the signs. Nature is speaking to you. Beautiful things are on the horizon. It is ok to redecorate or restyle your home, as it is time for renewal. Misunderstandings aren’t your battle to fight, especially when your intent was pure.

Pay attention to your dreams and visions during this time as, you’re astral traveling to different realms and places. If you’re going through a loss (divorce, death of a loved one, job, career, etc) you’re coming into your peace after such a shock. You’re getting ready to ‘eat’ at tables only God/Divine has prepared for you. You’ll walk through doors no man can shut. The European Bee-Eater is a prophecy that you’re getting ready to sing, Whether this is literal or symbolic, your voice will be heard. People are drawn towards you as your aura is beaming. You can rest assured for good news. Your intuition/instincts is/are strong right now.

You are seeing through the masks of others. You know exactly what the truth is and yet, you listen anyway. You don’t have to be a safe space for others who take advantage of your kindness. Know when to say no. Because your abundance is growing. Pay attention to messages from all spaces, time and places. You are walking into your season of YES.

This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may encounter someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. 

Need further clarity or your own queries answered? Book your own reading as my schedule is full and I do not guarantee a reply on social media regarding this post.

If this is not you, then it is time to get clear to rejoin your tribe or the rest of the world of infinite beings. It's time to bring your light to the forefront. However, if you aren't able to invoke, heal or otherwise on your own, call on the assistance of shamans, healers, intuitive people, etc. to assist you. This synchronicity can possibly have specific meanings for you, it's time to get insight. 

The Gift that Quornesha Has can never be duplicated, She is a Shaman, Writer, Healer,  And Teacher with incredible prophetic/healing gifts. Please do not infringe upon her rights as the author. You are not permitted to reuse, nor are you to sale as you wish. This information has been made available to you for the purpose of introduction and demonstration. All rights reserved. If you'd like to use this in a magazine, online publication, or other, please ask for permission first. Legal actions will be taken if you proceed to impose. Be blessed, bless others and be at peace on your journey. What you do is coming back on you. Make sure that it is good, and all is well within you, through you and around you.  The source sees all and knows what you think it does not. 

[marianperera]

My take on "The Winds of Winter"

Because there's so much speculation out there about this book, I decided to add my own. The rest is under a cut because it got really long.

In King’s Landing

At Cersei’s trial by combat, she’s defended by FrankenGregor, who naturally annihilates the Faith’s champion. But while Cersei believes she’s won, she’s actually played into a trap the High Septon set for her. He has heard about “Robert Strong”, and not being a fool, he suspected there was something strange about the man. Plus, how likely is it that there are two eight-foot-tall powerhouses in the land, and the second one just never happened to be heard of until the first disappeared?

So the High Septon instructs the Faith’s champion to focus on exposing FrankenGregor rather than trying to kill him, and just as Oberyn did, the Faith’s champion wins a Pyrrhic victory. He dies, but he shows the large crowd (Cersei pressed for a large crowd, naturally) that there’s something very… off… about FG. The Faith then spreads rumors about dark magic, so now people hate Cersei even more.

However, with Kevan’s and Pycelle’s deaths, Cersei’s path to power is pretty much unobstructed. Her first order of business is to send Harys Swyft to Braavos (as seen in the “Mercy” chapter of TWOW), partly to do business and partly because she both despises him and suspects he was solidly in Kevan’s corner rather than hers. Her second is to press for Margaery’s trial, but the High Septon refuses to allow Cersei to pressure him into doing anything. He also permits Randyll Tarly to take Margaery to visit her husband occasionally.

Into the midst of this stalemate come Nymeria and Tyene Sand, the former openly, to accept her father’s place on the Small Council, and the latter supposedly to take up duties as a septa. Tyene hears the rumors of FrankenGregor, and the two Sand Snakes are incensed that the murderer of their father might have been resurrected somehow.

Nymeria realizes at once that Cersei is utterly paranoid about the Tyrells. She tricks Cersei into believing that Margaery will take advantage of the lax security during her next meeting with Tommen to escape to the safety of Highgarden. Cersei sends FrankenGregor with Tommen, and orders FG to kill anyone trying to help Margaery escape. The Sand Snakes stage an escape attempt that’s fake as all hell (a tip of the hat to their pathetic performance re: Myrcella in the show) but which isn’t intended to help Margaery at all—it’s meant to force Cersei’s hand. It succeeds, and FrankenGregor tries to murder Margaery. Tommen gets in the way, and is killed instead. The Sand Snakes and Randyll’s surviving men get Margaery to safety (the irony of Reachmen and Dornishwomen working together, except they have very different goals, since the Sand Snakes want to fan the flames of Cersei’s paranoia even higher).

Cersei, meanwhile, is happy to be reunited with Myrcella, who returned on the same ship as the Sand Snakes. Naturally, her joy turns to ashes as she’s told about Tommen’s death. She immediately decides that the stories about FG’s rampage are lies, and she’s convinced the Tyrells murdered Tommen, since Margaery has disappeared. At first she doesn’t want to crown Myrcella, though—for one thing, Myrcella is traumatized by the murder of her younger brother and by her own brush with death, and for another, Cersei remembers the prophecy only too well. Maybe if she doesn’t give Myrcella a gold crown, Myrcella won’t have a gold shroud either.

Then Cersei hears about Aegon’s march on the capital. With the Golden Company, with the support of Dorne, and with more lords flocking to his banner every day. And since Cersei now feels backed into a corner, she insists that Myrcella be crowned. The High Septon is inclined to suspect the Tyrells of Kevan’s/Pycelle’s murder, especially given that Randyll Tarly has decamped southwards with Margaery, but the demand for Myrcella’s coronation pushes the High Septon further from Cersei. However, he says to Cersei, he is willing to not only accept a queen ruling in her own right but to throw the Faith’s forces behind Myrcella if the stain of dark magic is washed from the new regime.

Cersei is hesitant, but she decides that since she’s got FG, she doesn’t need Qyburn, who’s becoming something of a liability. He’s not a very good master of whispers, since he was unable to find whoever murdered Kevan and Pycelle, and now he’s the subject of rumors about vile magic. So she tells him he has to leave, hoping this will buy her time to shore up her crumbling foundations. She actually fires him with as much tact and generosity as she can muster, because she remembers how Qyburn visited her when she was imprisoned, but Qyburn literally has nowhere else to go, so he turns against her (a parallel to Tyrion, who she treated abominably but who never really worked against her). Qyburn manages to get away from the Faith with the help of a few other zombies he’s constructed from the various people Cersei gave him, but in revenge against Cersei, he informs the Faith that it's true, Cersei dabbled in dark magic and human sacrifice and now has an undead monstrosity by her side (a parallel to Ned being forced by the Lannisters to confess to something he didn’t do).

King’s Landing descends into chaos. Cersei crowns Myrcella, but it makes no difference, because Cersei no longer has the power to enforce her authority and with the revelations of what Qyburn was doing under her aegis, the entire city now wants her dead. As an enraged mob attacks the Red Keep, she flees with Myrcella and a handful of guards, making for Casterly Rock, and the Sand Snakes part ways. Tyene follows Cersei’s entourage, while Nymeria decides to take on FrankenGregor.

In the Riverlands

Jaime realizes that something is very wrong, not just with Brienne’s entire demeanor, but with what she’s claiming. Jaime is a terrible judge of character when it comes to his family, but he’s generally better when it comes to other people (kind of a low bar to clear, but anyway) and he doesn’t believe that Sandor Clegane, for all his faults, is so vicious as to murder a little girl. Suspecting something is up, Jaime hides a dagger somewhere on his person (shout-out to Littlefinger’s “the hidden dagger”), and he’s never been more glad to have one than when the BWB surround them. Brienne can’t even meet his eyes, she feels so guilty, but she tells Lady Stoneheart that she brought him, so Pod and Hyle Hunt are released. Lady Stoneheart orders Jaime to be restrained so she can kill him. Jaime manages to kill one of the BWB. Brienne, Hyle Hunt and Pod take advantage of the distraction and fight back as well. Hyle Hunt is killed, and for a moment it looks as though Brienne and Pod are going to be cut down too, but Gendry joins their side unexpectedly (he saw how Brienne was willing to sacrifice her life for the children, and he’s had enough of what the BWB has become).

The four of them grab horses and escape. Pod is shot in the back by an archer (so the readers feeling pleased about Hyle Hunt’s demise get whacked with the empathy cudgel) but Brienne, Gendry and Jaime get away. Brienne asks Jaime to forgive her, but he says there’s no need for that, he understands about conflicting oaths (a contrast to his relationship with Cersei, where there’s neither forgiveness nor understanding). Brienne and Jaime bury Pod, like two parents laying a child to rest, and when Jaime sees that Brienne is sinking into despair—she couldn’t save Renly, she couldn’t save Catelyn, she couldn’t save Pod—he knights her and then gives her another mission. Get Gendry to safety, because Gendry is Robert Baratheon’s son.

With both Brienne and a stunned Gendry as witnesses, Jaime makes it clear that Cersei’s children are not Robert’s, so the Lannister regime has no claim to the throne. Not only is he done with lies, after seeing Lady Stoneheart, he realizes that his father’s machinations have done nothing but corrupt and destroy in the end. And at that point, outriders find Jaime and inform him about the complete collapse of order in King’s Landing, and Cersei’s flight from the capital. Jaime gives Brienne a what did I tell you? look and kisses her goodbye. While he suspects that the undead Catelyn Stark will have it out for Walder Frey and all his ilk, Jaime couldn’t care less about them, and there’s no way to warn Daven before the second Red Wedding, so Jaime (“I am amply provisioned in cousins”) writes Daven off and rides for Casterly Rock.

What Jaime doesn’t realize is that the BWB also knows about Edmure being sent to Casterly Rock, thanks to Tom o’Sevens. And the BWB has been growing in numbers, taking in northmen and rivermen who are survivors of the Red Wedding and who want revenge. Lady Stoneheart splits her forces, sending a smaller group to intercept Edmure’s captors and a larger one, led by herself, to the Twins. The second Red Wedding takes place, and it’s just as bloody as the first, though instead of Walder Frey sitting on the dais enjoying the slaughter, it’s Walder Frey sitting in the same place frozen with terror as he watches his family being cut down. Finally Lady Stoneheart approaches him and he begins pleading for his life, saying he’s an old man and he regrets what he did, can she forgive him? She chokes out, “Mayhaps” (or mayhaps not) and guts him.

In the Vale

At the tourney, Sweetrobin collapses and it’s clear he’s dying. In the confusion, Ser Shadrich grabs his chance and kidnaps Sansa, or tries to. She struggles, and the two of them end up falling into a pool of water. Brienne arrives and intervenes. She’s still got one arm in a splint, but on his best day Shadrich will never be as strong or as determined as Brienne, and he’s quickly overpowered, while Gendry helps Sansa. The commotion attracts attention and the Vale nobility arrive. Harry, a day late and a silver stag short, brings up the rear, and he’s stunned to see that the water has washed most of the dye from Sansa’s hair. Bronze Yohn recognizes her at once now, but before he can say anything, Sansa tells the gathered crowd who she is and asks them to defend her birthright from the usurpers.

She’s picked her moment brilliantly, and the crowd goes wild. Brienne is the first to swear fealty, but Harry is not far behind, since he’s delighted that instead of being forced to marry “Littlefinger’s bastard”, he’s actually wedding the trueborn heir to the greatest estate in the north. But Sansa realizes at once that Brienne didn’t fight to save Sansa Stark, she risked her safety for some girl she didn’t even know, and that means a lot after so many people valuing Sansa mostly for her claim to Winterfell. 

The happy moment is blighted by the news that Sweetrobin has died. Harry makes the appropriate sounds of regret, but it’s clear all his birthdays are happening at once. Sansa is much more broken up about Sweetrobin’s death, especially since she knows who’s culpable here, but she manages to keep it together. She knows Littlefinger is watching for any sign that she’s going off script. As Harry organizes the knights of the Vale for their ride north, Brienne and Gendry tell Sansa about her mother and sister. Sansa is horrified by the news of Lady Stoneheart, and sad that Arya has disappeared, though she holds out hope that having survived so much, Arya will live through whatever else happens. Gendry tells her a bit more about Arya, in a way that shows he still has a soft spot for her (even after meeting Sansa, it’s clear he likes Arya more). Sansa, Littlefinger, Brienne, Gendry, and the Vale nobility set off north.

In Dorne

Areo Hotah and Obara Sand track Gerold Dayne down and kill him. So passeth the Darkstar of Dorne, we shall never see his like again, and we are all grateful. However, in High Hermitage, they discover that Edric Dayne was apparently a milk brother to Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s bastard, and they also find out about Rhaegar bringing Lyanna to the tower of joy, which is where Arthur Dayne died trying to keep Ned from reaching his sister.

Then word arrives from Sunspear—Arianne has confirmed that Aegon is Princess Elia’s son, and Dorne is going to war. Obara rides to join the Dornish forces, while Areo returns to Doran’s side and discovers that firstly, Aegon has offered for Arianne’s hand, and secondly, King’s Landing is in chaos and the Lannister regime toppling. Doran has a glimpse of the vengeance for Elia and the Targaryen restoration that he’s dreamed of for so long. Except Areo then tells Doran about everything they learned at High Hermitage, and Doran starts putting two and two together. Is it more likely that the Kingsguard most loyal to Rhaegar died to defend his mistress, or died to defend his son?

In Winterfell

The atmosphere in the castle is claustrophobic. Everyone is paranoid and teetering on the brink of violence. Ramsay is having the surviving spearwives and Abel the bard interrogated, but it’s clear that none of them know where Theon and Jeyne are, and there’s no chance of Ramsay getting them back unaided. Then comes the news that the first attack on Stannis’s forces has failed spectacularly, resulting in the death of Aenys Frey. Hosteen Frey takes control of the surviving troops and regroups them for a second strike, convinced that Stannis’s men must be starving and frozen by now, unable to effectively fight back. He rides out to do battle, but the Manderly forces with him turn back at the last minute. In the blizzard, Hosteen Frey and the rest of the Frey-Bolton loyalists are lured to the frozen lake, and the ice gives way under them.

A survivor makes it back to Winterfell, and before he dies, he manages to tell Roose what happened. Wyman Manderly has been waiting for this, and he makes a dramatic entrance, injured but triumphant. He tells Roose the Stark boys are alive, Davos Seaworth is bringing one back, and the Manderly forces are declaring for Stannis. As a final crowning touch, he tells them about the Frey pies. The Boltons slaughter him and his few defenders, but the Boltons have lost and Roose knows it. Not only is the news of the Frey pies such a shock that it sends Walda Bolton into premature labor, but Roose discovers that the reason Wyman made this suicidal speech, with only a few loyal men about him, was so he could distract the Frey-Bolton men in Winterfell long enough for the rest of his men to escape, and of course they’ll be joining Stannis.

Barbrey Dustin decides to cut her losses. Ramsay is like a cornered animal at this point and just looking for anyone to vent his rage on. He turns on her in a misguided attempt at intimidating the Dustin-Ryswell faction. Roose tries to put Ramsay back in his place, and Ramsay snaps completely. He murders Roose. In the chaos, the Dustins and Ryswells make a hasty exit. Ramsay seizes control of Winterfell, and though it’s obvious to everyone that he’s got hours at best to enjoy his rule, Ramsay isn’t intelligent enough to see this. He sends the Pink Letter and braces for Stannis’s retaliation.

The Manderly forces meet up with Stannis and present him with a letter signed with Wyman’s seal, telling him the truth about Davos. Stannis desperately wants to believe this, but can’t be sure—what if this is a trick? He’s pretty sure, though, that the Frey-Bolton forces have been seriously weakened, and one assault on Winterfell should be enough. The northmen want the old gods placated before they make this assault, though, so Stannis turns Theon over to them to be executed before a heart tree. That’s when Bran speaks through the tree, and Stannis realizes that Wyman was telling the truth—Bran and Rickon are still alive. Theon confirms this, and the northmen reluctantly decides to spare Theon, though there’s a definite sense of “he’s going to be executed somewhere down the line, just not now, since he didn’t kill his foster brothers and we might need to find out more from him”. The one thing Theon doesn’t tell anyone is that “Arya” is actually Jeyne.

Stannis’s army takes Winterfell using intel provided by Bran, and Ramsay is taken prisoner. Turns out the Bastard’s Boys aren’t so loyal when their lives are at stake. Stannis has Ramsay sacrificed to R’hllor. His men are fortifying Winterfell when news arrives from the Wall that Jon Snow has been murdered.

At the Wall

Fighting breaks out between the Night’s Watch mutineers, the Night’s Watch loyalists and the Free Folk. Melisandre receives a vision about burning Jon’s body, but when she does this, with Ghost in attendance (because GRRM loves his puns), Jon comes back to life. Melisandre tries to make him use the miracle to calm everyone down and unite them, but Jon’s understandably not in the best state of mind. He says his watch ended with his death, and he leaves for Winterfell (still thinking that Arya is there). Melisandre goes with him. The situation at the Wall becomes even more chaotic… until the Wall itself begins to tremble.

In Braavos

Justin Massey and Jeyne Poole arrive in Braavos, since Justin heard about Jon’s murder, so there’s no one to return “Arya” to now. In Braavos, Arya hears about her supposed arrival, and recognizes Jeyne. She also hears that they’re returning north, to Winterfell. The Faceless Men discover what happened to Raff the Sweetling, and they decide this is the last such deliberate insubordination from Arya. Wearing a new face, she grabs Needle and persuades Justin or “Arya” to take her with them. Justin has managed to hire all the sellswords and mercenaries Stannis needs, so they return. En route, Arya tells Jeyne the truth (she’s returning home, she’s reclaiming her identity), but they keep it a secret for now.

In the Dothraki Sea

With Drogon’s help, Daenerys takes over Jhaqo’s khalasar, then feeds him to her dragon before she tells the khalasar that she is going to Vaes Dothrak (she remembers her vision in the House of the Undying). Most of the khalasar follow her there, but messengers peel off to contact other khalasars and bring them all to Vaes Dothrak. The dosh khaleen resist initially, but perform a ritual which convinces them (and incidentally, gets blood all over them, which mirrors the ritual they performed back in the first book and explains why they’re crawling naked from the water in Dany’s vision). The khalasars arrive, and Dany unites them, then leads the ride back to Meereen.

[colorfuldreamsmkg]

The Wind Extolling Freedom - Ch5 trial phase 2

As arguments seemed to wrap, with the contributions from Erika and Harper, the final lock of ‘why’ begins to glow. The chains rattle beneath its weight, as if trying to break free under the resistance of the secrets hidden within. A soft, unidentifiable voice seems to echo in your minds, identifying the final answers from your long discussion.

Erika wished to earn money and regain ownership of the store once held dear to her parents. Harper wished to destroy all SEKAIs for the sake of Alette and sought to gain this ability through Miku Prime. Miku Prime grew jealous of the human experience, and wished to feed upon their emotions for power in the human realm, and to experience the full range of human emotions herself. Lau Fei wished to bypass his lack of talent to use the deaths of those with strong dreams to create a masterpiece of a song and to be someone special.

The lock stopped glowing, as with a click and a clatter, it popped open and all the chains fell to the floor. The door swung wide open, revealing its contents.

Now, the door is open, and Library Miku doesn’t waste another second before running towards the open door. There is no Miku Prime to stop her. And Lau Fei has no physical form to race her currently.

“No!!” Lau Fei shouts, but is unable to do anything to stop her. 

Library Miku runs out with a paper clutched in her hands. Her grip is tight. She’s not letting this go easily.

“…I got it here, everyone!” she shouts.

“Goddammit,” Lau Fei curses. And suddenly, the screen he was on flickers off. It isn’t long you’re left wondering where he went, because almost immediately he pops from the ground like a jack in the box directly in front of Library Miku and snatches the contract from her hands.

In terms of appearance, he looks different from before. Different, even, from the appearance you’d just seen on the screen. His face is still the same, but the outfit…

It’s more like something Crimson would wear.

Dark red and black clothing, with white wolf accessories. A wolf’s maw peeks over Lau Fei’s head, glaring at the group of you. 

Lau Fei doesn’t even seem to pay attention to the outfit change, as he glares at Library Miku and snarls, “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Library Miku’s eyes narrow and her expression tightens. “I am…but I’m also on theirs.” She looks to the rest of the group. “And it’s too late. I already saw the contract, so I can just…do…this…”

It’s easy to forget this is also Library Miku’s SEKAI with how passive she is. Being locked away for months made her seem more like a princess locked away in a tower, but in truth, she’s just as capable of using this space as any other member of the SEKAI.

A hologram of a screen flickers on, projecting an image of the contract’s terms for everyone to see.

Miku Prime will help Lau Fei run a killing game to draw power from innate musical talent for his own use. In exchange, Miku Prime will be permitted to feed off of the residual emotions left behind by the deceased to sustain her power.  1. Neither member of this SEKAI may harm another. 2. Upon the completion of this contract, both parties will part amicably. Should either party violate this contract, they will lose all gained power from the deal and be unable to regain what they had acquired through this deal by any means.

Lau Fei curses a little, but smiles manically.

“Fine. Now you know the terms! So what? What do you plan to do now?”

Harper steps forward, tilting his head back in a laugh – it starts benign enough, but eventually warps, becoming more and more hysterical, until he’s practically howling, howling like a dog. Grief and anguish and all that could have been, should have been, that now never would. Every broken promise he’d ever made, weighed upon his shoulders, from the minor to the major. What could he do but laugh about it? The mirthful, joyous sound was out of control, leaving him breathless, dizzy.

He’s broken so many promises, failed to keep his word countless times. He’s fell through on so many deals and bargains.

Why not? Let’s do it again, one final time.

“Keep away from Lau Fei,” he warned the group, pulling the stolen kitchen knife from where he’d hidden it on his person. “This one’s mine.”

Erika’s hand jams itself into their jacket–for once, they actually wish they had Sonny’s gun just to have something to use. Instead, their fingers curl around the handle of their taser. She doesn’t step forward just yet, but her eyes are focused on the new wolf in front of them.

She shouldn’t have to do anything, right? Harper has made it exceedingly clear that he and Lau Fei’s toxic dance with each other has only one possible conclusion. But just because she’s in a healthier place now, it doesn’t mean she’s just about to assume the best outcome. Especially not when Lau Fei seems to have just as much control over this place as Miku Prime has shown.

So they circle towards some of their friends a little, more ready to play defense if need be than charge in.

“If anyone has anything they wanna say to convince either of them one way or the other–now’s probably the best time for it. I don’t think we’re gonna get much more time for a decision. Aside from that–Anyone got any idea on how to break that goddamn contract with the way those terms are set up?”

The tension in the room was enough to raise your hair on end. With all the surmounting lies, at times it could be difficult to tell who’s side anyone truly was on. But now was the time to clear up any misconceptions, wasn’t it? To say your piece, to find a way out of this mess. With the contract in hand, the group had the most power they’d held in a long, long time.

You could taste the winds of freedom.

[roseofcards90]

ALSO

Just the reveal that Jelena was from the Outlands was done so well??? It’s not something you really expect while going into it. The election was a distraction for Chief (and us the player) just like how she wanted it to be, to derail attention from the fact that the OAB guy was left alive compared to the rest of the cabinet. We think it’s just comedic because the guy had always been a scumbag and the butt of a joke in previous events. It’s what he deserves, right? Clearly there isn’t anything suspicious that the overall mystery had no other ties to DisCity, right???

Jelena’s name meaning “warmth/sun” is such a good contrast to her rain/gloomy aesthetic, but it’s also the fact that the Outlands is a desert??? Which is more forshadowing for Jelena’s origins. She embodies the desolation/scarcity people in the Outlands suffer from, and what happens as a result of that desolation from being left to die from the major corporations that control the world essentially. These are the desperate measures she goes to after seeing so many of her children die from this injustice, and yet she also “washes their sins away” washes away the corruption of these people (quite literally melting them with her corrosive rain), paving the way for change to happen, which parallels the election going on in the same chapters

It's the way in which Famine libram sinners are all from the Outlands and they all in their own way have adapted to this injustice and have tried to cope with it in their own ways??? Korryn and Mira resorting to bounty hunting and stealing because they don't get enough hypercubes supply from DisCity, Dove forging false letters out of bitter contempt and revenge for her parents' wrongful deaths caused by Discity's mistreatment of satellite towns, and ofc Vautour and the entirety of her backstory, seeing firsthand how DisCity doesn't bother to care about the lives of Outlanders, leaving them to die from the natural disasters or not even permitting them to cross the border to DisCity. It's like no wonder why Jelena turned out like this augh

Aisno you were so clever for that omfg

“Huh, why is there an extra stained glass window in the Famine libram??? Is it for a future sinner?”

*plays chapter 15* oh. Oh that’s why. AND THATS WHY SHE DIDNT HAVE AN ART ALREADY INCLUDED IN THE LOVE LIBRAM HOLY SHIT

[caffedrine]

This is just a very quick and dirty plot summary from chapters 21-23 of the romantic route. Lots of spoilers, I'm leaving out a lot of information, and there's no guarantee that it's accurate.

I made it so that I could follow along with the plot, keep track of the mysteries, and a few of the interesting scenes.

Spoilers for Gilbert's route

Spoilers, Spoilers, Spoilers

Emma realizes that Gilbert knew everything before they even met. He knew who she was, that she was selected as Belle, and that he only had one month to live. His reasons for doing everything he has done still a mystery to her.

Emma wakes up in Gilbert’s bed, with his arms around her. She remembers sitting by his bed while he recovered the previous night, and surmised that after he was stable, she must have fallen asleep. At some point, Gilbert must have pulled her into bed.

Emma has a choice, she can reveal that she knows Gilbert’s most deadly secret, or she can lie and pretend ignorance. Looking back over all their conversations, one thing that stands out is how much Gilbert hates lies. Whatever it is that’s going on between them won’t survive without absolute candor.

The emotion drains from Gilbert’s face, and he tells her that this was her choice. He straddles Emma, pinning her to the bed and begins strangling her. He tells her that this is a matter of national security, and Emma is no exception to his vow to kill anyone who knows he’s dying.

Emma claws at his hands and promises that she won’t tell anyone. Gilbert tells her that he long ago promised himself that he wouldn’t trust anyone, wouldn’t love anyone.

As he strangles Emma, she thinks that rather than cold and emotionless, he looks more and more in pain, as if he was the one being strangled. Emma was nominated as Belle, for her ability to read people. And despite the hands crushing her throat, she still doesn’t believe that Gilbert can kill her.

When Emma loses consciousness, Gilbert stops, burring his face against her shoulder. Everyone betrays him in the end, even Emma. Still, he can’t bring himself to kill her.

Emma has a strange dream that feels like a memory. The bookstore owner, Akatsuki, is telling her about a boy he knows. The boy is smart, sweet, and kind. He is the first one to help people and cheer them up without a thought of his own happiness. Little Emma thinks this boy sounds amazing and she wants to grow up to be just like him. After all, she also loves making people happy.

When Emma regains consciousness, Walter is shouting at Gilbert. He wants to know what the hell Gilbert was thinking, trying to kill the woman he’s in love with. Gilbert corrects him, this isn’t love, it’s hate. Walter wonders why he’s bothering to try to reason with a man as twisted as Gilbert.

Gilbert and Walter play the blame game with each other, with Walter asking why Gilbert even bothered to bring Emma to Obsidian if he intended to keep this secret from her. Gilbert just laughs.

They realize that Emma is conscious again, and she finds that she’s been moved to her room. Thankfully, there was no long-term damage, but her throat will be bruised. He has a topical ointment for it, but Gilbert decides he will apply it. He pushes Walter out of Emma’s room, promising that he’ll try not to kill her.

Gilbert begins to apply the ointment to Emma’s throat, pretending not to notice her flinch. Emma asks why he didn’t kill her back then.

Gilbert is going to give her a choice. She can spend the rest of her life trapped at his side, or he can finish the job. Which would she prefer?

If she stays with him, she will never be permitted to leave Obsidian, much less the castle. Gilbert has no intention of news of his illness spreading, much less people thinking it’s liked to his death. If the symbol of terror, the Obsidian Royal Family were to die too soon or too gently, then the corruption he has fought to eliminate will return and spread.

Emma asks if this means he’ll get the treatment Walter told her about - the one that will save his life.

Gilbert is upset that Emma knows about the treatment, and that he’s been refusing it. With a grimace, he tells her that he’ll go through with the treatment - if she agrees to kill him later.

Emma demands to know how that even makes sense. To Gilbert it makes perfect sense - he cannot be allowed to live in the new age where the weak have overthrown the nobility. 

Emma recalls Gilbert warning her that it is nearly impossible to change people’s values. She knows that, and she knows that she’s nothing special, she can’t convince Gilbert to give up his ideals. But still . . . 

Gilbert tells her that she has other things she should worry about instead of him. Now that she’s made her choice, she won’t be able to attend the signing ceremony.

Emma asks who the new proxy will be, but Gilbert shakes his head, it was her or no one. That road is now closed to them, and this will just be one more promise Obsidian has reneged on, proof that this country cannot be trusted.

Besides, her princes in Rhodolite will have their hands full soon enough with a civil war. Now that her role has ended, Gilbert has no reason to delay his plans anymore. 

A few nights ago, Gilbert gave Emma the prototype gun. But that wasn’t the only one he had made, and he has distributed the weapons to the rebel anti-Royal groups. The only thing he was holding back was the ammunition required to use them. 

The bullets are made and ready to be distributed among the groups, all waiting on Gilbert’s go ahead.

He was waiting to see if Emma could use her ideals to bridge the gap between the rebel factions and those in charge, but that chance died last night. 

Gilbert stands up to leave and put his plan into action, but Emma jumps on his back, restraining him.

She asks why he was waiting this long - from what he said he could have sent Rhodolite into a civil war at any moment. Why wait? He knows the longer he waits, the more time the princes have to thwart his plans.

Maybe Gilbert doesn’t want a bloody civil war. Even with his ideology of raising the weak and overthrowing the nobility, a lot of innocent people, men, women, and children will die. And what is even the point of doing this to Rhodolite?

Gilbert doesn’t want all those innocent people to die, but he sees no other way. Besides, at what point did he say that this civil war was only going to happen in Rhodolite?

Rhodolite is a relatively small, almost insignificant country. Gilbert’s plan encompasses the entire continent, including the five largest nations outside of Obsidian. Benitoite and Jade, but also Tanzanite, the Country of Divination and Illusions, Acroite, the Country of Snow and Law, and Ruby, the Country of Night Blossoms and Turbulent Times.

Gilbert turns around and very gently embraces Emma. She knows that he’s the Calamity that Will Destroy the World. And he will purify all the rot from the world.

Can Emma still look at him and want him to live?

Emma begs Gilbert to let her attend the signing ceremony - she still might be able to stop this without bloodshed. She’s his and now the world’s last hope. 

If he can’t trust her not to spill his secret, he can have her watched. If whoever is monitoring her thinks she’ll betray his secret, they can kill her. Gilbert tells her that’s not an option, she’s his prey and only he can kill her.

In that case, he can come instead and monitor her. Gilbert refuses this option as well, if he dies in a foreign country, it will be impossible to cover it up and have his plan continue. 

Of course, Emma has a third option. If she kills Gilbert, she will prevent the civil war and could go where she pleased without needing to be monitored.

Emma wonders what she can do, how she can make a world where everyone, including Gilbert, can smile.

Over the next few days, Emma continues to beg Gilbert to let her go to the signing ceremony. When he refuses, she asks to go to the city. If she can at least get word to Lucien, he could inform Chevalier. But Gilbert refuses that as well.

Gilbert coughs, something she never heard him do in Rhodolite and panics. Gilbert teases her about crying every time he coughs these days. 

Emma asks him to go back to his room, but Gilbert refuses. He spent most of his childhood being so sick he was bedridden; he doesn’t intend to die that way either. Besides, he gets way warmer by cuddling with Emma than he does sitting in bed under blankets.

The scent of medicine lingers around Gilbert, the same scent from the infirmary in both the Castle of Rhodolite and the Castle of Obsidian. It’s also the smell that lingered in that secret Rhodolite flat Gilbert had used as a child. 

Gilbert warns Emma not to grow attached to him, all he’ll do is hurt her in one way or another. Emma asks if he’s reconsidered Walter’s treatment, and Gilbert reminds her of their deal. If she promises to kill him, he’ll accept the treatment. Rather than cry, Emma buries her face against Gilbert’s shoulder and feels him gently stroke her hair.

Roderich interrupts them; a group of three foreigners are waiting in the receiving room. Miraculously they passed the stringent border inspections, miraculously they were not accosted during their journey to the capital, and miraculously they are now in the middle of the castle. Roderich looks pointedly at Emma, as if he’s trying to tell her something.

Well, Gilbert is in a good mood right now, so he’ll meet with them. He tells Emma to come with him, after all, they’re her guests.

When she enters the room, the three visitors rush towards her but are pushed back by Gilbert who holds Emma close to him. He reminds them that Emma is his hostage, and if they have anything to say, it will go through him.

Rio and Akatsuki are not amused and nearly lunge at Gilbert. It’s Yves who has to play the voice of reason, reminding them that they’re not here to pick a fight with Gilbert in the middle of his own Castle.

Emma should be happy that they came here for her, but with everything that has happened, she cannot bring herself to smile. Thankfully, with Gilbert commanding their attention, they didn’t notice. 

Gilbert laughs, it appears all three of them want him dead. How about Emma, shall he go ahead and die? Emma snaps at him to stop joking about it.

She immediately regrets it, Gilbert is still smiling, but Rio, Akatsuki, and Yves look confused. She cannot drop even unintentional hints about Gilbert’s illness lest everything she’s trying fall apart. Emma diverts attention by asking how they came here.

Akatsuki still has his border crossing permit.  Yves and Rio hid in his cart of goods during the passing and inspections. 

Akatsuki did notice that the border patrol was unusually lax during their inspection. He asks if Gilbert arranged it that way.

Gilbert denies this, what reason would he have to welcome outsiders into his country. On that note, he knows only Akatsuki has the permit to cross the border, with the addition of the other two ‘guests’ there are now three illegal immigrants in his city.

He asks why they have risked so much to come.

Akatsuki tells Gilbert to return Emma to them. Gilbert refuses, she’s still his goodwill hostage. Rio complains that Gilbert is obviously not treating her well, just look how pale she has gotten. Emma denies this, but Yves points out that she has obviously been crying recently. Has she been crying ever since she was handed over?

Emma can feel Gilbert’s gaze bore into her, waiting for her to break.

Emma tells them that they’re mistaken, she has just been reading a really moving book. It was really, really sad.

Akatsuki points out the lie, Obsidian is famous for having terrible taste in literature, there would be nothing here up to her standards, much less worth crying about. 

Gilbert cuts in, Emma is obviously lying, but shouldn’t they respect her reasons? With his arms still wrapped around her, he very deliberately leans forward and kisses the corner of her lips. He reminds them that she’s a hostage, she has plenty of reasons to cry. And he might have given her a few more.

This time, Gilbert sweetly kisses the side of her eye.

Rio and Akatsuki agree that Gilbert needs to die right now. Yves yells at them to stop or it will just be worse. Emma insists that Gilbert is lying, he has been treating her like an honored guest. Gilbert tells her that he wouldn’t spend every night together with her if she was just his honored guest. Yves, Rio and Akatsuki look at her in horror.

They continue the meeting, with Yves bringing up the reason they’re here. They have received no communication about the Emperor of Obsidian’s intentions to come to Rhodolite and attend the signing ceremony, so they assume Obsidian is backing out. In that case, they would like Gilbert to return his hostage.

Gilbert insists that the emperor has already sent a letter to Rhodolite with the arrangements and declaration of intentions. After all, he brought Emma here as his hostage in exchange for the non-aggression treaty. Apparently the three of them just missed the letter, he apologizes for them wasting their time - they’re not going to be able to take Emma away with them.

Gilbert decides the meeting is ended, and he stands up, grabbing Emma’s hand and pulling her out with him. He gives Roderich orders to remove their guests from the castle, and to put them up in the nicest lodging available- in the city. 

He brings Emma to his room, and she asks why he lied during the meeting. He doesn’t intend to have anyone attend the signing ceremony. 

Gilbert’s logic is that it’s not a lie until he actually misses the signing ceremony. But he has something else to talk about, a new gift to give her. He pulls out a bundle of black cloth and gives it to Emma.

It’s a completely black dress, with the lace at the throat to the chest done out in a rose pattern. It started for Emma back when Gilbert was planning on having her sign as proxy, though now it is useless to him. Still, rather than waste it, he thought she should have it. He urges her to try it on. 

Emma heads to the restroom attached to Gilbert’s room but stops when she realizes that he’s following her. He insists that he wants to help her put it on, but Emma refuses. She has gone most of her life perfectly capable of putting on her own clothes, and she’s not planning on changing that today. 

After some time in the restroom alone, Emma finally pokes her head out to find Gilbert casually leaning against the wall next to her. She needs help, the dress was made with buttons on the back she can’t reach. Laughing, Gilbert helps, noting that black really doesn’t suit her.

Emma asks why this dress fits so well, and Gilbert tells her it’s his secret. Emma decides there are some secrets she’ll just be happier if she doesn’t know.

Gilbert decides that Emma looks far too lovely to be kept alone in his stuffy room. Emma asks if he wants to go for a walk together, but Gilbert doesn’t like the idea that a castle full of people, some of which are even men, could see her like this. 

But there is a secret passage they could take, that only Gilbert as the last member of Obsidian’s Royal Family knows about.

He takes Emma through a maze of passages and secret doors before they arrive at the main ballroom of the Castle of Obsidian. The floor is carved with the emblem for the Country of Obsidian, and for a moment it overlaps in Emma’s mind with the Rhodolite ballroom. It has floor to ceiling windows, depicting a beautiful view of steep mountains and is illuminated by the setting sun.

Emma is impressed by how beautiful it is - this is the first place in the Castle of Obsidian that doesn’t look like a modified military fortress. She can imagine noble parties being held here.

Emma isn’t wrong. Gilbert tells her that back when the Mad Emperor reigned, there were endless lavish gatherings For aristocrats held here. Even now, Gilbert still likes the view.

The sound of Gilbert’s cane tapping against the floor reminds Emma of the welcome gala where she and Gilbert danced together for the first time. She asks if he hasn’t had many opportunities to dance, even though she thought he was quite skilled.

Gilbert explains that his illness makes physical exertion, dancing included, shortens his remaining time. He used to only dance under very special circumstances. Of course, dancing is now impossible.

Emma promises to practice dancing and improve and asks Gilbert to dance with her in the future. 

Gilbert laughs, she is the only person whom, after everything he has done to her, would want to dance with him. He agrees to consider it, but Emma understands that he’s at the point where he is not making any promises.

Gilbert reminisces about the ballroom; it was very lively back when the Mad Emperor was still alive. He asks if Emma noticed how close the ballroom is to the city below, sometimes people would sneak out the secret passage that led directly from the ballroom to the town for an illicit outing. Of course, these days the secret passage is a weak security checkpoint that could let criminals come and go as they please, but Gilbert could never bring himself to destroy it out if sheer nostalgia.

A miraculous visit, a beautiful dress, a whimsical walk, and the trip down Gilbert’s memory lane all snap into place for Emma, but she still doesn’t understand what Gilbert’s intentions are. 

Perhaps this is what it means to be the Trampling Beast. Emma has no doubt that Gilbert was serious when he wanted to imprison her in his castle and keep her chained to his side. But even then, he’s also giving her this final chance. Maybe this is the only way he can bring himself to let her go.

Gilbert never took back the documents naming her as the Emperor of Obsidian’s proxy. This is her final chance to attend the signing ceremony and bridge the gap between the anti-Royal faction and the princes of Rhodolite.

Emma asks if Gilbert believes in her. Gilbert plays dumb, and Emma decides not to push it. This might be, for Gilbert, as far as he can go. 

If Emma were to take this opportunity and leave, will Gilbert be here when she returns? Will he live long enough to hear whether she succeeds or fails?

Gilbert asks why Emma is crying. Emma tells him that it’s his fault. She remembers Gilbert, long ago, warning her to stop killing her heart before becoming a fallen beast like him.

Emma deliberately looks at Gilbert and tells him that she is not alright. She asks if she promises to kill Gilbert, would he accept the treatment. Gilbert tells her not to lie, she hasn’t gotten to the point she can hold up her end and kill him. 

Emma assures him that she absolutely can and will kill him, but Gilbert laughs and tells her to listen to herself. Didn’t anyone warn her to not get close to villains?

Emma is conflicted, should she listen to Gilbert and respect his will? Or should she trample over him and force her will on him?

Emma bites her lip hard enough to break through the skin. Gilbert’s cold hands cradle her face as he asks if she really loves him that much. His grip on her is hard enough that she cannot do anything other than look into his eye.

Emma thinks back to everything she has experienced since meeting Gilbert. So many bad things had happened to her afterward, she was harassed and had to deal with the heartbreak of ostracization. She had even been nearly exiled by her own country, just because Gilbert called her a friend.

Once Gilbert had warned her that everything he loved betrayed him, so instead he controlled it and trampled it so that nothing he loved could hurt him. And here she was, quite literally in the palm of his hand. Admitting love to Gilbert was the same as drinking poison.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were nice memories, and Gilbert hadn’t really done anything bad to her (except for attempted murder). His kindness had been malicious, but it had been kind. She couldn’t help but respond to that kindness, that part of him that held her as special. As Gilbert’s finger traces her lips, Emma feels emotions pouring into her heart like ink, dying it black.

Emma wishes that they could go back to the way they were, and Gilbert tells her that it’s already too late. It’s written on her face and is impossible for her to hide. She loves him and wants him to live.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Gilbert nods, Emma has made a very terrible decision, really. Falling in love with anyone, villain status aside, is the worst someone could do, akin to self-harm. That’s why he decided not to fall in love with anyone, no one can betray that love and it doesn’t even hurt when you kill them. After he made that decision, his painful life became so much easier. Emma should give it a try too.

Because of his hold on her face, Emma can’t look away from Gilbert’s eye. She has no choice but to see it waver with sorrow.

Emma tells Gilbert that it’s a pointless struggle, and Gilbert is proof of that. Why is she alive if not because Gilbert loves her too much to kill her? As much as she wants Gilbert to live, he wants her to live too, even though she is now a threat to his nation.

Emma realizes that she can see Gilbert’s heart, and he must be able to see hers as well. They have opposite ideologies, with a fathomless chasm between them. This should be impossible for both of them.

Emma tells Gilbert that she does love him, and that means she can kill him. After all, this is the only way that can guarantee that he will stay alive. She’s accepted that she must be able to kill him in order to save him, so she will.

Even if he doesn’t believe her, Emma asks if Gilbert is okay with dying now? She intends to stop his plan; no matter how many bullets and weapons he sends out, they will be worthless if no one picks them up. She warns him not to discount her because he thinks of her as a baby bunny, she will stop his plan and triumph over him.

A part of Emma wonders how she can even register as a threat to the Marshal of Eternal Victory, and it’s right, as she is right now she is not. She needs to get back to Rhodolite and make a real difference. Even if this choice means that she will never see Gilbert again.

Gilbert is standing as close to her right now as when they first met, but unlike then his red eye is wavering. Emma kisses him, at first lightly, but then Gilbert’s hand is against the back of her head, as if blocking her escape route. They kiss again and again, and Emma thinks that for the first time, she can feel a humanlike warmth from Gilbert.

Suddenly, Gilbert’s teeth sink into her lip. Emma jerks back, though she doesn’t think he broke her skin. She demands to know why he just bit her, but Gilbert reminds her, he wants to leave a mark on those that he likes.  Emma grumbles that most lovers cherish those they love, and Gilbert agrees. And there are dozens of men who will treat Emma softly and gently. But she won’t be able to forget him, and the pain he brings. Emma complains that he has a cowardly way of reasoning, but Gilbert just reminds her that he’s the Arch-Villain.

Gilbert’s hand slides down Emma’s thigh, checking for the gun. He complains about her promise to kill him when she doesn’t even wear the gun. He urges Emma to answer him, and she asks if she wears the gun on her, would he consider living. There’s a long silence between them, and Gilbert reminds her that he doesn’t lie.

Even now, Gilbert doesn’t make any promises about surviving. Emma knows that this is a good thing for Rhodolite and the other countries, but she can’t hold back her sobs.

Gilbert wishes her luck.

~~~

In Rhodolite, Luke enters the chapel deep in the forest near the royal castle. He asks why Chevalier summoned him here, when the office was so much closer and nicer. Chevalier responds that he didn’t want to get blood on the documents. Without changing his expression, Chevalier unsheathes his sword and points it at Luke.

Luke notes that it felt like someone was sniffing around him and asks when Chevalier realized he was connected to Gilbert. Chevalier praises Luke for his ability to deceive everyone at court, it really was a masterful disguise.

When Chevalier looked into Luke’s background (a second time) he found a few suspicious points. First of all, Luke was issued a death certificate 10 years ago during the Day of the Blood-Stained Roses. That meant that it was impossible for their side to confirm that Luke was alive. Then he reappeared about a year later and got a job with the guard.

Luke had been a child during the year he was missing, he would have been unable to fend for himself in the wild, nor would he have been undiscovered by Rhodolite forces.

But it wasn’t only Rhodolite who was there that day. Obsidian forces could have taken Luke in, protected him for a year before he returned to Rhodolite.

Luke asks how that would connect him to Gilbert, who hadn’t been part of the military invasion.

During the Day of the Blood-Stained Roses, Obsidian had a policy to kill non-combatants, including women and children. The Obsidian soldiers should have killed him, under orders of the Emperor. There would have been only one person in Obsidian who could order the soldiers to keep him alive instead.

Well, Chevalier got him. It’s all correct, when Luke had lost his home, his family, and nearly his life, Gilbert had stepped in and saved him.

Normally, Chevalier wouldn’t care if Luke was or wasn’t connected to Gilbert. The problem is what Luke has been up to since returning from Obsidian.

Ever since the tragedy ten years ago, people have been vocal in their distrust of the royal family. At first they were disjointed groups, no one could truly agree on an issue. But, starting a few years ago, someone began organizing them. What had been a few small groups scattered across the nation were now bundled into a pillar that could burn Rhodolite down to the ground.

This is how Gilbert destroys nations, he unites people and controls them with hatred by dying their hearts black, and giving them the means to destroy their country. And, knowing that, Chevalier was able to look into Luke even further, and realize that he was the leader of the anti-Royal faction.

There is a long silence between the two of them. Luke asks if Chevalier thinks that by killing him, he will solve the current crisis. Chevalier doesn’t, though it would be so much easier if it was true. Besides, it’s too late to stop the events Gilbert has put into motion.

Luke asks why Chevalier still has his sword pointed at him. Chevalier replies that he will kill anyone who harms the nation, and from his estimation, if Luke continues to lead the anti-Royal faction there will be greater destruction.

However, if they were to formally convene a court to put Luke on trial, it would be a scandal that would hurt the Royal Family of Rhodolite. Instead, Chevalier has decided to dispose of Luke secretly.

Luke unsheathes his own sword, holding it between him and Chevalier. It seems no matter who it is, anyone who has status has decided that they have the right to do anything they please to those below them. This is the exact sort of thing Gilbert would say, and Luke wonders if Chevalier is the perfect symbol of authoritarianism in this world.

Well, unfortunately for Chevalier, Luke has no intention of dying before he has achieved his vengeance. Chevalier asks how long Luke can last in a fight against him. They point their swords at one another, the chapel become a battleground full of bloodlust and murderous intent.

Clavis enters the chapel, complaining loudly that Chevalier keeps on dragging him to weird places.

Clavis asks what the hell is going on. He rushes between Chevalier and Luke, reminding them that sibling fights are done with fists, not swords. Both Chevalier and Luke snap at him to get out of the way.

Clavis tells them both to calm down. He assures Luke that he knows Chevalier well, so Luke doesn’t need to say anything for him to know that this is all Chevalier’s fault. Clavis looks at Chevalier, into his eyes and tells Luke to run away, Chevalier is seriously planning on killing him. When Luke hesitates, Clavis reassures him that everyone will blame Chevalier for this.

After Luke leaves, Chevalier sheathes his sword, and the murderous aura fades. Clavis asks if he was really going to do it, but Chevalier says that this demonstration served its purpose. He sits on a pew listlessly, seeming carefree except for a bitter smile. Clavis tells him that if he wanted to kick Luke of out the court to prevent information leaks, there were other, and better ways.

Chevalier asks if Clavis is ready with his part, and Clavis complains about being ignored.

There is a unit prepared to participate in the operation, led by Cyran. Their preliminary reconnaissance reports line up with Chevalier’s predictions, they should be able to suppress the attack at the signing ceremony. The problem is that the group has been supplied with Obsidian weapons, even if Chevalier’s operation succeeds, there will be lots of casualties.

Chevalier has accepted the loss, dialogue is no longer an option, leading violence as the last resort. Clavis complains that Chevalier really is a beast who has abandoned his own heart.

Chevalier cuts in, asking for a report.

A guard with long hair and a uniform designating him as one of the elites approaches them. Clavis recognizes Lucien, and recalls that he was sent to Obsidian after Emma. Lucien reports that he just arrived.

Chevalier surmises that if Lucien is here, then Emma is returning from Obsidian far earlier than they expected. Lucien tells him that he’s right, she’s returning with the other three.

Claivs is impressed, he didn’t think that they would really be able to bring Emma back with them. Lucien hesitates, and Chevalier has to prompt him to continue. Lucien admits that a very unexpected situation has occurred.

Clavis tells him that nothing can surprise him more than them shipping Emma off to Obsidian in the first place.

Oh, this might.  

Lucien explains that Emma is returning as the Empress of Obsidian.

Clavis and Chevalier stare at Lucien in shock. After a long, long time, they demand Lucien repeat himself.

~~

Back in Obsidian, Gilbert has finished giving Roderich his orders. Roderich protests, but Gilbert silences him. He tells Roderich that his body is at it’s limit, so now it’s Roderich’s turn. He assures Roderich that he will be fine, he believes in him. Besides, he promised Emma that he would see her after the signing ceremony, and he doesn’t want to break his promise with her.

Roderich is pretty sure this would count as breaking the promise, but Gilbert tells him that he’s not interested in repeating himself.

Smiling, Gilbert pushes back Roderich’s hood, revealing glossy black hair and red eyes.

Gilbert wishes him luck.

[aerynwrites]

Afterlife

Silco x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’ve had this idea for months now and had a few spare moments today to bust out a little drabble. I hope you all enjoy and as usual, comments/reblogs are very very appreciated! I love to read what you guys think 🥰

Word Count: 857

Warnings: angst | major character death | canon typical violence | mentions of the afterlife | hurt/comfort | fluff | happy ending.

*Sorry for any errors I edited this myself so may have missed some things*

Silco never thought much about the afterlife. Never pondered much if there was one or if it was all just empty black space when one meets their end.

Even if there is one, he’s certain he would not be permitted through the golden gates.

Not after everything he’s done.

Yet…as he sits here - blood dripping from his lips, soaking his clothes and his daughter crying at his feet…

He silently hopes there is a life after death.

He knows he’s going to die. He can feel the life seeping out of him like liquid from a spilled glass.

His skin is cold. It hurts to take in a breath and speak what he knows will be his final words. Trying in vain to comfort the last living person that he cares for.

He hopes there’s an afterlife, not only so he can see Jinx again someday…but maybe - if there is in fact a life after death - he will see you soon.

You.

The love of his life.

Taken from him just a few short years ago when a rogue chembaron thought he could use you as leverage against him.

Once again his work had ruined a beautiful thing.

The pain in death isn’t what he thought it would be.

Maybe it's the adrenaline.

Or maybe it’s the dying urge to comfort his daughter in his last moments.

The girl you both raised together. The girl who’s tears soak through his trousers as she begs for forgiveness that’s already been given.

“I never would have given you to them. Not for anything.” He can feel it now. The end finally closing in around him.

“Don’t cry…” he mumbles, using the last of his breath to reassure her. “You’re perfect.”

The end is what hurts worse. And no, not the physical pain from the bullets that tore through him.

But the pain of leaving his child alone, not knowing what will happen.

That fear and pain is the last thing he feels as the last of his life leaves him and everything is black.

For a moment there’s nothing. It’s as if he blinked out of existence for an undetermined amount of time until a soft pinprick of light permeates the inky blackness.

His name - airy and far away - echoes around the empty space.

Is he alive? It’s the only thing he can think as the light gets brighter, and the voice louder.

Pure shock washes through him as the voice calls out to him again, the light now almost blinding and he finds himself pushing away the hope that swells in his chest.

Until finally his entire world explodes in a brilliant white light and there’s no doubt whose calling out to him.

A hand - your hand - reaches out from the wall of light that still blinds him.

Immediately he slides his hand into your own, choking on so many built up emotions at the familiar softness of your palm against his.

“Wh-what’s happening?” He asks, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light until you appear fully in front of him.

You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out for you.

Your cheek is soft beneath his fingers, your smile wide as you step closer to him, eyes sparkling.

“I’ve been waiting,” You say simply, a sad smile overtaking your happy one. “But I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

His fingers thread through your hair before trailing down your neck to rest against your shoulder.

“This isn’t real.” He murmurs, eyes trailing over your form. “This is a terrible dream before I die, isn’t it? Some sick joke being played on me for all the evil I’ve done.”

He clutches you tightly, pulling you into his chest with arms wound snugly around you. Afraid that if he lets go he won’t ever see you again.

You laugh against him, your lips brushing his neck as you speak.

“It’s not a trick,” you assure him, pulling away just enough you can look into his eyes. “Gods, I missed you so much, Sil.”

Silco has only cried once. And that was the day you left him.

And now that you’re here before him again, he feels the unfamiliar sting of tears burning at his eyes.

“I never…I never thought I’d see you again.” He says honestly, still in awe that you’re here before him.

You smile.

“Well you’re here. And now we have eternity together.”

“Eternity?”

You nod, before you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He turns to kiss you properly, but stops short when his mind calls back to the person he left behind.

“And Jinx?”

Another sad smile. “We’ll wait for her. Just like I waited for you.”

Silco can’t wait any longer. You’ve both waited long enough.

His lips meet yours in passionate kiss, drinking each other in after so many years apart.

Silco didn’t believe it before…but he’s never been more happy to be wrong.

He has you back - and one day Jinx will be here too.

Then, you’ll be a family again.

Just like it’s meant to be.

[hyacinthian-chateau]

Wicked.

--You meet the glare of the man you once loved as he cradles the form of a delicate-looking female. You can't help but feel slighted as she gives you a self-satisfied smile in the arms of your former fiance. Biting back your tears and fury, you stare the two individuals down before straightening your back and donning the role of being the villainess.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli (ft. F!Reader)

Notice: SFW.

╰ ☆ ╮

Diluc

He's expected much more from you seeing as you had both been betrothed to each other since childhood. Both your parents came from ducal nobility and it only made sense for them to unite both families in the hopes of strengthening ties. You grew up looking forward to visiting him at his family's estate and vice versa until your mother had pointed out that it was rather undignified for a lady to show such childish excitement.

“As the eldest daughter of a Duke, you have to conduct yourself in a dignified manner. Remember, you aren’t some common child but a member of the nobility.”

From there on, you had handled yourself impeccably whenever you met Diluc and that meant curtsying and keeping yourself composed at all times—even if he told you that you weren’t the prettiest girl he’s seen. Children say the most darn things and you chalked it to him being a bit more on the shyer side. Between the social gatherings, etiquette lessons and dance classes, you still find time to meet your intended fiancé for tea every two weeks, much to the insistence of your parents, bonding over your shared love for animals specifically birds of prey.

Although, he’s grown from a lively child; You can tell he’s become quite distant as he entered adolescence. It was only after the sudden death of his mother that he became much more closed off. You could still remember the month when the bedridden duchess had summoned you and asked that you take care of her son in her place. From there on the biweekly meetings dwindled as Diluc became much more engrossed with his duties related to inheriting the dukedom from his father and you can’t help but miss the caring and impressionable boy he used to be.

Seasons pass and soon enough it was time for the annual debutante ball to be held in the capital once more. The parties had always been lavish and the red-haired man had been there to escort you, although he seemed more closed off and stoic as the years passed--If anything he still tried to be cordial. You try to maintain a healthy relationship, sending him letters just to check on him and visiting him when permitted.

You weren’t so attached to the crimson-haired man and instead learned to entertain yourself with your friends until it was time for the much-anticipated dance which only consisted of the annual debutantes and their male counterparts. You cannot help but search the room for Diluc until you see him slowly making his way over to you begrudgingly. You ignore his expression and ready yourself--alas, you cannot ignore the far-off look in his eyes as he remained indifferent even as you tried to make small talk while he spun you on the gleaming marble floors.

You thank him for the dance as a courtesy but he merely passes you by and disappears into the sea of attendees. Your fiancé had always disliked socializing and crowded places so you had chalked it up to him finding a quiet place and resting for a bit. No matter, you had always learned to keep yourself amused considering you had grown without any siblings. The night had been enjoyable, seeing as you had tried a handful of delicacies as well as made a few acquaintances with others your age. You find yourself standing by the wall with a small plate of cake in hand when you catch sight of something you wish you hadn't.

“Isn’t that the young Master Diluc?” You hear someone whisper from your left.

“Last time I recall, His fiancé wasn’t blonde?” Another one whispered behind their fan. “But who that dancing with him?”

There was your betrothed, escorting another girl towards the dance floor--and they dance, beautifully. For others who knew of your engagement, it sent tongues wagging as they gossiped about the unknown girl dancing with the Ragnvindr's next head. You feel a slight tinge of jealousy creeping its hold around your heart after seeing the rather affectionate gaze he held. It was nearing the early hours of the morning when you had decided to leave, making your way into the carriage and ignoring the pitying looks of other partygoers as there was no one to see you off or at least escort you.

In the next few weeks, you receive a letter of apology from Diluc and a bouquet of Windblumes--he says that he had been too late in escorting you home during the ball and wished to accompany you for luncheon at another noble's home. You wrote a reply to accept the offer at the insistence of your mother although you had been reluctant to do so.

The maids flustered over your appearance and you had thought that even the most beautiful dress would not divert your fiancée's attention, seeing as it had been elsewhere--If not with his duties at his father's business, he had been spending time roaming the streets of Mondstadt dressed in commoner's clothing. You had cared less what he had been doing but your informant had been keen enough to report that he had been visiting a certain female commoner, the very same one who had been present at the debutante ball.

The moment you arrive at the luncheon, you're met with the red-haired man who offers his hand to you as you step out of the carriage. You fake the smile on your face and strengthen your resolve. You give your fiancé a pleasant greeting only to be answered with curt 'hello' before he leads you into the garden where the gathering was held.

You sat with him, trying to make conversation and inquiring about his health but again his responses are brief and short that you ultimately give up on chatting with him. Within an hour, he excuses himself even when you gave him a pointed look before leaving you alone once more. You try to hide your irritation behind a cup of tea before deciding to find him and give him a piece of your mind. How dare he string you around like an accessory? You had been nothing else but amiable to him and yet he treated you like any other noble.

You find yourself stalking down the hallway after seeing familiar red hair rounding the corner of a hallway. You open your mouth to call out to him but you were only imminently surprised when you catch him with that same girl. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the coincidence before deciding to listen in on the conversation.

“I thought of nothing else but you since the first time we met.” Your stomach dropped when you hear Diluc, the same frigid and detached man, confessing his love for this woman.

“But, My Lord—“

“Diluc.” There was a softness in his tone, you need not see his expression to hear it. “I told you to call me that when we are alone.”

“Diluc, I love you.” You bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. “But you are promised to another woman. I cannot be that woman.”

“That is true.” You hear a set of steps against the floor and you strain your ears as your fiancé continues. “But I cannot deny that you are the only one that I want.”

If you had been exasperated earlier, you were now seething in pure unadulterated anger. How dare he string you around like an accessory? You wanted no part in becoming the subject of Mondstadt's gossip mill.

You leave moments before the conversation is done, intent on finding the host to excuse yourself--citing that you weren't feeling well enough to see to the end of the gathering. You don’t even glance at the other attendants who seemed confused at your sudden departure before entering your carriage alone once more. It seemed that your fiancee merely invited you as a ruse to meet with another woman and it infuriated you to no ends. If he wished to be rid of you, who were you to deny his wish!

From there on, it took months of planning, compiling and gathering information on your fiancé’s entanglement and before you knew it, the date to announce your marriage ceremony was looming dangerously close. The red-head still kept in contact with you but you asked that he keep his visits short and his letters even briefer, something he didn't mind. You had half a mind to ignore all the notes he had sent, seeing as he held no affection for you. You weren’t blind! It was all a pretense.

The appointed day had arrived and you walk inside the Duke's home, declining any need of an escort as you prepared to enter the ballroom. You kept your face blank whilst entering, only pretending to scrunch your face at the two figures standing on the other side of the room. The pounding in your chest was not from anxiety but elation. You tried your hardest not to smile at the thought of his reputation being stained by the end of the day.

You listened as your previous fiancée announced your broken engagement as he held the hand of the woman who would be replacing you. A pretty little, innocent thing with large doe eyes and delicate features--someone who would not survive high society. All eyes had been trained on you for your response but you merely give an uncharacteristically sweet smile and curtsey.

"Very well then." Dignity and elegance had been ingrained into your very bones but alas, you had a hard time fighting the smirk that appeared on your face. "But I would also like to air out my grievances. If I may?"

The stage had been set for you and you begin to speak. You talk of his deception and the emotional distress he has put you through. You had been nothing but a companion to the said man who only saw you a tool and nothing more. Wiping at the fake tears at the corner of your eyes, you can see the pitying looks people were giving you before moving on.

"Is that not the previous Countess Magnilda's prized Peridot necklace?" You raise a hand towards, the woman who couldn't help but hide behind the red-haired man, before pointing out the jewel that hung around her neck. "It had been stolen about three years ago by the infamous Darknight Hero."

That statement had started a commotion and the relatives of the previously mentioned deceased countess stared intently at the couple. They began to scrutinize the young woman who had the look of utter horror on her face. Diluc glared at you and you merely brushed it off and continued.

“It seems that my former fiancé had not only deceived myself but others as well.” You carry on with your disquisition,

Drawing attention to the very same man who had plundered a multitude of aristocratic dwellings to provide for those less fortunate under the infamous name of the Darknight Hero.

"Where is your proof!?" The heir to the Ragnvindr dukedom thundered as he glared at you--if looks could kill, you would have been found six feet under already.

Ah, the question you had been waiting for has finally appeared. Your motion to an associate of yours who merely hands you a stack of documents. Flipping through the pages you began listing the items that belonged to various aristocrats before procuring receipts that had been written by none other than the man before you.

You merely smile at the chaos erupting around you as people began to talk loudly, multiple voices filling the hall as many of them point accusing fingers at the two individuals across you. The air buzzed with electricity and you met rage-filled eyes with your satisfied ones. Everything had gone according to plan.

It took longer than you had anticipated for the news of Diluc’s dealings as the infamous Darknight Hero and his inconstancy towards you to die down. It had been weeks since the dramatic reveal at the party and you had received confirmation that your engagement would be annulled. Although your darling parents had offered for you to go on vacation in Liyue, you opted to stay within the vicinity of your home—wishing to bask in your accomplishment.

You had been situated in the privacy of the balcony, admiring the estate’s lush garden when the doors to your bedroom suite slams open. You catch a flurry of crimson hair making its way towards you and yet you don’t make a move to defend yourself. You merely lift the handle of your teacup daintily, not even flinching at the hands that slam down against the table causing the porcelain to rattle loudly.

"What did you tell my father?" The deadly tone in Diluc's voice would have made grown men shake in their boots but you remain unperturbed, settling your cup down on its saucer.

"Well, I felt it was important to inform him in detail of your…clandestine dealings." You glance at him before taking a small item from the tower of pastries.

"You must feel relieved. No longer the next head to the Ragnvindr Dukedom. You can focus on your beloved woman instead.”

"You--" You can see his hands shake and the sound of leather tightening. "You are a wretched person."

"You think so?" You merely carry on with your leisurely tea time, glancing behind him as a few of your estate's guards began appearing in your bedroom doorway. "Ah, But I am merciful enough to grant you your heart's desire."

"And that is?"

You lift a hand to signal the guards to take the discourteous man from your space. If this fool thought he could storm into a noble woman's private quarters, he should have thought twice. You had been pliant long enough and you would return all the damage he's caused to your family's reputation.

"Oh? But isn't this what you always wanted." You meet his glare with a sneering smile. "To be one with the common folk?"

.

Kaeya

Usually, the children of nobles were betrothed at a young age but your parents could never find a suitable partner for you. It wasn't that you were unattractive or a troublesome child per se but it was rather the cold expression you always sported on your face that was enough to intimidate others. In the past, you were always disappointed seeing other people heading the opposite direction when you entered a room but as grew older, you began to care less.

At some point, you eventually overlooked the idea of marrying and threw yourself into your studies--especially enjoying the field of law and learning about legislations originating from your homeland and distant foreign lands. Unfortunately, a noble lady could not live the life of a misanthrope and your parents announced that they had found a respectable man as your future spouse. Thus, an engagement between you and the second adopted son of the Ragnvindr dukedom—Kaeya Alberich—had been settled. Furthermore, you had been invited to the duke's estate to meet your fiancée in the following week.

The days pass and the day of the meeting comes, the moment you took a step out of your carriage, you are immediately greeted by the head butler and led towards the garden. Amidst the blooming rows of Cecilias, was a handsome, tanned man, holding what seems to be a wine glass. Wasn't it too early to be drinking? It was only eleven, not even lunchtime yet.

The navy-haired man notices both you and the butler as he was about to take a sip of the red liquid. He merely flashes you an alluring smile before approaching you and giving a slight bow, introducing himself as Kaeya Alberich, your fiancé. You merely nod respectfully, accepting his arm before leading you towards a table set for two. You sit down after he pulls the chair back and you can't help but admire the elegant spread of various canapes, small cakes and delicate ceramic tableware.

It only takes you half an hour for you to decide that you barely had anything in common with the man sitting across you. Starting a conversation was rather difficult and it took quite an effort on both your parts and he--thankfully--suggested that he give you a tour of the estate to which you accept. He talks as you listen, nodding occasionally and following along as he leads you through the vast corridors. It was past noon when you depart the duke's estate, citing a prior appointment you had to attend to.

You are pleasantly surprised that he accompanies you to the front yard, taking your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles causing a bright flush to appear on your cheeks. He merely chuckles as he closes the carriage door, his bright eye twinkling in delight while watching your vehicle move away.

Months pass and your fiancé accompanied you multiple times to a handful of social gatherings and parties. He still retained his flirtatious temperament and you can't help but be charmed when he showers you with affection. He never fails to send you a bouquet of Cala Lilies and a box of confections, or a package of scented stationery. Soon enough, your indifferent mask began to fall apart and you find yourself enjoying his company and sharing your love for Jurisprudence while he listens intently.

In the past few weeks, the captain of the cavalry knights became busy, having to travel and take part in various military exercises with the neighbouring countries. You send letters and small things you thought would make his time away from home bearable—at this point, it seems that you had truly become infatuated with the man as you always had him and his best interests in mind. How could he not when he writes your words so sweet and comparing you to the moon on a midsummer evening?

It was during the Windblume festival that you were both expected to attend the annual ball that you decide to gift him the sapphire brooch you had bought a few months back. It was an icy blue sapphire larger than your fingernail, cut in an elegant octagonal shape and framed exquisitely by silver lattice vines. It oddly reminded you of Kaeya and you couldn't help but cover your cheeks with a fan when you catch yourself thinking about him.

The night of the ball, you found yourself dressed in a simple but elaborate black dress—an odd choice but it bought out the colour of your eyes. The navy-haired man escorted you into the hall but it seemed that he was slightly distracted but you chalked it up to him being exhausted from his duties. He converses with you but his eye scanned the vast room every few minutes as if searching for someone in the sea of people.

Dismissing the pointed stares that followed your figures, your fiancé leads you to take part in the first set of dances. You seem to notice the way his body stiffened when he turned in a certain direction when he spun you around. Although those bow-shaped lips move into his trademark grin, his periwinkle eye remained detached. Was it your imagination? You can't help but excuse yourself, explaining that you weren't used to dancing in such lofty shoes and needed to rest for a bit to allow Kaeya to mingle with others. A close friend of yours, Miss Greta, accompanied you in one of the settees located at a more secluded area of the hall. You try to make small talk but it seemed that she needed to tell you something--something that seemed to be upsetting her.

"Is everything alright?" She inquires while handing you a flute of chilled juice. "You look a bit pale."

"Ah, I-it's just the nerves." You respond softly before taking a sip of the liquid.

You ignore the look she sends you, keeping your gaze on the dancing figures in front of you--Your fiancé's disappeared in less than five minutes already, surely, he's just catching up with some friends. You barely feel your friend's gloved hand around your arm, forcing you to turn your attention to the solemn expression on her face.

"He's not what you think he is."

"What?" You blink repeatedly, taken aback by the sudden statement. "What are you talking about, Greta?"

"Sir Kaeya. He's been deceiving you." Miss Greta speaks softly, only enough for the two of you to hear as she clutches your hand. "I can't stay silent like this. Please believe me."

"How?"

"He's been seeing a particular woman during his travels." You stare at her pleading visage as she continues. "I just saw with her leave a few minutes ago and-and he followed suit."

"T-that's not possible." You shake your head in disbelief before placing the half-empty flute and detaching yourself from your friend. "W-we've been exchanging letters. Kaeya would never."

"I know it's all so sudden but please believe me." You can hear the desperation in your friend's voice but you ignore her, opting to excuse yourself to clear your head somewhere quiet. "Wait!"

"Excuse me."

You can't seem to hear anything other than the loud sound of music filling your ears while the figures of partygoers moved around you almost dizzyingly. And yet, you can't help but scan the crowded ballroom with wide eyes only to find no sign of a certain man. Closing the door behind your dark lonely figure, you make your way towards one of the empty balconies connected to the hallway to calm yourself--maybe the cold breeze would ease your tension.

You barely take a step towards the veranda when you see a couple, wrapped up in an embrace from behind translucent curtains. You were about to turn away but you caught sight of familiar blue hair. It felt as if lightning had struck you when you see your betrothed leaning in to kiss another woman deeply, his gloved fingers cupping her chin. You feel a constricting sensation in your chest when the two separate and gaze into each other's eyes lovingly, clearly in a world of their own.

"Was that enough to convince you, Sweetheart?" A lone tear rolls down your cheek as you feel your fingers turn frigid at your beloved's next choice of words. "I don't love her. I want to marry you."

"Oh, Kaeya!” You hear the breathlessness and happiness in the woman's voice and you turn to leave as tears begin to well up in your eyes.

Your dress billows around your fleeing form, only coming to a stop in front of the two doors leading into the ballroom. The frigidness in your hands had reached up your arms and you tried to ignore the pricking sensation as you compose yourself but the sound of footsteps approaching prompted you to enter the hall. You hear someone calling your name but you ignore them in favour of making it to the door leading to the main entrance. The door was almost at arm’s length when familiar gloved hands caught unto your arm, you glance back to see a breathless Kaeya.

"Leaving so soon?" He has the gall to seduce you with that sultry smile when he had been kissing another only a few moments ago.

"Hands off." You tug your arm away, glaring at him with indignation, if looks could kill he would have been gone from your sight. "I am going home. Now."

"What's the rush, Darling." He is slightly taken aback at your aggressiveness, his hand trying to catch your own but you only continue to glare at him.

You wanted to throttle him but you held back as angry tears prickled in the corner of your eyes but you tried to keep them at bay--you would be damned if you cried in front of this man. Opening your mouth for a scathing retort, you catch sight of the woman he had been messing around standing a few meters away--You recognized her as a noblewoman from the neighbouring country from the clothes she was wearing. You can't help the exasperated tilt on your face as she avoids your gaze promptly. The commotion between the both of you had caught the eye of curious individuals and you tried to separate yourself from the navy-haired man.

"My Love?" He tries to pull you close but you wretch your hand from his hold.

The pet name would have flustered you especially if in the company of others but you knew better than to be swayed by honied words. He had always been charming and you applaud him for his performance but it was time to draw the curtains.

"It would be in your best interest to refrain from addressing me with such familiarity." Straightening your back, you simply stare deep into his stunned expression for a few moments. "Not when your love lies elsewhere."

Opening the double doors, the clear night sky with the moon high up in the sky is revealed behind you. The hands that were once formed into fists, gracefully moved in a flourish as you held unto your skirts, the fabric of your dress shone alluringly as the moonlight framed your figure. Directing your cold gaze upon the man--the very same one who whispered sweet words and promises of a happy life only to betray your trust-- who can’t help but stare at your captivating figure.

"Please tell the Duke to expect a letter regarding the annulment of our engagement, Sir Alberich.” Anyone listening could hear the ice in your voice as you practically spat his name. "I shall be taking my leave now. Farewell."

Once you reach the safety of your carriage, you unravelled your palm and there sat a gleaming Cryo vision and you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it. The next day news of the abruptly dissolved engagement between you and the Cavalry Captain from the Knights of Favonius spreads through the city of Mondstadt almost like wildfire--you weren't surprised after the rather ostentatious scene you had caused. At the end of the day, you received a letter from the Duke of Ragnvindr inviting you for a private meeting three days from now to clarify the rather sudden change in your engagement with his son. Of course, you accepted the invitation but on one condition: You bring another guest.

It took quite the effort to prepare for the meeting but you weren't too worried as you boarded your carriage on the day of contingency--Everything would fall into place at the end of the day. You arrive a bit later than the appointment time and you could spot another familiar coach a few meters away. When you exit the carriage, you don't wait for anyone to accompany you to the Duke's office but instead, you make your way.

You knock on the heavy-looking double doors and push open the doors, not bothering to announce your presence. The three individuals within the room look up to your appearance, clearly not expecting you to appear so suddenly. The current Duke, Crepus Ragnvindr, blinked in surprise and tried to rise from his seat to address you. Walking inside the large office with measured steps, you take a seat opposite everyone and muster a civilized smile but everyone could see that it didn't reach your eyes.

"Apologies my lady but as you can see, we have a guest and--" The crimson-haired man started.

"No. I invited her." You interrupt the duke before finally meeting the gazes of the other two people in the room--your former betrothed and his current lover--both looking quite stunned. "I hope you don't mind me using your name to get her to come, Sir Alberich."

All three stared at you incredulously and but you ignore the looks, helping yourself to a cup of tea and a cookie from the serving plate situated between all four of you. Leaning back against the back of the comfortable sofa, you breezily continued.

"It only makes sense for all parties to be present when discussing such important matters." You take a sip from your teacup. "After all, a woman who would steal another's isn't much of a woman. Wouldn't you say so, Lady Emeline?"

"If you are implying that I stole Kaeya from you--!" The woman named Emeline interjected whilst the said man visibly stiffened.

"Then what would you call it then? Borrowing?"

You hear the absurdity in your voice as the duke frowns at you three, no doubt trying to make sense of the conversation. You feel the Cavalry Captain's piercing glare as you merely shake your head, trying to keep yourself from laughing.

"I would rather you keep him, Sweetheart. I don't know where that tongue of his has been." You hide behind the teacup as your lips curl up wickedly. "But I'm sure you have an…adequate idea."

"That isn't true!" Your ex-fiancée's beau denied vehemently as she grabbed onto Kaeya's arm. "Your Grace, please believe me!"

"Where's your evidence?" The Duke looks tired as he directs his question towards you.

You recount the testimonies of those who have witnessed the couple across you meeting multiple times during his time away from Mondstadt. You remind the man in question of the many times you requested he accompany you to social events only to be rejected--Why? He claims he was far too busy with the knights when in reality he was cavorting with the said woman beside him.

"And of course, let us not forget that faithful night as well."

You speak then describe the night of the Windblume festival's ball, that very same night you choose to annul the engagement after having caught the two embracing before Kaeya's impromptu proposal and her acceptance. The petrified expression on Emeline's face and Kaeya's pale visage was enough evidence for the duke who raised a hand to stop you.

"It seems that my son has done a great discourtesy to you, My Lady." The duke apologizes before sighing, he looked as if he had aged three years. "If there is any way he can make amends, I shall gladly see to it."

"I wish for two things." You place your empty teacup on the table and tuck your legs together. "One, the broken engagement should not affect the business conducted between my father's company and Duke Ragnvindr's."

"We can easily arrange for that."

"Lastly, I demand that you pay me palimony." You tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, looking like the epitome of composure. "I would like ten percent of the Dukedom's annual income to be deposited into my account every year."

"W-we cannot meet such ludicrous expectations!" The navy-haired man retorts heatedly while sending you a menacing look.

"That's a shame we cannot settle this quietly then."

You sigh softly at the said man before making a move to get up. You give the duke a curtsey before turning towards the door, glancing at the nearby grandfather clock in the corner of the room to check the time.

"I supposed everyone will come to know about the scandal involving the Knight's Cavalry Captain by the end of the day." The look of intense alarm appeared on Kaeya's face as you spoke.

"Then again I didn't expect much." You give the three a fake smile, eyes silently appraising the satisfactory damage you had dealt. "Betrayal comes easily to men who hold no conscience."

.

Childe

Those steel-blue eyes of his had always intimidated you but the raging anger within you was on the brink of release. The air was tense and everyone within the vicinity of the Grand Ballroom can feel the overwhelming pressure coming from the ginger-haired man. You stared in bewilderment at the female he held in his arms protectively. What a minx of a friend she had been, using you to further her agenda and scapegoating you. It had been a stupid mistake on your part to even trust her and you can't help but regret making those decisions.

You can only listen in horror as one of the harbingers read out the list of charges against you. Your now ex-fiancée’s acquaintances present various circumstantial points of your support for the revolution as he merely watches alongside his new beau. Within the next few minutes, you realize there was no use in defending yourself as none of your friends or family took your side—you had been pinned as the mastermind.

It was true you had been gathering information behind enemy lines considering there were whispers of an uprising in the making. You can’t help but feel all the more wronged as your fiancée had the gall to break your engagement during a crowded gathering of nobles before putting you under an impromptu trial. You try your best to defend yourself, seeing as no one seemed eager to come to your aid.

You struggle against the hold of two guards who suddenly appeared behind you, forcing you unto your knees and causing your hair to fall off its delicate bun. You sharply turn your attention to the balcony to the one who could have easily cleared the charges against you—the same individual who had ordered you to send out spies to infiltrate the opposition's base of operations.

The Tsaritsa didn't even bother to glance at you as she kept half of her face hidden behind a feathered fan, choosing to remain unconcerned. You stare at her, mouth slightly agape as the people around you continued to listen to one of the Harbingers read out the verdict. You catch your former friend clinging unto the ginger-haired man as he watches the proceedings with levity.

You are kept kneeling as they finally announce your crimes: Conspiracy to commit treason against the current head of state, participating in and contributing to the activities relating to the rebellious opposition, and espionage. The guards were rough in their handling and drag you unto your feet and you finally snap at them.

"Unhand me, you fools!" You try to wretch your arms away before glaring at the people around you--there was no point in being calm, not when everyone has turned their back on you. "I am not an animal you can drag around as you wish!"

"You can be easily mistaken as one with the way you look right now." The man you had loved spoke, his arm still wrapped around the female beside him. "But then again, I shouldn't expect much from a traitorous woman like you."

"You bastard." You feel yourself trembling—not in fear but utter fury due to the baseless insult and the humiliation. "All of you. All of you will regret this."

"Take her away."

Glowering at everyone who met your gaze within the ballroom whilst you are escorted out, the guards having to push your back harshly to get a move on. You hear the mocking laughter of the person you had once called an ally and a friend as you turn away. You could barely remember the walk down to the dungeon as your mind was clouded by intense vehemence.

Suffice to say, you found yourself spending the next few nights in a damp cell with only the nearby torches providing you warmth and light. That bastard, Childe, came to mock you in the sorry state you were in and tried to get more information regarding the enemies of the Tsaritsa—of course, you would never yield considering that you weren't even a rebel.

You were stubborn and your anger had reared its head, calling him a dog--considering that he was only good when it came to following his master’s orders and pursuing his debauched needs with anything with its legs spread open. In the next few moments, you find yourself slammed against the wall with his gloved hand wrapped around your throat painfully tight, leaving an angry red handprint. He only releases you when a few of the guards wrestle him out of your cell. He was still the same as you remember--brazen and eager for a fight. In the next few weeks, you had been served with stale bread, cold soup and partially rotten fruit and yet you wouldn’t trade anything in the world to see that look of anger on his face.

It took a few weeks for one of your colleges to finally sneak you out of the dungeon, dressed in shabby maid’s clothing, before leaving you in Morepesok, a small seaside village. During your stay there, you hear that the Fatui had been tasked with capturing and that meant having to make drastic changes to your appearance and finding a place to lay low for a while.

It took a few more months of adjusting to your new life when you hear rumours of Ajax and his new fiancée—you sneer at both their names—preparing for their engagement. The Tsaritsa had been gracious enough to host the party at the Zapolyarny Palace, the very same one where you had been branded and made an enemy of the public.

According to your sources, the rebel army recruited more people to their cause and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. It took over a week of travelling through the snowy lands and avoiding the villages where a few Fatui agents frequented before you arrived at the rebels' encampment. The frontrunner, a large scarred man that was flanked by many others merely stared you down and shook his head before declaring that he did not need women who cannot fight.

"Conquering one's enemy without having to shed blood is the greatest victory." You give him an unnerving stare from underneath your hood before continuing. "You will need my help if you wish to take the capital."

"And what makes you think I will let you in so easily." The man replies with a huff and yet his gruff reply doesn't deter you. "We don't take kindly to nobles, especially traitorous ones."

He scrutinizes you and notes your rugged appearance. A noblewoman such as yourself wouldn't have made their way behind enemy lines to merely try and infiltrate them. What would you have to gain from siding with them? Surely, you knew the repercussions and you could easily be taken as a hostage when things go south for them.

"A person doesn't think about treason until they realize that they cannot betray a country that's never theirs."

You watch as astonishment took over the men's expressions and exchanging glances at one another before finally the person you assumed to be the leader finally invites you into one of their tents. The walk to the temporary shelter has been fast and yet you felt the cautious glances but you merely ignore it; you were used to it at this point.

Of course, you expected everyone to be suspicious of you but it seemed they were more dumbfounded at your bold statement a few minutes ago. The rumours surrounding your mysterious figure seemed to be true: underneath the graceful and dignified image was a calculating and malevolent character. How fitting it was to traverse to the other side and plot against the faction you had once been a part of, it was quite thrilling.

Once settled in a chair, you note the multitude of weathered maps on the table in front of you before introducing yourself formally and cutting straight to the chase. You address the elephant in the room: You would provide intelligence to the rebel army and fully support their cause for three years but it must be within that period that the Snezhnayan nobility must be destroyed along with its head of state--the Cryo Archon--and a new form of government to be inducted.

You easily point out the different locations on the maps where a handful of agents have been stationed by the Tsaritsa. You explain that it would be best to acquire more mercenaries before taking one of the nearby forts that kept prisoners. Releasing those who had been imprisoned would most likely send both a message to the people of Snezhnaya and prompt others to join the cause.

“Whether you choose to act upon the advice I’ve given you or ignore it is up to you.” You speak solemnly with your arms crossed in front of you. "Whatever decision you make, I promise to provide you assistance of any form."

The chief—his name was Rurik from his short introduction—continues to scrutinize you from across the table. You watch him rest his elbows on the edge of the lacquered table with his bearded mouth pressed against his folded hands. You knew it was too good of an offer to pass up and both of you knew that he had no choice but to accept your help if he wished for the reformation of the state and for his men to survive this coming winter. Holding his gaze, you remain resolute as the tense silence fills the room.

“What is it that you wish to gain?”

You can’t help the sudden surge of heat swirling around the delusion that has been tucked carefully into your waistband. It had been months since you had made the drastic change from dainty lady to wanted criminal and yet your goal had been the only thing that drove you to even get up in the cold, winter mornings.

“Ah, that would be the most delightful thing one can dream of tasting after going through the depths of hell.” Your mouth perked up at the familiar word. “Revenge.”

It takes less than half an hour for a contract between you and the resistance leader to be made and suffice to say, you are pleased by the outcome. It only takes you a few months to adjust to the everyday life at the camp, between meetings with Rurik and taking part in reconnaissance missions, you watched as the rebel forces gradually grew. It took a while for the seed of insurrection to bloom but with your loving efforts, money and flowing network of information throughout the land, you were beginning to see results.

Planting spies among the servants of the elite and Fatui members while leaving fake evidence of their liaison with the rebel group for the Tsaritsa's agents to find was child's play. It doesn't take long for that trust to break when you hear of the military forces beginning to lead an inquisition among the upper class. Still, it doesn't surprise that it only takes half a year for those who had forsaken you in the past to come flocking over to your side seeking refuge.

When you proposed that several high-ranking members of the Fatui and a handful of the Harbingers be assassinated, you are immensely delighted to see that a majority of the people--both commoners and nobles--agree to the suggestion. It takes another year for the bloody affair to be concluded, you mourn for those who had lost their lives but it was all worth it when only one of the eleven Harbingers were left to defend the Tsaritsa.

It doesn't take long for a full-blown war to occur and after seizing multiple key locations, only the Zapolyarny Palace remains. A source from within the castle walls painted a rather desolate picture for the Cryo Archon, who had unfortunately greatly suffered from a failed assassination attempt a few weeks back. The rebel army marches towards the abode of Snezhnaya's head of state without much opposition with only the sound of their footsteps echoing through the silent streets.

Within the hour, the revolutionaries easily breach the palace walls and they had began swarming into the throne room where only a handful of the Fatui remained. You smile as you meet the Tsaritsa who remained seated on her throne, flanked by what remains of her guard and of course, who else would be there but the infamous eleventh Harbinger as well.

You could tell from their body language that they had no intention of surrendering quietly and yet you warn them of the outcome if they drew their weapons. You silently watch your former flame draw his hydro daggers as he keeps his eyes trailed on the people trickling through the door behind you. Rurik nods towards the small group surrounding the weakened Cryo Archon before the room erupts into violence.

You were the first one to take a swing your sword towards the ginger-haired man as he parried your next blow. Ten minutes turned to twenty and Childe could barely keep up with the onslaught of sharp blades being thrust towards his direction and the crowded room made it difficult for him to dodge. For every one of your men he struck down, three more emerged from the door but you hardly noticed them coming in as a red tinge began to appear in the corner of your vision.

"Your cause is futile, Harbinger." The intense gleam in your eyes caught him off guard and he couldn't help but feel excited when the bloodlust emanating for you was so palpable.

"Where have you been hiding this whole time?" He sports an insidious grin to hide his fatigue, trying to overwhelm your group with brute strength alone. "Have you been training to gain my attention?"

You narrow your eyes at the bastard before pressing on. Whatever ounce of affection you had for him had dried up years ago and it was too late to ask for a spar. You watch his exhaustion beginning to catch up to him before you use your delusion to produce sparks dangerously close to his visage. The said man must have been too caught up to see the short sword in your hand before it found itself digging deeply into his left shoulder.

The pain must have been unbearable seeing as liquid red bled unto his dirty clothes and yet you press on. Your blade dug deeper and as soon as he loosens his hold on his weapons, you give him a swift kick to the abdomen forcing him on his knees. Without speaking, two of your soldiers take the vision that had been hanging on his belt and the delusion in his coat pocket before tying the back of his hands tightly.

Ah, how familiar this situation seemed to be.

The chief, Rurik, catches your gaze before nodding and you could feel everyone's eyes on you. Only the sound of the Cryo Archon's laboured breathing and your heavy footsteps echoing against the tiled floor filled the quiet throne room. You give a glance at Childe who was struggling against his captors, glaring at you with those steel-blue eyes with unrelenting scorn.

"S-stop!" The Tsarista struggled as two of your men pinned her arms behind her back and one pressed a dagger against her pale neck. "How dare you put your filthy hands on me!"

"How funny, it was only years ago that I was in your position, Your Highness."

The nonchalant expression on your face doesn't change as you approach the fallen royal who also had now been forced onto her knees. This is the same woman who didn't make a move to help clear your name and ordered a manhunt--you don't feel any remorse whatsoever. You stop right before her and she jerks her head towards your towering form.

"W-whatever it is that you want! I'll give it to you!"

"Your Gnosis then."

You lift the delicate diadem off the woman's head with one hand, the crystals sparkle even in the dull lighting before your delusion engulfs the ornamental headband in flames. You feel a triumphant smile beginning to appear on your features as you finally drop the exuvia carelessly onto the soot-covered marble floors.

"Your rule has ended." You speak in finality as the woman in front of you couldn't take her eyes off your burning ones. "Either hand it over or I will take it by force."

You hear a commotion behind you as the men were having a hard time subduing the ginger-haired man who kept struggling against them. Even with the wounds, you had inflicted upon him, he continued to defy your expectations. You unsheathe your blade and press it against the delicate collar of the fallen monarch who slowly relinquished the gleaming chess piece into your awaiting hand.

You take a moment to marvel at the pulse of power and before anyone can say a word, you slide your blade against the young woman's neck effectively slitting her throat. The cacophony of startled gasps and shouts filled the room as you secure the now deceased Archon's source of power in your vacant hand. You ignore the shimmering blood of the Tsaritsa staining your feet as you give everyone a malicious leer.

"Why the surprised looks?" You feel a burst of sinister laughter bubbling past your lips as your eyes trailed over the faces within the desolate hall then finally settling on a ginger-haired man. "You made me into the woman I am today, so you only have yourselves to blame."

.

Zhongli

From a young age, your father had been the mentor that encouraged you to expand your horizons--both literally and figuratively. His position as Liyue's merchant ambassador exposed you to the rich cultures that different neighbouring countries had to offer--from architecture, cuisine, music and technology--you took everything in with wide eyes. You were about ten years old when you met Zhongli who was also accompanying his father at Yujing Terrace. It didn’t take long for the handsome brunette to introduce himself and befriend you.

"Would you like to accompany me for the day?” You blink at him with inquisitive eyes. "I know a few excellent shops you may enjoy."

From there on the two of you became inseparable and became close friends. At the age of fifteen, both Zhongli's father and your own had discussed an engagement between the two of you seeing as you were both quite happy with each other's presence and were also expected to become prominent figures in Liyue's future. You watched as Zhongli had grown into a refined and handsome man who could match any scholar or historian with his intellectual prowess but also handle himself when it came to a fight. As time passed, the said man had taken to accompanying you to various banquets and events, playing the role of a gentleman impeccably and making your heart flutter whenever you were together.

Both of you mostly see each other in between your busy schedules at Luijing Terrace, giving each other small smiles before being whisked away for the next meeting. Once the working day is done, the geo-user will be found waiting outside the screen doors of your office, always punctual when it came to accompanying you home. You relished the times you spend with your beloved, hoping that these peaceful circumstances would remain for a long time.

The rain had been pouring from the skies when you arrived home, carefully making your way to your father's study after being summoned abruptly. You find him sitting in the usual chair but instead of the usual grin he reserved for you a disheartened expression greeted you. He motions for you to sit and you do so immediately, giving him your full attention--the business contract between your family and Guhua Clan can wait. Your father slowly reveals the news concerning your engagement to Zhongli to have been annulled.

You can't help but gape at your father who remains quiet and solemn-faced. It takes a while for the information to sink in before you finally find the courage to ask why. He explains that an agreement had been formulated between the countries of Liyue and Sumeru and it required a union between two respectable noble houses. A Sumerian nobleman had offered his daughter and there had only been one eligible bachelor amongst the ranks of the Qixing and it happened to be Zhongli.

You feel indignation flaring up at both the news and the idea of the geo-user having agreed to the match without telling you. You demand your father to tell you of the terms and agreement of the pact in detail and as the minutes passed and the more you listened, it becomes clear that it was a contract that was too beneficial to pass up. The council must have been thinking about the perks of cementing relations between the neighbouring region but you can't help but feel betrayed. You retire early after sending word that you will be taking time off from work. That night you laid awake in bed, pressing your face into your pillows to stop the tears in your eyes and muffle your pitiful cries.

Had the council thought so little of you, a child that had been raised to become the next ambassador? Had you not proven your worth?

Your father? Yes, you knew he loved you but had he considered your happiness and not just the prosperity of your homeland? It seems that love is useless against Mora.

And Zhongli? You had been his long-time friend and betrothed. We're you so easily discarded? Did it all mean nothing in the end?

The days easily bleed into one another and before you knew it, you were back to work and walking mindlessly from one conference to the next. The gossip around Zhongli's recent betrothment to a Sumerian nobleman's daughter after your annulment had spread and you try to carry on with your work and remain impassive. You see him in the halls but you had taken to either avoiding his route entirely or quickening your steps and avert your gaze if you were to pass each other.

It had been another rainy afternoon when you found yourself gazing outside your office windows and noticing a gathering of people at the entrance. You spot your former beloved welcoming what seems to be a new face-- a woman with exotic yet attractive features, carrying herself in a dignified manner and instantly you could tell that she had been the promised bride from Sumeru. You quietly watched your first love take hold and press a gentle kiss on the back of his future bride's hand, a smile on his handsome visage. As cliché as it sounded, you can't help but feel the small fissure in your heart slowly widening as the feelings of betrayal and longing weighted heavily in your mind.

You attend yet another assembly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in your chest when you see Zhongli and his fiancée taking their seats. It only takes half an hour for you to figure out that it had been the Sumerian noblewoman who had requested for the meeting. Ever since her arrival in Liyue, she insisted on joining the council meetings with Zhongli to learn about her new home. At first, you don't mind her presence but rather admire her desire to learn but her constant interruption to interject her own opinions didn't leave a good impression among your fellow members.

Currently, Miss Elahe had proposed to lessen the number of Millelith seeing as Liyue was a peaceful country and to instead invest the remaining budget into the Sumerian economy. Indeed, the young woman was of high standing but to many of you, she had no knowledge nor experience when it came to commerce. Suffice to say, you alongside some fellow acquaintances cited the proposition to be high-risk and it would possibly hinder Liyue's thriving economy whilst leaving the country open to attacks. You can see behind the kind mask on her face that she is peeved at another rejected proposal but you remain impassive at her glare.

It was then everyone's attention was directed towards the Tianquan who began to announce rather important news: You would be replacing your father as Liyue's official envoy to the various allied nations. You can't help the corner of your mouth from lifting as the woman bestowed you the title as you kneel before her. You leave Luijing Terrace after being congratulated by a few individuals, happy to be finally acknowledged after working for so long--You hoped that things would begin to get better for you.

Unfortunately, your exuberance was rather short-lived. You found yourself being accompanied by multiple Millelith guards to a dark courtroom in the dead of night. You see a dozen people already within the room and you found yourself forced to stand in front. You recognized a few people as you struggled to make sense of what was happening.

"Surely, you could have called a trial at a more appropriate time." You can barely hold back the irritation in your voice.

"I'm glad to see that you recognize your trial." A tanned man with exotic features spoke up as he stared you down from the opposite side of the room. "Unfortunately for you, justice and retribution will always find a way to dispose of sinners."

"I do not know what you are talking about."

You watch as the group clamoured and amidst the cacophony of noise you discerned the familiar hooded figures of Zhongli and Elahe. You watched as the man tried to comfort his companion who merely shook her head and whispered something to him before walking towards the front accompanied by another. It was only upon closer inspection that you could see that she was sporting a few cuts and bruises on her lovely face. Before you could even speak, a bespectacled man--you assumed to be the judge called for everyone within the room to settle down.

"An assassination attempt through the use of a contract killer." The judge reads from the document in front of him as the tanned man beside Miss Elahe nodded--you assumed it was her representative. "And where is your proof?"

"I will be testifying, your Honour." You recognize a close associate of yours who avoided your gaze as they took the stand. "I have seen the defendant meeting with one of the Fatui agents shortly before Miss Elahe was attacked while on her way to Qingce Village."

The judge holds a hand up towards you before you can interject and motions for the 'witness' to continue. The individual states that you have also been seen writing dreadful threats to the victim to prevent her from attending council meetings. A small stack of letters with what appears to be in your writing is then placed in front of you and you immediately deny doing so.

"One's handwriting can be easily replicated and I have no memory of writing such things."

"Ah, but you didn't write these only because you disliked my client." The Sumerian man reasoned out as he begin to circle your still figure. "You wrote them because you were jealous of her--specifically, her position as Mr. Zhongli's fiancée."

The accusation was almost akin to being stabbed in the back with an icy dagger and you can't help but glower at the man who smiled knowingly. Elahe's representative merely took a step back before motioning towards his client who finally stood up to speak, her soft voice trembling ever so often as she began to recount the night of being assaulted by the band of Fatui agents you had allegedly hired. Halfway into the story, the female began to tremble and Zhongli silently appeared beside her and gathered her into his arms protectively.

"That's enough, Dearest." You hear him whisper before those amber eyes flashed dangerously in your direction. "We have all heard enough."

You could have easily discerned that it was an elaborate setup and that Elahe must have connived a good amount of people within this room that you were the mastermind behind her alleged attack on her life. But you come to realize that it was useless. Everyone within this room didn't believe anything you said and the one person you had thought to be of reasonable mind had completely turned his back on you, embracing the wretch that started it all. You stand in the middle and for a long time, you found yourself overwhelmed by the onslaught of accusations.

The judge continues to speak but you can barely concentrate on his words when the Geo-user leads the still crying woman to the side, holding her tightly to console her. You are finally pulled out of your chaotic thoughts when you hear your name being called and the bespectacled man finally reads out your punishment as two Millelith guards descend upon your still figure.

"The merciful Lady had requested that the death penalty be overturned and instead you shall be stripped of your position as Liyue's ambassador and banished." He speaks but you don’t even flinch. "May the Archons have mercy upon your soul."

"I do not need your prayers nor clemency." You turn towards the individuals in the room, intent on remembering every one of their faces before finally settling on both Zhongli and Elahe. "And I do not wish to be tied to a land that upholds no justice or honour."

The occupants in the room clamour at your impertinent words but you catch the pleased expression on your former fiancé’s woman just as you are escorted out of the courtroom. Within the next hour, you are forcefully ferried into a rather small ship with only the clothes on your back, a light cloak and a small bag that contained a few of your belongings. You watch the lights of Liyue Harbour, the place you called your home, slowly disappearing behind the fog as the boat drifted further away. It is only when you reach the sandy beaches of the neighbouring country in the early hours of the morning the next day that you realize how grave the situation was.

You don't wait for the ship to depart the port when you set out towards your destination, careful to stay on the main road to avoid any monsters. For days you only come across abundant rainforests with odd patches of desert areas and it was on the fifth day that you finally reach the city. If Liyue had its panoramic view of mountainous terrain and the sprawling harbour, Sumeru was a small but sparkling city filled with lights located in between a valley with dense forests surrounding it--from where you stood, you could see the famous Academia. As you make your way into the centre of the capital, you find the citizens of Sumeru were rather friendly and directed you towards a merchant’s guild.

It doesn’t take long for the merchants at the Tizqar commerce to take you under their wing after seeing your immense potential. Years of being under the tutelage of various tradesmen in Liyue had taught you to read a person’s body language coupled with your extensive knowledge in financial literacy, the guild master had enough tact to hire you. Within the year, you become a respected entrepreneur. From weapons, literary texts, rare antiques and classified information you had a knack for attaining them quickly for clients that ranged from politicians, other merchants and the common person.

Within three years, you finally began initiating your plan and that consisted of expanding your own business and gathering information on a certain Sumerian noblewoman. Your establishment was rather hard to miss--a large building that functioned as a hub for information and a gambling house that anyone can visit. It doesn’t take long for people to come flocking in with dreams of living lavishly only to diverge any type of information to save both themselves and their families from their crippling debt.

After confirming the information, it was made clear that Lady Elahe's family were closely related to members of a certain business faction and you kept a very close eye on their leader, Rashaad Dhidah. The said man had been frequenting the gambling den almost every week alongside his entourage, drawing attention to themselves and flaunting their status and wealth as nobles.

You order your staff for all of them to be treated as precious clients as a sign of respect--Whatever they wanted, you would deliver. Within another year, the man came to see you as a trusted friend and visited every other day all the while trying to convince you to join their guild. It was one faithful night that you had both been partaking in indulging in a few bottles of Dandelion Wine that you finally made your move.

"If you win a round against me, I will join the Dhidah Sect but also--” You motion toward the coffee table in front of you where a chessboard sat with a small wave of your hand. “--give you this building.”

“That's quite the offer.” The man across you laughed almost drunkenly and you merely flash him a charming smile. "And if I lose?"

“You shall owe me a favour: I would like to experience being in your shoes for a day.” You say in a sing-song tone before leaning back against the couch. “I am still young and I would like to think of it as learning from the best.”

"That does sound like a reasonable request," Rashaad mumbles before finally nodding weakly and allowing you to formulate a written contract.

The game lasts about an hour or two and you coolly beat the man across you to which he demands a rematch. The second match doesn't take quite as long seeing as Rashaad had fallen asleep shortly after you had captured his queen, grumbling about youngsters being too smart for their good these days to which earns a chuckle from you.

Had it been luck that allowed you to easily snatch power from a drunk man's hands? Or maybe that the leader of one of the most powerful organizations in Sumeru was dumb enough to believe your words. You did not need a day but only a few hours to make a few amendments to some legal documents ensuring that Lady Elahe will be no longer recognized as the firstborn of her family and thus lose the support of the Dhidah commerce guild.

Ah, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? You had already seized power, why not use it to its fullest extent?

It doesn’t take much for you to take another spare piece of parchment, quill ready to create another new and improved draft of the agreement. After giving the document another look over until you were satisfied, you forge Rashid’s signature and take the signet ring from the sleeping man’s fingers to finish off the deed. Calling for a few members of staff, you hand the sealed document with orders to present it to the Dhidah Sect’s headquarters in the morning and for the man currently passed out on your couch to be brought to a spare room.

After your personnel had left with the contract and taken Rashaad away, you feel a small sense of triumph coming over you. For how long you had spent planning your retaliation and finally it was all coming together. You feign confusion when you are summoned to the country's high court but this time you had a handful of skilled representatives defend your case. You watch the proceedings with your small party, taking pleasure in watching one of the most powerful commerce factions in Sumeru come apart after learning their leader had essentially handed their organization to you after losing to a simple game. Not once but twice.

It doesn't take much for the judge to hand out his verdict and you merely flash the previous head of the Dhidah Sect a coy smile before being escorted out into the crowded road. You weren't that heartless though, you offered him a job working as an underling for one of your shops located near the border of Natlan. As you exit the building, anyone on the street could tell by the wide grin on your face that you had now taken over the prestigious group. By lunchtime, you found yourself looking down from the large windows in your new office, located right in the centre of Sumeru's busiest district.

You watch in silence as a few dark storm clouds began to slowly make their way across the evening skies. Admiring the scenery, you had thought it was a delightful coincidence that rain would always come when a rather consequential event occurred in your turbulent life. You lean back against the supple couch with your eyes closed for a few minutes whilst your fingers absent-mindedly played with the opened letter in your hands.

"This is rather amusing. It's the third letter this month.” You tell your assistant, Inanna, as she served you a cup of steaming herbal tea while you waved the piece of paper around. "The mighty Qixing sending an official letter of apology in the hopes of settling a trade agreement?"

"It seems the economy is not doing very well." The woman informs you as you drop the letter on a nearby coffee table in favour of the tea. "There are reports of the Northland Bank denying loans to the public due to the declining state of the nation. Rumours are circulating that they will be withdrawing from Liyue within the next few months.”

Purchasing all stocks that was related to common household items such as textiles, paper, and medicinal herbs but also weapons, minerals and ores had proved to be quite an effect on the people of Liyue. The increased prices on such commodities eventually became a concern to many Liyueans who had lost their jobs after being discharged from the Millelith, courtesy of a certain individual. Unrest slowly began to take over the hearts of many who also began to whisper corruption taking root amongst the Qixing.

"Hmm…" You hum softly before taking another sip of your drink. "Any news within the circle?"

"The merchants are desperately trying to keep themselves afloat whilst trying to meet the demands of the people." Inanna remarks before adding. "They have resorted to purchasing several products from our stores located by the border. At twice the market price."

"Impressive. This is an opportunity for us." You tilt your head thoughtfully before lowering your empty cup and glancing at your companion. "Make preparations, Inanna. We're going on a trip."

At end of the week, you find yourself on a vessel accompanied by many people whom you entrusted to keep you safe during the journey. Sailing the sea, was a rather refreshing experience considering that you had been mostly surrounded by stacks of paper and accounting ledgers. You welcomed the sound of waves hitting the side of the wooden vessel and the faint smell of saltwater. On the third day, you found yourself staring at the horizon as Liyue Harbour slowly came into view.

The moment your ship docks, a curious crowd had already begun to appear at the port area. You don't recognize the faces among the sea of people as you are escorted off the boat by your two guards. A young man by the name of Bu'yun introduced himself as your guide and lead your party to Luijing Terrace. Before departing the port, you sent a few individuals from your party to gather information and get a better understanding of the current situation within Liyue. During the short walk, you keenly observed your surroundings. For a city that was on the verge of civil unrest, there were a few shops and people still going on about their daily lives and you can't help but be impressed at their perseverance.

At the entrance of the pavilion stood a pretty but formidable-looking young woman--you recognized her as Keqing, the current Yuheng. She gives you a bow, welcoming you to Liyue and apologizing for the lax decorum seeing as the public wasn't too keen towards members of the Qixing at the moment. You wave her off her concerns and allow her to guide you towards one of the main assembly rooms where most crucial affairs were discussed.

"Please follow me."

The doors open and you recognize the courtroom as the very same one that you had been falsely accused of instigating an assassination plot. The sound of chattering ceases as your small party walks into the room quietly. You approach the large conference table and steadily meet everyone's gaze within the tense space. You observed the mix of both new and old faces before Keqing directs you towards a reserved seat while being closely followed by Inanna from behind. You had noticed Lady Elahe hovering beside her significant other who seemed faintly dumbfounded at your appearance.

"We welcome the Representative of the Tizqar Commerce." An older man approaches you with a smile on his face, holding out a gloved hand and you merely nod at the man. "Thank you for coming to Liyue."

"The pleasure is all mine." You give his hand a firm shake, ignoring the looks of surprise from everyone within the council and slightly affronted expression of faces of your escorts before settling down into your designated chair.

The meeting begins shortly and you find yourself bombarded with questions regarding the trade deal and you listen half-heartedly. There had been growing complaints concerning the tariffs on a few products made in Liyue and you were aware for months now. The tax duties had been implemented a few years ago to encourage the people of Sumeru to purchase locally but also provide respite to the citizens who were struggling to purchase their own. It was only after learning that the citizens of Liyue had slowly begun to migrate to either Sumeru or Mondstadt that you offer to think the matter over and that seemed to satisfy some of them.

Halfway into debating the different methods to stimulate the economy, you propose the gradual reimplementation of the nation’s military force with a financial incentive, courtesy of your company of course. You pause abruptly before addressing the rather deep scowl on Elahe’s pretty face.

“It seems some disagree with my suggestion. If you have a problem speak up.” You motion for your assistant who takes a step forward and hands you a thick ledger. “Glowering at me will not help feed your people.”

“There is no war or conflict within these lands so we do not need to reinstate the Millelith.” One of the merchants, you recognized to be a supporter of the Sumerian noblewoman, spoke up.

“So, you would rather wait for something to happen?” You pause from writing and turn to your secretary who dutifully stood a step behind your chair. “How long would it take for hired help from Sumeru to arrive on these shores Inanna?”

“Seven days on a boat. Another seven if travelling through the land.” You nod thoughtfully as a coy grin creeps on the corner of your mouth. “It would take another two weeks at the very latest to hire more mercenaries from neighbouring countries if desired. Liyue at its current state can be easily taken within a month or so.”

That was a lie but it seemed that more than half of the assembly took your companion's words seriously--you were going to have to give Inanna a raise when you return home.

"That's quite important information, don't you think? Can't let the wrong people hear about such things."

You observed the occupants in the room with an appraising look on your face as they all began to talk at the possibility of being invaded and that it had been a mistake to dismiss the people who had kept the nation safe from both invading forces and monsters but also uphold order. Zhongli seemed to have noticed his significant other avoiding everyone's subtle but accusatory look and you can't help but add fuel to the festering fire.

"But if someone paid me a rather handsome amount. I am not averse to disclosing such details."

"Wait! That would breach the contract you signed a few weeks ago!" the young Yuheng abruptly stands from her chair, lavender orbs staring at you fiercely. “You wouldn’t go back on your word, would you?”

"You stated that you would assist the people of Liyue," Zhongli added as his amber orbs glowed in anger at your treachery.

"Hmm, I don't recall adhering to such a thing." Ah, you couldn't hide the mirth in your usually placid orbs as Keqing, Zhongli and a few members looked quite alarmed. "If you read it properly, I agreed to support the country's economy. Not protect its inhabitants."

"You underhanded shrew!" You almost roll your eyes.

"You deceived us!" Another shouted.

"You are nothing but a traitor!" This time Elahe was the one that spoke up. "We should have disposed of you years ago."

"Oh? A traitor, you say?" You find yourself trembling ever so slightly from the silent laugh bubbling in your chest before meeting the woman's gaze. "Well, it does take one to know one, right?"

If you thought the atmosphere within the space was tense, it increased three-fold and you could see how the members of the conglomerate stared at you in a mix of utter disbelief and animosity. The tension was quite palpable and no doubt your guards were ready to draw their weapons if any of the other occupants in the room decided to engage in a physical fight. But if she wishes to speak about conspirators, you would humour her.

"The night you accused me of false crimes and stripped me of my title then mercifully expatriated me." You remain seated as you stare at the couple, ignoring the confused look of the other attendees. "You taught me something considerably indispensable about myself."

You sharply turn your head to look at the said woman in question who seemed dumbfounded at the sudden attention. The both of them must have seen the uninhibited wrath that gleamed in your eyes as you continue to stare at them from across the table. You watch as she hid against the broad shoulder of your childhood friend who stared at you with furrowed brows.

"I'm not as merciful as you."

The Sumerian noble’s face turned ashen as you leaned your elbows on the table and linked your fingers together. The glimmer of a gold signet adorning your smallest finger doesn't escape everyone's attention and you watch in silent glee as the wretched woman recognized her kindred's insignia. In under two minutes, you watched as anxiety, disbelief and terror washed over her now pale countenance--you couldn't help but send her a wide smile.

"Using the Dhidah conglomerate's name and promising the Qixing ten million Mora." You close the ledger you had been writing in. "You cannot possibly think I will hand it to you when you are no longer part of the branch."

"Y-You! You can't be the head!?” The poor woman stared at you with wide eyes, clutching unto Zhongli's shoulder tightly as you ignore her, turning towards the leader of the Qixing who stared at the unravelling events.

"I'm rather willing to compromise though." Inanna deposits a document into your awaiting hand as you slid it towards the older gentleman. "I will give you a limited-time opportunity."

"What is it that you want?"

"Simply strip these two of their ranks from the council and give me Elahe.” You hear people gasping as you tap at the parchment, further explaining the terms in a simplified manner, the dangerous smile never leaving your face. "Then I will give you ten--no, twenty million Mora as well as aid you in the restoration of your beloved country. You have half an hour."

"Don't listen to her! She's nothing but a liar! " Elahe tries to approach the leader who glares at her with such intensity causing her to close her mouth.

"I-I need to think this over. I need a day."

"Elder, surely there is a better opt--" Zhongli tries to speak but you interrupt him.

"No. Half an hour." You repeat yourself adamantly. "Or I shall return to Sumeru by nightfall."

The leader of the Qixing stares at the document helplessly as he scrutinizes and deciphers the paragraph of any signs of deception. You watch quietly as the assembly gathered around the said individual, arguing and debating rather loudly amongst each other. Anytime either Elahe or Zhongli tries to speak, they are ignored or reprimanded for causing the predicament they were all facing. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch them betray their fellow countryman and ally all for their own self-preservation—How utterly revolting.

"Miss, it has been half an hour." You immediately open your eyes and turn your attention to the Qixing who seemed to have made a rather difficult decision--and it looks to be you will be getting what you wanted in the end.

You listen as the leader informs you of their decision and honour your terms. It wasn't as exhilarating watching as your former childhood friend and his woman lose their status and designations. You motion for one of your guards to apprehend the latter who struggled futilely, begging for her lover or anyone for help. With a motion of your hand, you watch as she is brought a few steps in front of you.

"L-let go of me! You can't do this to me!"

"Oh, but I already have, My Dear." You remain seated with your legs crossed and the ominous expression on your face is enough to send shivers down her back. "Justice awaits you in Sumeru."

Before she can retort or insult you any further, Elahe finds herself gagged and roughly hauled out of the room and into the waiting ship. You permit yourself a breath before slowly rising from your seat and straightening your clothes before thanking the room's occupant for their time and business.

"As per the agreement, I will be leaving you five million Mora at this time. The rest will be at later date.” With practiced grace, Inanna opens one of the nearby chests and the merchants stare disbelievingly at the overflowing golden coins that escape unto the floor. "I will see the rest of you tomorrow to further discuss the gradual implementation of employment for the citizens of Liyue."

You are about to turn away to leave the delegation but you pause to look at the familiar long-haired brunette whom you had considered your first love. His attention is on you after you call his name. The mere idea of Zhongli remaining unscathed from today's events only ignited your thirst for vengeance and you would be damned if he walked around a free man. You would make sure to let him have a taste of the humiliation and betrayal you had experienced all those years ago.

"Was the damage you have dealt not sufficient?" The geo-user's silky baritone retained a rather malicious edge and you can't help wish to torment him further.

"Surely, you didn't think that was the end, My friend." It doesn't take much for one to hear the pure spite in your voice as you unflinchingly stare back at those amber orbs. "Prepare yourself for not even the Archons can deny me of having my retribution."

.

[slateir]

REESE HADN’T EXPECTED THIS. Of all the potential secrets and horrors that lay within the tiled floors of Playtime Co, the truth lurking beneath it’s innocent facade seemed more suited to a horror movie than real life. Bloodied halls and observation rooms peeking into what they thought was their own private haven. The pipes on the wall, more suited to a scientist’s lab than an orphanage, and the hazy memory of red smoke pouring out. This was no home sweet home, if it ever even was. This was a cage built by monsters.

Her and Fritz had come searching for the truth, beckoned by the promises of answers, hidden behind poppy flowers. What they’d found instead was infinitely more fucked up than their little child brains had likely been able to handle. Human experiments and toys that moved and bled. Games made not for their enjoyment, but to match them with their ideal cage, denied the release of death until their masters deigned to permit them. (Or until starvation or the other toys came for them, apparantly.)

They’d been trying to track down what happened to all the kids from playcare, to the one adult they actually cared about, after Mommy let them pass. (Or Marie, as she’d once been.) A surprise encounter with the hulking form of Bobby Bearhug in the depths of Playcare had stopped them in their tracks, frantically trying to survive the smiling critter’s attacks before it suddenly seemed to stop, head tilting in almost recognition.

(They’d managed to find Steven after all. Reese isn’t sure whether this fate is better or worse than the rest of the factory.)

Fritz had, understandably, needed a minute to himself, leaving Reese to face their former counselor/father-figure turned giant plush by herself. Or, well, their (?) giant arms, lifting her clear off the ground with ease, turning into a spin that has her laughing despite herself, a welcome contrast to the constricting feel of them not long before.

“I can’t believe you, either.” This was definitely not how the pair of former Playcare kids had imagined this reunion going. “You know we had to grow up eventually, right?” Though, considering the eventual end of everyone else who got trapped in these halls… “At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go.”

She returned the embrace wholeheartedly, grateful as her feet finally made contact with the ground again. Despite all the resurfacing horrors of their time in Playcare, Reese had actually managed to miss the toys, the comforting feel of their plush fur getting her through the long, lonely nights once Tommy had left the orphanage. (Though how far he’d actually gotten has yet to be revealed. Did he manage to get adopted out, against all odds? Or did he fall victim to the doctor’s blades like seemingly so many of them?)

“Wasn’t all that easy. The workers made the grabpacks look easier to use than they actually are, but Huggy and Mommy let us pass.” Not without a slightly tense stand-off of their own, but even with her forced role in matching child with toy, Mommy Long-Legs had always cared about all the kids that passed through her game station, she was the only mommy some of them had ever known, after all.

“What about you? I mean, it’s been a long time.”

@slateir said: "You didn't think we'd just leave you here forever, did you?"

She's talking to Steven, probably; he's the one who got left behind, after all, the one for whom Reese and Fritz (Fritz Fritz Fritz he's here he's back--!) would risk their own safety to rescue.

It's terribly heartwarming to be loved that much, and Bobby doesn't know how to tell Reese that they shouldn't have bothered things have gotten complicated. "Steven Bell" hasn't been particularly active for a long time, now. Sure, they still have his memories, but after a few years he just sort of... shut down. There was no reason for him to stick around with Fritz gone and everything else becoming so... difficult. There simply hadn't been any need for him, not when Bobby could handle things just fine on her own, and eventually he had settled into his new body, his new mind, and his new role.

And had left the past in the past.

...but now they're back. For him. And who knows? Maybe it will be enough to coax some of his old personality back to the surface. In the meantime, however, Bobby's just as excited to see them as Steven would have been.

"I just can't believe it!" she says, scooping Reese into a hug that quickly turns into a full spin. "Look at you, all grown up!"

It had actually taken her a while to recognize Reese at all. That had made for a bit of an awkward reunion, but accidental attempts at violence aside, Bearhug couldn't be more overjoyed to see how her little one has matured.

She finally sets Reese back down, but doesn't break contact, nuzzling into her with no sign of stopping.

"So brave and strong! How did you get all the way down here?"

And how would they get back up?

Sudden guilt and concern flashes through them at the realization that the two children might have doomed themselves, and maybe Steven isn't entirely gone, because the nervous self-blame that bubbles up inside them is distinctly his.

Bobby's hold on Reese tightens imperceptibly. There's no sense in wallowing in negative thoughts. The pair is here now, and there's no changing that, and all three of them will escape together! She won't be abandoned by the people she loves the most. Not again.