#branch chandelier

[pingtopong]

San Francisco Dining Room Great Room

Idea for a great room with a mid-sized contemporary white floor, white walls, and no fireplace

[written-in-wonder]

Bedroom - Brick Bedroom - mid-sized contemporary master medium tone wood floor, brown floor and brick wall bedroom idea with white walls and no fireplace

[betsyloop]

San Francisco Dining Room Great Room Great room - mid-sized contemporary white floor great room idea with white walls and no fireplace

[degildir]

Mid-sized transitional master bathroom design example with white tile and stone tile flooring, gray cabinets, gray walls, an undermount sink, and raised-panel cabinets.

Imagen Liquida

[prosperousmindset25]

Elevate Your Dining Room with the Elegant Art Deco-inspired crystal Branch Chandelier

When it comes to home decor, few elements make a statement quite like a striking chandelier. For those seeking to infuse their dining space with sophistication and timeless style, the Elegant Art Deco-Inspired Crystal Branch Chandelier is a must-have. This exquisite lighting fixture not only enhances the aesthetic of your dining room but also adds a touch of luxury and refinement. At ChoiceSelect.shop, we are excited to showcase this stunning chandelier that combines classic Art Deco charm with modern functionality. Here’s why it should be at the top of your list for transforming your dining area.

Why Choose the Art Deco-Inspired Crystal Branch Chandelier?

1. Embrace Timeless Art Deco Elegance

The Art Deco era is celebrated for its luxurious and glamorous design elements, characterized by bold geometric shapes, opulent materials, and intricate details. The Crystal Branch Chandelier is a perfect embodiment of this iconic style. Its elegant crystal branches and sophisticated silhouette reflect the grandeur of the Art Deco period, bringing a touch of vintage elegance to your dining room. This chandelier not only serves as a lighting fixture but also as a piece of art that enhances your home’s decor.

2. Stunning Crystal Illumination

One of the standout features of this chandelier is its high-quality crystal construction. The crystal branches are meticulously designed to catch and refract light, creating a dazzling display that illuminates your dining space with brilliance and warmth. The chandelier’s radiant light enhances the ambiance, making it ideal for both intimate dinners and festive gatherings. The shimmering effect of the crystals adds an extra layer of luxury to your dining experience.

3. Versatile Design for Modern Interiors

While rooted in the Art Deco tradition, this chandelier’s design is versatile enough to complement a range of interior styles. Whether your home features contemporary, transitional, or traditional decor, the Crystal Branch Chandelier seamlessly integrates into various design schemes. Its elegant lines and sophisticated details make it a versatile choice that enhances modern interiors while retaining a touch of classic charm.

4. Exceptional Craftsmanship and Quality

Craftsmanship is key to the beauty and durability of any lighting fixture. The Crystal Branch Chandelier is crafted with precision and attention to detail, ensuring that each crystal branch is perfectly aligned and securely mounted. The use of high-quality materials guarantees that this chandelier not only looks stunning but also stands the test of time. It’s an investment in both style and durability, making it a valuable addition to your home.

5. Enhance Your Dining Experience

The right lighting can transform a dining area into a welcoming and elegant space. The Crystal Branch Chandelier serves as a focal point that draws attention and admiration. Its ambient lighting creates a refined atmosphere, making every meal feel special and memorable. Whether you are hosting a formal dinner party or enjoying a casual family meal, this chandelier enhances the overall dining experience with its luxurious glow.

Key Features of the Crystal Branch Chandelier:

Art Deco-Inspired Design: Exudes classic Art Deco elegance with a modern twist.

Crystal Illumination: High-quality crystals provide brilliant, refracted light.

Versatile Style: Complements a variety of interior design themes.

Exceptional Craftsmanship: Meticulously crafted for durability and visual appeal.

Enhanced Ambiance: Creates an inviting and luxurious atmosphere in your dining room.

Why Invest in the Crystal Branch Chandelier?

Timeless Elegance: Elevate your dining room with a chandelier that combines the opulence of the Art Deco era with contemporary style, making it a standout piece in your home decor.

Versatility and Style: The chandelier’s adaptable design ensures it complements various decor styles, enhancing your dining space with sophistication.

Brilliant Illumination: Enjoy the beauty of high-quality crystal lighting that creates a shimmering effect and adds a touch of luxury to your dining area.

Durable Craftsmanship: Invest in a well-crafted fixture that promises longevity and continues to impress for years to come.

Transformative Impact: Experience the transformation of your dining space into a refined and elegant setting, perfect for any occasion.

Where to Buy

At ChoiceSelect.shop, we are dedicated to providing high-quality home decor that enhances your living spaces. The Elegant Art Deco-Inspired Crystal Branch Chandelier is available now, offering the perfect blend of classic elegance and modern functionality.

Illuminate your dining area with the timeless beauty of the Crystal Branch Chandelier. Explore our collection today and find the perfect lighting solution to elevate your home decor.

For more information or assistance, our expert customer service team is here to help. Visit ChoiceSelect.shop to discover premium lighting and decor solutions that bring sophistication and style to your home.

[burn-like-snow]

[jjkssin]

Embrace of Ruins. Jk

Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.

Character count: 14,962

Genre: Dark Romance | Historical

Tropes: Dominant , controlling jk, forced proximity, obsession , captive romance, war , fragile female lead, mentions of death, mature.

Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.

The Kingdom had fallen.

This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.

People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.

At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen king’s lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.

The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.

His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.

Including her.

She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winter’s first snow.

___

Amidst it all, She ran.

Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.

She had seen him.

He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.

He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.

She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.

The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.

The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.

She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.

She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.

A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.

Him.

The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.

"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.

Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.

Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.

"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."

The rumors had not done her justice.

She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.

Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.

A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.

"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"

With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.

She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.

The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.

His men stood waiting at the forest’s edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.

Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.

A victory he would not let slip from his grasp

__

Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.

__

The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeon’s kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.

When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeon’s kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.

He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Take her to my chambers,” he ordered coldly. “Strip her of the dead king’s colors. She wears only what I give her now.”

__

The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.

But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.

The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husband’s cruel reign.

Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.

As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeon’s castle to his private chambers.

The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.

His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.

“That pathetic excuse for a king,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."

Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.

"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.

"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husband…" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.

His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.

Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.

"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."

Her stomach twisted in fear.

"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.

Jeon chuckled darkly. “Of course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Did he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?”

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to think about it.

Jeon chuckled at her silence.

“You will no longer be a widow,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“You will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.” His voice low in command.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?

Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.

Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.

Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.

"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.

"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."

His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."

Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.

Y/N’s throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.

"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."

His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."

Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“I could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.

“You will know what it means to be wanted,” he promised. “To be craved.”

She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.

She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.

But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.

He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.

"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."

His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.

She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.

And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.

She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.

__

The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.

She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.

Her body heavy with exhaustion.

Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.

She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.

A low voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.

He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.

"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."

She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.

"What matters?"

Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."

Her breath caught.

Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.

She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"

"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.

She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.

Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.

"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.

"You are meant for me."

His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.

She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.

But she would not surrender this.

"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.

"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "

His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.

"You will," he said simply.

She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.

"Not if I am not to be queen."

A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.

"A throne?"

She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."

Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.

Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.

"You speak as though you have a choice."

She gasped softly but she did not break away.

Jeon’s other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.

"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "

His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."

The air shifted violently.

Jeon’s grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.

For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.

And he did not tolerate defiance.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."

Today, she would become his wife.

Not his queen.

He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.

He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.

__

The silk gown clung to Y/N’s trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.

Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.

"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.

Her feet refused to move.

In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.

“You speak of power as if it is something I would give you,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. “You forget your place.”

She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.

"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."

He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.

“I was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.”

“I did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.”

Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. “Begin.”

The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.

But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.

He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.

Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.

He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.

Jeon had indeed won the war.

But he had not won her.

__

(End)🤍

[cecilepages]

Miami Dining Room Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic limestone floor and beige floor enclosed dining room remodel with white walls

[yuriandtea]

Enclosed Kitchen in Atlanta

Enclosed kitchen - mid-sized traditional l-shaped dark wood floor enclosed kitchen idea with an undermount sink, raised-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, granite countertops, metallic backsplash, mosaic tile backsplash, paneled appliances and an island

[hoaxsuicide]

Dallas Dining Room Enclosed

Mid-sized contemporary enclosed dining room idea with a light wood floor, white walls, and no fireplace

[jazzypaophotography]

Dining Room in Los Angeles

Inspiration for a large contemporary light wood floor and beige floor great room remodel with white walls

[xtend-theme]

Home Office Freestanding in Orange County Inspiration for a huge coastal freestanding desk light wood floor and beige floor study room remodel with white walls

[safequeersex]

Transitional Dining Room Kansas City Enclosed dining room - mid-sized transitional limestone floor and beige floor enclosed dining room idea with a stone fireplace, beige walls and a standard fireplace

[recordsmycatdestroyed]

Kids Room Teen in New York a large, modern boy's room photo with a concrete floor and white walls.

[beloveds-embrace]

(p2 of this poly fae 141 x human reader (different take)) cw: bittersweet

The palace breathes for you.

It bends around you like soft wind around reeds, gently guiding your dazed steps through moonlit corridors and blooming halls. Time has no anchor for you anymore. Some mornings, you wake to suns that burn blue instead of gold, moons that double and chase each other through the sky. But it doesn’t matter, because the castle knows where you are meant to be even if you don’t.

When you rise, the curtains part without a hand to touch them. They sigh open like petals, letting soft light bathe the velvet floor. Your robe- light as spider’s silk- slide from their hooks on their own, floating to wrap around your body with reverent care. Your slippers are waiting at the side of your bed when you swing your legs over. They’ve been warmed by the hearth, and when your toes slide in, the threads whisper your name back to you in tiny, enchanted stitches.

The walls pulse faintly with warmth when you pass, as if the stone itself loves you. the chandeliers above never burn too bright; their glow always softens when your gaze turns up, as though they remember you used to hate harsh light when you read.

A cluster of servants waits quietly at your chamber doors- not because they must, but because they care and they want to, and had eagerly offered to be of service when you’d requested your own chambers. Gentle-handed dryads with hair like woven moss, old pixie seamstresses who chatter softly in riddles, even a hulking troll-footman who ducks his head so low it scrapes the frame. They do not speak unless you speak first, for sometimes you forget words, and silence is a safer thing to carry.

Then, soak in a bath drawn by nymph-handmaidens who speak in ripples and laughter, though mirror clouds when you stare too long- it doesn’t want to upset you, doesn’t want you to see how much time has tried to touch you, even when magic holds your youth like a fragile glass.

Today, your steps take you toward the gardens. The floor glows faintly under your feet- not because it needs to, but because the castle thinks maybe it helps you find your way. Everything- every stone, every breath- remembers you, even when you don’t remember yourself.

Or maybe you meant to go to the library. You aren’t sure- but the will-o-wisps know.

They flit ahead of you, little balls of mischievous light usually known for luring travelers into the woods until their bones turn to moss. But not you, never you.

They hover like faithful stars orbiting the sun, bobbing through the air with a delighted hum, zigzagging ahead in slow trails so your wandering feet follow the right turns. They tinkle like laughter when you stumble near a wrong archway and dart to the correct one instead.

You find yourself in your garden, after all, where the gardeners wait. Not the usual ones- no, the Queen's Garden has been assigned only to the most trusted now. A century-old elf in gloves of woven bark, a dryad who grows her own apron from her chestnut branches, and even a silent golem of moss and marble who only speaks in scents. They have trimmed the hedges into soft spirals and arranged the blooms into delicate mosaics.

Today, they have laid out a path of starpetals- tiny, glimmering flowers that shimmer faintly under moon or sun. Once, long ago, they were your favorite.

But now-

“I don’t like those.” You murmur as you pass, staring at the trail.

The golem stills, the elf looks up sharply, and the dryad tilts her head, concerned.

Kyle, who’d been a quiet shadow just behind you from the moment you stepped out of your chambers, slows his steps. “You always used to ask for them,” he says gently. “Had us plant ‘em everywhere your shadow touched.”

You frown. “… I don’t remember that. I don’t like them.”

“It’s alright,” he says after a short pause, and offers you his arm. “We can pick new ones. Whatever you like, love.”

You nod, but you don’t take his arm. Your fingers drift toward the flowers, brushing one before you turn away again.

Later, as your thoughts begin to drift again, the flowers are gone without fanfare. By the time you return to the courtyard, it is filled with soft white ferns and wandering frost-ivy that glows faintly in the dusk.

The castle heard you. It always does.

You wander deeper into the woods near the edge of the palace, where the magic gets older, thicker- where even the bravest guards rarely step.

A warm breeze carries the scent of jasmine and crushed duskberry petals. The patient trees sing here not with voices, but with the rustle of knowing leaves, always parting to give you gentle shade or letting sunlight filter through just when you like it.

There stands a shadow that heralds the first whispers of death.

Thrain.

The phantom stag, horned and enormous. He stands between two trees gnarled by age and shaped like reaching hands, his antlers scraping the sky, mist curling around his hooves.

But for you?

He bows his head.

You smile and reach for him as if you’ve done it every day of your life- and maybe you have. Maybe there’s no need to remember if the body still knows. And he lets you pat the velvet between his antlers, lowering his massive head so you can nuzzle your cheek against him. His body radiates cold like the mountain peaks, but it doesn’t sting. It soothes. Your hands slip into the thick mist of his mane, and you close your eyes.

You nap there, nestled against the beast feared by all.

When you stir again, you’re no longer alone.

“Thought we’d find you here.” Gaz murmurs, his voice quiet like the wind between reeds. He kneels beside you, offering his usual steaming cup- tea brewed with memory-moss and lemon-pearl leaves.

You drink. You always do, when he brings it.

“You missed lunch.” Simon says gently. He’s seated on a nearby root, his mask still on, though you know his eyes soften when he looks at you.

Johnny is already braiding moonflowers into your hair, humming a fae tune that turns the leaves brighter with every note. He doesn’t say much, just keeps you close with the warmth of his touch.

You blink slowly at them, still a bit sleep-soaked. “…Thrain didn’t want me to leave.”

“Aye, well,” Johnny grins. “He’s protective, tha’s all. You’ve got everyone wrapped ‘round yer little finger, haven’t you?”

Your head droops again. The fog curls soft around your thoughts. But then- you feel it; the weight of a gaze like a promise, like a spell woven in devotion.

John.

You don’t turn, but you feel him draw near. You always do, always will. His presence thrums like a second heartbeat in your chest, steady and storm-deep. He places a warm hand on your back, the other sliding under your legs as he lifts you into his arms.

“Time for rest, love,” he murmurs into your hair, the crown of your head. “You’ve wandered far enough for today.”

Thrain snorts, mist coiling between his antlers, but does not follow. He only watches as your husband carries you back into the palace, trailed by your silent protectors and glowing will-o-wisps.

“I don’t like the starpetals,” you say again, feeling the need to inform him. “They make me sad.”

His steps falter once, but then he is gently pulling you closer, his forehead against yours. “We’ll find new flowers, then,” John whispers. “And you can love them for the first time. As many times as you need.”

And the castle sighs with peace. Its walls bend again, opening the path home.

P3

[mjmayhem]

Great Room Dining Room in New York Great room - large modern dark wood floor great room idea with white walls and no fireplace