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wavesmp3 · 4 years

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[hyunjae] the sea is yours to take

pairing: lee jaehyun x (female) reader genre: fantasy, royalty au, romance, slow burn warnings: mentions of death, some violence wc: 36k

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jaehyun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts.

a/n: and here i present another reposted fic because yolo. the original work version is here if you’re interested. this fic contains a very odd mix of tbz members and ocs so beware. also the line breaks indicate a new chapter (sort of). anyways enjoy but warning the beginning is very slow.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Orindell had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Orindell asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Orindell had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Orindell had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Orindell would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Juyeon and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Juyeon.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Seth.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Juyeon’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Juyeon.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Juyeon now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Juyeon. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Orindell-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jaehyun was not one for traveling. To Jaehyun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jaehyun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jaehyun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jaehyun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jaehyun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jaehyun understands even less why his father and Captain Younghoon put up with it.

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party.

"Lord Jaehyun," Younghoon says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this."

And of course, Younghoon is right. Jaehyun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jaehyun has yet to see the latter tale, Younghoon is right; Jaehyun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River.

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jaehyun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river.

"Yes," Younghoon hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season."

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jaehyun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well."

"It does." Younghoon says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Younghoon must sense Jaehyun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jaehyun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver.

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Avi that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Peter’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Peter and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Roen, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Roen’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Roen is Prince Orindell who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Orindell meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Orindell the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish."

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers.

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Roen's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court."

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return."

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect.

"Father, you can't-" Orindell blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom."

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’.

“You!” Orindell shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Roen cuts Orindell off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Orindell is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Roen's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Peter's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today." The name Jaehyun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jaehyun’s name before. Jaehyun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago.

“But—” Orindell begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Seth to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Orindell, for Juyeon, for Roen, for Peter. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Roen. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food.

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Roen?"

A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Roen's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Roen. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this."

He smiles again, “Thank you." He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Roen pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Roen please, I don't need your pity."

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jaehyun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Younghoon." You vaguely knew of Captain Younghoon. He was the youngest ever Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jaehyun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son.

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Roen asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely."

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Roen radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Roen. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Roen.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?"

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits."

"Were you close to him?"

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. You spend it immersed in your memories.

Finally, Roen speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner.

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Orindell to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real.

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Orindell,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Orindell means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Orindell, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Roen was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Orindell had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered.

“Indeed, he does.”

“Then…” Orindell hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Orindell was simple and delightful, of a time when Orindell was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Orindell reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Roen. In a way, that makes Orindell so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Orindell.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.”

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.”

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice. “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.”

Orindell laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Peter then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Peter reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Peter long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Orindell hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Orindell waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.”

“Orindell,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Orindell telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Orindell persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Orindell, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Orindell, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Orindell.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Orindell, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Juyeon. “Oh, Juyeon,” you say in shock.

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile.

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Roen told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire.

“Roen sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Roen always talks plenty,” Juyeon hums, amused but calm.

Juyeon, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Juyeon turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Juyeon was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Juyeon contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Juyeon, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Juyeon was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother.

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Juyeon crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Orindell's inability to control himself and his emotions."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort.

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too."

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Orindell and you?"

You nod although there is no 'Orindell and you'. There is only Orindell's foolishness and your reason.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew."

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was."

"It appears even time can't change that." Juyeon jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again.

"Have you heard any word from Peter?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Juyeon's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames.

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.”

“And…?” Juyeon asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.”

Juyeon sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now."

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.” You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Peter's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Peter to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Peter to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Avi, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Juyeon shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Peter decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Juyeon sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Juyeon's words. Peter is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Peter. Peter trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Peter grew, so did his skill. By the time Peter had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Peter as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Peter that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Peter is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Peter is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache."

Juyeon sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

“I hate to ask this—”

“Then don’t.”

“—but why did you send Peter to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Juyeon, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Juyeon. I struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Peter that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Peter before he took off.

Juyeon stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Juyeon quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Peter? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Juyeon emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Juyeon, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Juyeon mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room.

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jaehyun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jaehyun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jaehyun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jaehyun and Younghoon unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jaehyun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human.

Jaehyun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jaehyun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jaehyun can think of to describe you.

The King had sent a message to Jaehyun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jaehyun’s and Captain Younghoon’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jaehyun and Younghoon were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jaehyun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Younghoon, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jaehyun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King.

But now, as Jaehyun and Younghoon walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jaehyun, and Captain Younghoon." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jaehyun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace, if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Roen and Prince Orindell sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Peter's throne is empty. Jaehyun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Peter is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes.

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jaehyun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jaehyun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in.

Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jaehyun had imagined.

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them.

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Younghoon affirms, glancing at Jaehyun as if expecting him to say something, but Jaehyun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Younghoon says to cover Jaehyun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.”

“Yes.” You respond simply.

“If I may, where is Prince Peter? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Younghoon.” Then you pause. Jaehyun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Peter had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.”

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Younghoon says in an even but skeptical tone.

"Yes, Prince Peter is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Peter's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jaehyun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jaehyun suspects that Prince Peter has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jaehyun suspects something different. Prince Peter must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in.

Younghoon clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Seth, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jaehyun and Younghoon stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jaehyun barely hears it.

Younghoon tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jaehyun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jaehyun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon with steady eyes. “Lord Seth was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jaehyun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jaehyun and Younghoon can even comprehend what you just said.

***

Jaehyun waits for you and Younghoon in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought.

Jaehyun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jaehyun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained.

Jaehyun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jaehyun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jaehyun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Seth’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jaehyun wonders if Lord Seth was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands.

But then when Jaehyun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jaehyun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jaehyun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jaehyun’s attention your presence in the stables.

Jaehyun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.”

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jaehyun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jaehyun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jaehyun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear.

“Lord Jaehyun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jaehyun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jaehyun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jaehyun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.”

Jaehyun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jaehyun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy.

Jaehyun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder.

“We’re ready when you are Jaehyun,” Younghoon says, a laugh dancing under his words.

Jaehyun groans. “How much of that did you hear?”

Younghoon releases Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod.

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jaehyun questions, hurt that Younghoon seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?”

Younghoon’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jaehyun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jaehyun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Younghoon chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jaehyun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jaehyun is silent, taking his time to understand what Younghoon means. He returns his attention to his horse.

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jaehyun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Younghoon isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation.

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Orindell. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?”

Younghoon hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Orindell,” Younghoon clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jaehyun nods, listening half-heartedly to Younghoon for Jaehyun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles.

Eventually, Younghoon wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Younghoon can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jaehyun, Captain Younghoon, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south.

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Younghoon and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge.

The Zalazar River is now a blood red color. Younghoon comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites.

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly.

“What?” You breathe, and Jaehyun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Younghoon chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.”

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and blood red river a little less tensely.

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jaehyun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you. Jaehyun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.

You’re aware of the way Jaehyun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jaehyun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jaehyun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace.

You exhale sharply.

“Lord Jaehyun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Younghoon, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jaehyun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.”

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon nearly begging for their acceptance.

“I have a question,” Younghoon begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.”

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving.

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Younghoon exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets.

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother, Roe.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jaehyun notices.

“Are they as untraceable as they say?”

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.”

“You’re very lucky.” Younghoon tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jaehyun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long.

“I have a question.” Lord Jaehyun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Younghoon looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice.

“Jaehyun—“ Younghoon starts.

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust.

“What are your powers, Gift?”

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make.

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jaehyun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jaehyun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.”

Lord Jaehyun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?”

“No.”

“So you can die?”

“Yes.”

“By old age?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further.

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jaehyun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much.

--LORD JAEHYUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jaehyun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected.

You request to be taken straight to your quarters.

“You’re acting strange.” Younghoon mutters, watching Jaehyun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jaehyun and Younghoon at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend.

“How so?” Jaehyun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl.

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate earlier.”

“It’s not just that Jaehyun.” Younghoon adds, and Jaehyun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jaehyun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Younghoon sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.”

Jaehyun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Younghoon. Something about her unsettles me.”

Younghoon takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.”

Jaehyun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.”

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.”

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Younghoon.”

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?”

Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Younghoon shakes his head in frustration. “Jaehyun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.”

And with that Younghoon leaves from the dining room. Jaehyun finishes the rest of his dinner alone.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jaehyun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch.

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jaehyun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.”

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jaehyun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Younghoon put him up to it.

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.”

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jaehyun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path.

“Lord Jaehyun.”

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence.

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jaehyun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet.

“Younghoon gave me a very thorough tour this morning.”

Jaehyun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Younghoon is not the type to spare any details.”

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jaehyun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile.

“Lord Jaehyun,” you address softly, “did Younghoon put you up to this?”

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jaehyun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it.

“Thank you, Lord Jaehyun.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.”

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.”

Jaehyun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.”

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jaehyun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly.

You find yourself to be smiling too.

“Come on,” Jaehyun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.”

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jaehyun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you.

Jaehyun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed.

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Roen was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing.

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?”

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.”

Jaehyun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.”

“Oh Jaehyun, we have already bargained and made peace.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.”

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease.

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious.

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.”

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.”

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Roen that night.

Dear Roen, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jaehyun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jaehyun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest.

“Younghoon,” Jaehyun calls out. Younghoon tends to keep Jaehyun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jaehyun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Younghoon fast asleep. Jaehyun covers Younghoon with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done.

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jaehyun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known.

“Have you already finished your work Jaehyun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering.

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal.

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.”

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jaehyun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm.

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.”

Jaehyun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jaehyun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jaehyun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Younghoon.

“How do they work?” Jaehyun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?”

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jaehyun to stand up as well.

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.”

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jaehyun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jaehyun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds.

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.”

Jaehyun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jaehyun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jaehyun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jaehyun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock.

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.”

Jaehyun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales.

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.”

And Jaehyun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jaehyun runs to you immediately.

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard.

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jaehyun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jaehyun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain.

“So,” Jaehyun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug.

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?”

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jaehyun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.”

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Orindell misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun. -Roen

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“The service was long today.” Jaehyun states exiting the temple with Younghoon and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t think so.” Younghoon says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?”

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still.

“Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving.

Jaehyun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jaehyun and Younghoon can stop you.

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jaehyun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jaehyun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble.

The sanctuary Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jaehyun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jaehyun sick to the stomach.

But that’s not where Jaehyun finds you. Instead, Jaehyun and Younghoon find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jaehyun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jaehyun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jaehyun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries.

Jaehyun and Younghoon decide to wait for you outside.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Younghoon asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Younghoon were present today.

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Juyeon and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.”

Younghoon nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Younghoon’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?”

“I don’t—“

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Younghoon.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.”

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?”

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.”

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Younghoon go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.

It’s also the day that Younghoon reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Younghoon’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jaehyun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jaehyun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Younghoon laughs loudly and explains that Jaehyun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Younghoon’s job.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Younghoon to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jaehyun wave goodbye to Younghoon.

Jaehyun scoffs, side eyeing Younghoon’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.”

You laugh, and Jaehyun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jaehyun if anything more is needed. Jaehyun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jaehyun notices how you notice.

And when the servant girl leaves, Jaehyun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?”

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach.

“Vina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.”

Jaehyun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words.

“Smile less.”

Jaehyun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.”

Jaehyun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind.

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.”

“You could braid it.” Jaehyun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?”

Jaehyun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin.

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jaehyun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard.

“Would you like me to braid it for you?”

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jaehyun’s offer is genuine or not.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.”

Jaehyun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it.

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind.

“My sister, Insia, would make me braid her hair sometimes.”

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She’s illegitime. Technically, we both are. My father never married.”

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jaehyun finishes the braid off.

“She married an islander, gave up her ladyship to do so, and now lives there with him.” Jaehyun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Insia and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jaehyun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently.

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.”

And Jaehyun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jaehyun, but today Jaehyun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Peter and his impossible journey, to Juyeon and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Seth. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jaehyun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks.

So when Vina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Vina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction.

When you ask why Vina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Vina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jaehyun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Vina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little.

“Vina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jaehyun?”

Vina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jaehyun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Vina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.”

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jaehyun is.”

An embarrassed smile emerges on Vina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.”

You erupt in laughter.

***

If you knew Vina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jaehyun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jaehyun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly.

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow.

To your dismay, Jaehyun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jaehyun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jaehyun himself, your wish is granted.

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it.

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jaehyun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile.

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jaehyun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?”

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?”

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to.

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jaehyun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.”

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jaehyun’s face. “What was that?”

A giggling Jaehyun cowers behind the target and runs.

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Peter being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Seth’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories. It appears that the fog is driving you mad.

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Roen you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Orindell didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside Roe, their mother and your dearest friend, and when Roe passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Orindell could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Orindell, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Roen and Peter. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Orindell loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room.

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks.

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jaehyun’s estate by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Vina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself.

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind.

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to.

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jaehyun.

“Jaehyun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?”

He shakes his head. “Younghoon calls this spot the insomniac's bed.”

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly.

You wait for Jaehyun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.”

“Yes, but what about this cliff?”

Jaehyun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.”

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.”

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further.

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years.

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Avi died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured.

You study Jaehyun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jaehyun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jaehyun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jaehyun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jaehyun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Peter,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.”

And with the way Jaehyun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him.

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jaehyun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.”

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?”

“Depends.”

Jaehyun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jaehyun.”

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jaehyun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways.

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.”

“So then why don’t you?”

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jaehyun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old.

“Good night, Jaehyun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.”

***

Dear Roen, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Peter too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Orindell that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jaehyun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jaehyun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it.

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says softly.

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.”

“Six?” Jaehyun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.”

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jaehyun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.”

You squint at him.

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?”

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.”

Jaehyun starts pulling his shoes off.

“Well,” Jaehyun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jaehyun nods, and

you run.

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jaehyun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jaehyun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jaehyun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it.

Jaehyun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jaehyun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you.

When you finally reach the top, Jaehyun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist.

Jaehyun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jaehyun back. Insia used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jaehyun had convinced himself he was. Jaehyun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jaehyun would spend years staring at the blue water.

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jaehyun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you.

You meet his eyes, and Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries.

Jaehyun hesitates.

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?”

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jaehyun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jaehyun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jaehyun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jaehyun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling.

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Sunwoo, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.”

Jaehyun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jaehyun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude.

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold.

“Forgive me if I intruded.”

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.”

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?”

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.”

Jaehyun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jaehyun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jaehyun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jaehyun wants to know.

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do.

You tell Jaehyun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen Raffa who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Sunwoo and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself.

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jaehyun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.

“Where’d they take you?”

You halt at Jaehyun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.”

Jaehyun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have.

“Did you get to see your family again?”

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.”

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jaehyun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jaehyun to even hear.

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Sunwoo and later Avi too.” You tell Jaehyun with a smile. “By the time Sunwoo and I became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. Raffa went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Sunwoo and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “Raffa was killed.”

Jaehyun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Avi, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue.

“Is that why you switched sides?”

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Sunwoo had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Avi struck me a deal. Avi said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Sunwoo.”

You stop to breathe. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jaehyun thinks it’s wrong, what King Avi did. Jaehyun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jaehyun’s thinking.

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Avi wasn’t much older than me. Avi watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Avi was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 13. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Sunwoo take his dying breath.”

Through the memories you share with him, Jaehyun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jaehyun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war.

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jaehyun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.”

Jaehyun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know?

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jaehyun can’t trust himself to look at you.

You’re quiet.

“I regret it all.”

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jaehyun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret.

The small part of Jaehyun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jaehyun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him.

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jaehyun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 13 when this all happened.

“Fortitude,” Jaehyun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.”

Jaehyun can see something in you come apart. Jaehyun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes.

And when Jaehyun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jaehyun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current.

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jaehyun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?”

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jaehyun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.”

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jaehyun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Avi didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

Jaehyun halts. “It was King Avi?” He questions in disbelief, remembering the mysterious burnings of all the libraries in the kingdom except for the one residing in the Golden Palace. “King Avi was the one who set fires to the libraries?”

“Oh, right,” you sigh, “I forgot that was a secret.” And in the next moment, you’re nearly laughing. “You know Jaehyun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.”

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jaehyun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jaehyun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jaehyun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind.

“Sunwoo?”

Jaehyun nods, and you look up to the sky.

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jaehyun tastes the salt on his lips.

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jaehyun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner.

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Vina brings out plates with your meals.

“I am, thank you Jaehyun.” You take a bite of your food.

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?”

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jaehyun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jaehyun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after.

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jaehyun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.

“Jaehyun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jaehyun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.”

Jaehyun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright Jaehyun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.”

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jaehyun watches you go.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Younghoon finally returns to Jaehyun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Vina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you.

Later that day, you and Younghoon ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Younghoon’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jaehyun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh.

“He tends to get very…” Younghoon trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.”

“Thank you, Younghoon.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

“How do you mean?”

“I heard you were close to Jaehyun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jaehyun I worry about.”

“And who’s here to worry about you?”

Younghoon sighs. “Thank you for the concern.”

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Younghoon spends the entire day in his room and Jaehyun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too.

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Roen.

“Come in.”

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.”

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon.”

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Vina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Vina. “Lord Jaehyun requested that you attend the service as well.”

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted.

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jaehyun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Younghoon.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jaehyun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jaehyun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you”

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”

Jaehyun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Younghoon appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Vina, head to the temple in a solemn silence.

The temple is a sea of red. Younghoon whispers to you that Jaehyun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service.

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord.

You inhale.

You watch as Jaehyun and Younghoon throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Vina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone.

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jaehyun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jaehyun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break.

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss.

Jaehyun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jaehyun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so.

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother, Roe. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Orindell had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Peter and Roen were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears.

Before Roe, the last funeral you can remember attending was Avi’s, the young king who understood your grief and more importantly your guilt. But unlike the princes’ mother, who left an entire family behind, Avi had no living relatives. At his funeral, not a single log was thrown. For so long it had been you and Avi against the world, so when Avi died, it left you feeling inexplicably alone.

You had burned a fire for Avi, and you had burned a fire Roe. But you never even lit a match for Sunwoo; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father.

Jaehyun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the Roe, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Avi, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Sunwoo who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Seth and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn.

You forget Jaehyun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Peter, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Peter.

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Younghoon came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jaehyun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Younghoon’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jaehyun’s absence like a gaping hole, you feel it greatly.

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud.

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down.

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Peter received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment.

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries.

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Younghoon’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jaehyun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun the truth; the truth you owe them.

“Did Peter respond to your Risal?” Jaehyun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no.

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jaehyun and Younghoon share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Peter was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run.

You recall to Jaehyun and Younghoon the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Peter came to you sad and betrayed and alone.

“This isn’t right,” Peter muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Peter had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Roen joined these meetings. Then Orindell did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Peter sat with you. Roen was on a northern campaign, and Orindell travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless.

“He can’t do this,” Peter had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.”

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down.

“Prince Peter, what are you suggesting?”

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Peter,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea.

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Peter slammed his hand down on the table.

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Peter’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?”

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Peter’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father.

“We kept it a secret, Peter and I,” you continue. Jaehyun and Younghoon listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Juyeon. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Peter so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Peter and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Peter and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad.

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Peter. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Peter got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Peter came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King.

It’s Younghoon who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Peter?”

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.”

Jaehyun chokes on his water.

You continue on with the story, unbothered.

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Peter go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Seth with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Seth was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jaehyun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Seth was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—”

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt.

Jaehyun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength.

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold.

“So that’s why Peter was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Younghoon and Jaehyun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget.

It’s Younghoon who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Roen and Prince Orindell the truth too.”

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.”

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jaehyun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Peter to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Juyeon, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jaehyun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jaehyun asks, you know.

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.”

Jaehyun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Avi and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones.

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Peter to them?

The dinner ends abruptly when Younghoon stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jaehyun do the same soon after.

You write to Roen that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Peter, the experiments, Lord Seth, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Roen to extend this information to Orindell as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers.

The response from Roen comes a few days later.

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Seth. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Orindell and I, we already knew. Peter told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Roen

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Orindell around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Peter. And setting silly traps for Roen. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Peter told them the truth. And you’re glad he did.

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair. Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jaehyun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not.

“It must be hard,” you say as Jaehyun sections your hair into three parts, “for Younghoon to spend so much time away from his family.”

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck.

“Yes, it must.”

The next day Jaehyun tells Younghoon to go back home.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Younghoon laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely.

“Go home, Younghoon.” Jaehyun insists. “Paid leave.”

Younghoon packs up his things that very night.

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Roen, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Peter. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Younghoon left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jaehyun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Younghoon everything. Jaehyun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof.

He hates the quiet.

“Lord Jaehyun! Come quick!” Vina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jaehyun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.”

Jaehyun runs.

He runs past Vina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs.

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jaehyun’s heart stops.

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jaehyun and Vina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.”

“Lady Gift!” Vina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“

Jaehyun puts a hand on Vina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop.

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jaehyun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?”

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond.

Jaehyun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.”

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Vina stiffen beside him.

“Lord Jaehyun, what are you doing?” Vina asks frantically.

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean.

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong.

“Jaehyun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not.

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear.

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.”

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed.

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.”

You smirk. Then disappear from Jaehyun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump.

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall.

Jaehyun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jaehyun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jaehyun watches. Amazed.

It’s when Vina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water.

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath.

And dives.

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jaehyun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up.

But Jaehyun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Vina pulls you both out of the water. And Jaehyun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jaehyun falls into the sand beside you.

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Vina says scurrying away in the sand.

Jaehyun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted.

“It looked like you were dying,” Jaehyun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?”

“I don’t want to die, Jaehyun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?”

You shake your head.

“Then what?”

“I wanted to feel mortal.”

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.”

Jaehyun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.”

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jaehyun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jaehyun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry.

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jaehyun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jaehyun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not.

Jaehyun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish.

Jaehyun extends everything he knows to you.

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jaehyun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jaehyun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jaehyun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time.

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jaehyun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean.

***

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jaehyun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Younghoon asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.”

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.”

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display.

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.”

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “How so?”

You hesitate, looking at Jaehyun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.”

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jaehyun feels suddenly warm.

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Is it?”

Jaehyun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jaehyun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jaehyun.

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?”

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Avi died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…”

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end.

This time the tapping comes from Jaehyun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?”

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jaehyun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Avi died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jaehyun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face.

“I remember the fire that was lit for Avi, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met Roe.”

You pause, and in the silence Jaehyun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat.

“I’m scared, Jaehyun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jaehyun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Younghoon, Juyeon, Peter, Roen, Orindell; hell even Vina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jaehyun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn.

“Oh how happy Younghoon will be to hear all this.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.”

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away.

“And Jaehyun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.”

Jaehyun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning.

***

Jaehyun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive.

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other.

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?”

“Perhaps.”

Jaehyun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Juyeon?” Jaehyun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jaehyun are sitting in the courtyard.

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap.

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?”

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jaehyun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly.

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want.

You read and then reread the letter from Orindell. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jaehyun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Orindell, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Orindell never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Orindell; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Orindell climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Orindell is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.

“Is something wrong?” Jaehyun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Orindell’s heart in your bags.”

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back.

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Orindell then?” The question sounds hopeful.

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Orindell is like a child to me.”

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jaehyun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?”

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Orindell since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Younghoon by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Orindell still acts like a child.” Jaehyun smiles at that.

“Oddly enough,” Jaehyun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.”

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Orindell’s apology. Something in your mind clicks.

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Orindell. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Orindell can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jaehyun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jaehyun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.”

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Orindell, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jaehyun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.”

You repeat it in your mind.

He doesn’t want to lose you either.

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Orindell’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Orindell feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Orindell must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself.

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept.

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms.

***

That night you send a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Orindell.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Orindell.

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Insia?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jaehyun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.”

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?”

***

The boat ride to the island Insia lives on is pleasant. Jaehyun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Insia, and you listen to Jaehyun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jaehyun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Insia’s children and then some more for yourselves.

By late afternoon they reach Insia and her husband Cyrin’s house. Jaehyun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters.

“Hold on,” Jaehyun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.”

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible.

The sea.

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jaehyun feels at home despite being hours away from it.

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jaehyun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jaehyun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more.

“Uncle Jaehyun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jaehyun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug.

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jaehyun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jaehyun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.”

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jaehyun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand.

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jaehyun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jaehyun clutches his stomach in laughter.

“Jaehyun!” Insia yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!”

“You’re torturing them Insia!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.”

Insia scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jaehyun into a hug.

Jaehyun leads Insia to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Insia resposds that she’s napping and that Cyrin’s watching her.

You stand up to greet Insia.

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.”

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.”

“Well, in that case,” Insia coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jaehyun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.”

***

Insia, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Insia begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jaehyun and Cyrin are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Cyrin puts up the cards while Jaehyun watches you and Insia converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jaehyun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably.

“Jaehyun, you must stay here longer.” Cyrin insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.”

Jaehyun hesitates. “I don’t know. Younghoon is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.”

“Oh please,” Insia dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Younghoon sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.”

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jaehyun. I had no idea.” Jaehyun dismisses the apology.

Cyrin and Insia share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Insia scoffs, turning dramatically to you.

“Would you mind humouring Cyrin with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jaehyun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Younghoon and you went. Jaehyun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing.

“I’m no joke.” Cyrin defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.”

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Cyrin takes it eagerly.

Jaehyun likes this. How you tease Cyrin. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence.

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Cyrin yelps in shock, and Insia hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jaehyun, and the two of you share a look of your own.

And through the silent conversation, Jaehyun knows. Younghoon would have to wait a bit longer for your return.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Younghoon telling him that you and Jaehyun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jaehyun I said happy birthday. You do.

Later that day, Insia requests you and Jaehyun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night.

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jaehyun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand.

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once.

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jaehyun. Jaehyun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb.

But then Jaehyun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue.

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jaehyun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jaehyun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Insia and Cyrin seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jaehyun happy as well.

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jaehyun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Insia’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jaehyun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat.

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Here.” Jaehyun hands you the extra coat.

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?”

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.”

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time.

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jaehyun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.”

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jaehyun not telling you was an insult. Jaehyun positions himself closer.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible.

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jaehyun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Insia and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jaehyun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jaehyun comes to realize that what you tell him now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jaehyun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to.

He stares at you, frozen. And Jaehyun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Sunwoo, Avi, your parents, Roe. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured.

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Younghoon, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.”

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jaehyun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips.

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jaehyun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do.

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jaehyun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jaehyun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jaehyun’s restless heart.

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jaehyun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jaehyun’s coat.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jaehyun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jaehyun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further.

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jaehyun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Insia announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jaehyun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Insia who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed.

“How about this?” Insia offers holding up a red dress.

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“For Jaehyun.” Insia says it blandly.

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jaehyun?” You echo.

“Nevermind then,” Insia sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jaehyun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Insia leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jaehyun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jaehyun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness.

The bodice of the dress Insia brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways.

Insia was right. Jaehyun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?”

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Insia lent it to me for the night.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jaehyun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jaehyun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t?

The dinner is a feast like Insia had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jaehyun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jaehyun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jaehyun follow you out.

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up.

“Please, Jaehyun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back.

“No. Tell me what’s happened.”

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.”

You push your door open, and Jaehyun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jaehyun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jaehyun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near.

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Insia’s red dress in your hands.

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jaehyun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound.

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.”

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of.

Jaehyun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jaehyun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jaehyun’s voice.

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.”

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jaehyun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jaehyun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love.

You fling your hand out of Jaehyun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jaehyun.

And suddenly, Jaehyun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jaehyun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently.

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jaehyun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder.

“Leave me be, Jaehyun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jaehyun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jaehyun shuts the door quietly.

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jaehyun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well.

***

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head.

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jaehyun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops.

Dear Jaehyun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either. But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please. -Jaehyun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Avi. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jaehyun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind.

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jaehyun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him.

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jaehyun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jaehyun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jaehyun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jaehyun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jaehyun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body.

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jaehyun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jaehyun again, really look at Jaehyun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jaehyun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jaehyun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do.

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jaehyun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything.

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jaehyun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now.

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jaehyun’s face.

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jaehyun.

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips.

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?”

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jaehyun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home.

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jaehyun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Younghoon. He nods, turning to you.

“And how about you, what do you miss?”

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jaehyun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jaehyun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jaehyun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jaehyun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water.

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jaehyun counts the seconds. One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four.

Five. (He kisses you) Six.

You return to the estate finally, greeting Younghoon drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jaehyun return from Insia and Cyrin’s home that you and Younghoon fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jaehyun. And when you told Younghoon at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well.

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jaehyun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Younghoon attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Younghoon is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Younghoon would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Younghoon gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Younghoon in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Younghoon for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jaehyun to watch.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jaehyun. Jaehyun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Younghoon catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves.

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jaehyun must do work in his office, Younghoon and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Roen and Orindell and another unanswered one to Peter.

You and Younghoon continue training without Jaehyun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jaehyun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jaehyun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Younghoon, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight.

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Vina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jaehyun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy.

The happiest you look, however, is when Vina asks you to teach her something. You make Vina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jaehyun mentions this, you deny it telling Jaehyun it’s only because you taught Juyeon and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Vina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jaehyun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jaehyun has never been so happy.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Orindell.

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Roen and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Roen fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Peter soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Peter as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Juyeon and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jaehyun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Juyeon a punch for me. - Orindell

You think a visit from Juyeon might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Younghoon and Jaehyun.

***

You’re in the kitchen with Vina eating fruit when Juyeon arrives.

“He’s here.” Jaehyun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jaehyun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods.

So you grab his hand and run.

The first thing you do when you see Juyeon is punch him, as hard as Orindell would.

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?”

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Orindell.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.”

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Juyeon some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk.

“How long are you staying?”

Juyeon sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.”

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.”

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Juyeon says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Orindell told me you two made peace.”

“We did.” You hum with a smile.

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Juyeon tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jaehyun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jaehyun, Younghoon, Vina, Insia, Cyrin, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Juyeon the specifics.

Juyeon listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jaehyun?”

Your mouth drops, and you look at Juyeon shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.”

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.”

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Juyeon happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Juyeon.”

He stops in his tracks. “Really?”

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Younghoon and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response.

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.”

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Juyeon jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight.

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Juyeon laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jaehyun, Younghoon, mina, the guards, Juyeon’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Juyeon, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Juyeon is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Juyeon will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Younghoon, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything.

You circle each other for a second, and when Juyeon does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Juyeon is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Juyeon is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Juyeon the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back.

“Surrender.” You pant.

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.”

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Juyeon all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Seth’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Peter the night before he left?”

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Peter that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh.

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember.

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?”

“Peter told Roen and Orindell before he left. Orindell told me. We all had questions for you. But Roen was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Orindell weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?”

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jaehyun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Peter that night?”

You look at Jaehyun. Then Younghoon. Then Juyeon; he nods. All three watch you carefully.

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin”

Jaehyun and Younghoon look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel.

Juyeon starts laughing at the madness of it all.

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Avi, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Peter.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Younghoon, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Peter. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Peter find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Juyeon have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings.

“What is that?”

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.”

“No, no. It’s a drawing.”

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.”

The three boys share a look.

“What do you mean you think?”

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?”

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Peter.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Peter will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky.

Juyeon shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jaehyun. Weaker than after your fight with Juyeon. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory.

You fall to your knees, Jaehyun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Younghoon who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jaehyun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jaehyun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jaehyun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Vina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jaehyun. But last night was nothing like what Jaehyun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jaehyun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jaehyun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jaehyun tries to think of something else.

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jaehyun asks if you’re feeling any better.

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed.

Jaehyun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Peter?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jaehyun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away.

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jaehyun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jaehyun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Peter, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently.

Dear Fortitude, Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near. -Peter

“What’s it say?” Jaehyun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself.

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.”

“Jaehyun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds.

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.”

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?”

“I hate to say it, but you—“

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.”

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Peter’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Juyeon’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Peter castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jaehyun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea.

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jaehyun.

But you pack your bags instead, send Peter a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jaehyun and Younghoon that night. You and Juyeon would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jaehyun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Juyeon’s squadron and needing to catch up to you.

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jaehyun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jaehyun realize he’s crying. Juyeon leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy.

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.”

“All the more reason not to, Jaehyun.”

He squeezes his arms around you.

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely.

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—”

“Tell me something to make me hate you.”

“—I can’t.”

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jaehyun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jaehyun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other.

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.”

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jaehyun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over.

“I’ll come back, Jaehyun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.”

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.”

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jaehyun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i feel a little odd and scared to be reposting this piece... again. but i’ve been flirting with the idea of reposting it for tbz for too long for me to not lol. also i didn’t edit or proofread this very thoroughly so if the names got mixed up somewhere within this monster then thats why my bad

#the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenarios #the boyz x reader #hyunjae x reader #lee jaehyun scenarios #lee jaehyun x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae angst #hyunjae fluff #tbz scenarios #mine #the sea is yours to take

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Chapter 7

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

The grey man was dead.

The grey man looked like he had been dead for some time.

What little skin he had remaining hung loosely from the bone. The eye sockets were empty, the patches of remaining hair were stringy and dirty. The skull had caved in around the crossbow bolt, revealing an awful wriggling mass of maggots on the inside. The stench of rotting flesh, which Roman had only been able to smell up close before, now filed the room, making him gag.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, wishing desperately for whatever glamour had made it so hard to see the details of the grey man’s face to return. He griped Mittens’ soft fur tightly with his good hand, earning him a disgruntled meow.

“What the fuck.” A voice muttered.

Unseen by Roman, a figure emerged from the doorway. One with skin bleached white under the lamp light and eyes that seemed to glow an unnatural shade of violet. Most of him was hidden under a dark cloak, save for the fearsome looking crossbow he held at his hip.

Had there been anyone left to see, Virgil would no doubt have made an intimidating sight. At least until he reached out one foot to poke at the grey man's body and recoiled with an undignified ‘eeeeeew!’ when the flesh gave way easily under the pressure.

Virgil had served more years then he cared to remember in the Finaley’ed army. He had seen many dead bodies. That did not make it any better to hear one squelch.

“Okay.” He called, “Okay, the coast is clear and I shot a dead guy.”

Roman heard a second pair of footsteps approaching before a new voice asked: “Did you retrieve the bolt?”

“The bolt that is covered in maggots? No. No I did not.”

“That’s a waste of resources.”

“That is not my main problem with the corpse in the basement Loga- no don’t touch it!”

“This looks like several months of decay- but there’s no surrounding detritus – do you think they moved it here? For what purpose?”

“I don’t care! Maybe it’s just…some, some unlucky bath house guy that got left down here. Who knows! Just help me find the damm cat.”

“Ah yes,” Roman could hear the disdain in Logan’s voice, “The magic cat.”

On the ground, obscured from their view by the network of pipes, Roman kept his eyes firmly shut. So long as his eyes were shut, he was listening to Logan and Virgil’s bickering and was seconds away from rescue.

But what if he opened his eyes and they weren’t there?

Julius had been found of testing his curses’ limits in this area. He would order Romulus to ‘see’ imaginary monsters in the shadows and then have him describe them. Or to recount conversations that never happened. Or to forget ones that had. None of this research had ever been particularly successful - he couldn’t be ordered to alter reality, even in the privacy of his own head – but Julius had never quite given up on it.

What if he had found a way to make it work?

Roman could hear his own heartbeat, the fast paced thump melding with the rush of water in the pipes that surrounded him, making his head throb and his whole body tremble.

What if it wasn’t Virgil and Logan there at all? What if it was Niki and Marcus back again, or Lucius himself, or no one at all?

What if it wasn’t even Julius doing it, just his own pain-addled mind playing tricks on him?

Romulus bit back a whimper, squeezing his arms tight around his middle.

This was too much for Mittens, who let out a yowl of protest and wriggled out of Roman’s grip.

“Oh!” He gasped, eyes flying open “Sorry!”

Mittens ignored his apology, scampering away through the open door and disappearing into the gloom of the corridor. There was a shout, a sudden rush of footsteps and a loud clang followed by a short curse as someone tripped on one of the pipes running along the floor.

And then two men were standing over him. Twin expression of relief morphing quickly into concern.

Virgil swallowed hard, the healers eyes flicking rapidly over each visible injury before meeting Roman’s own.

“Hey there Princy.” Virgil said softly.

***

The journey back through the corridors was a lot slower than their journey in. At least Logan had managed to retrieve one of the lanterns from the maintenance room so he was no longer relying on clinging to the back of Virgil’s cape to navigate.

When they had initially followed the….cat….to the bathhouse they’d thought their luck was beginning to change. It was coronation day, all businesses were closed; it should have been an easy matter to sneak in. When Virgil had scaled the opposing buildings for some roof top reconnaissance however he had come back grim faced – the upper floors were full of soldiers.

The design on their uniform matched the symbol Lucy had drawn the night before, and that Logan had identified in the library that morning. It belonged to the house of Orenlla in Notaleveale. It was not three ‘Vs’ as Lucy had thought, but a stylised version of the three largest peaks on the Sarindu mountain range, which marked the border between Notaleveale and the middle kingdoms. The man she had seen had apparently been wearing his clasp upside down.

Despite his success, Logan had left the library disappointed. Ornella was a noble house in Notaleveale but not one significant enough to warrant a permanent residence in the middle kingdom city of Steveange. It was surely possible to find out where the contingent were staying – the townsfolk seemingly obsessed with the movement of the visiting nobility- but the librarians he spoke to all gave different suggestions, if any at all. Checking every possible address was going to take days.

As desperate as Logan had been feeling, at least he didn’t return to the meeting point with a cat.

Patton had gone to see the crone – or ‘Mama Tay’, as she apparently insisted Patton call her - who had no new information as to where Roman had gone or why he had left, but who had offered to help find him anyway.

Using her cat.

(“I don’t like it.” Virgil said.

“Thank you Virgil.” Logan said, relived to find at least one of his companions hadn’t lost their minds.

“It’s blood magic”

“It’s a CAT!”)

Apparently, when Mittens had scratched Roman at the crone’s – Mama Tay’s – house, it had collected enough blood for a simple locator spell. And Patton, bless him, had agreed to swap a bushel of fresh food from the market for an hours use of the magical bard seeking cat.

Logan had despaired.

Logan wasn’t quite ready to eat his words (dogs could be trained to track blood scents couldn’t they? Why not a cat? There was a reasonable explanation somewhere, surely) but even he had to admit, Mittens had been a lot more successful than any of them.

After Virgil had returned from the rooftop shaking his head, Mittens had meowed piteously until they followed him to a side street, where thin slits set at ground level vented hot air from the bathhouse basement. The cat had slipped in easily, and after a few minutes debate, Logan and Virgil had wiggled their way in after.

They’d used a rope to reach the ground, finding themselves at the base of a set of stairs. There was a soft glow at the top, presumably the main floor of the house, enough to illuminate Mittens’ tail as he trotted off deeper into the basement.

It was only Virgil’s night vision that prevented them from breaking their necks on the next set of stairs, but eventually they had made their way to the a well-lit and uncomfortably warm maintenance room.

And to Roman.

An injured Roman. A glassy-eyed Roman who could barely stand and started shivering as soon as they left the heat of the room.

“He’s going into shock.” Virgil muttered, fixing his cape around Roman’s shoulders. He pulled it tight, wrapping the ends securely, but making Roman whimper in pain. Not knowing what to do, Logan just held the lantern higher. It illuminated the cut on Roman’s sallow face, and the bruises that surrounded it. Bruises which continued over his shoulders and no doubt down his back. Logan had seen the stick, lying next to the corpse, it’s end strained with blood from where the skin had split.

Stupidly, he wished he’d taken the time to break it into a hundred little pieces.

When they reached the first set of stairs, they paused to let Roman catch his breath. His breathing was shallow and he slumped heavily against Logan’s side.

Logan had once watched Roman hop on one foot for almost a mile rather than swallow his pride and admit he needed help. Logan exchanged a glance with Virgil, not bothering to keep the panic from his face.

Virgil let out a long exhale an reached over to squeeze Logan’s shoulder reassuringly, shifting himself to take some of the bard’s weight.

“He’s not going to be able to climb out the way we came in.” Virgil murmured.

“Obviously.” Logan nodded.

That was okay. They had a plan B.

As if on cue, a distant roar rang out above them, followed by quite a lot of screaming.

“Issat Patton?” Roman asked, staring into the darkness with unfocused eyes.

“Mmhmm”, Virgil leaned over and pushed some of Roman’s damp hair away from his face. “He was meant to come get us if we weren’t out in twenty minutes. I think he’s early.”

“There’s at les’ a dozen of ‘em.” Roman slurred “Niki said.”

“Patton can handle it.” Virgil said firmly, though his eyes flickered to the ceiling, betraying his nervousness. “Can you walk?”

Roman nodded, though he needed both their help to actually manage it. It was painfully slow going, with Roman unsuccessfully trying to hide a wince of pain with each step.

The first flight of stairs was relatively short, but by the time they had reached the top Roman’s shaking was so bad it was making Logan’s own teeth rattle. Still, they pressed on, almost dragging the bard between them to the base of the much larger set of stairs that would take them to street level.

Here the noises from the floor above were much louder – the clash of steel on steel reverberating down the stairs.

Logan stared at the next obstacle, uncertain. There were what amounted to five flights, with a small flat platform at each turning point. There was a banister running each side of the stairs, but it was missing in several places. What was there didn’t look like it would hold much weight.

Above them, there was an enormous crash followed by a bellow of almost inhuman rage.

“Frog mode?” Roman asked drowsily.

“Frog mode.” Virgil said grimly.

The berserkers of Krutova painted their faces with the green and blue mud from the rivers and swamps that saturated their forest home. Legend said they could lie in wait for hours, hidden under the water, using hollow reeds to breath before leaping out on unsuspecting enemies with a monstrous frenzied rage, dragging their opponents to a watery grave – assuming they didn’t, quite literally, rip them apart first.

Logan had never seen Patton paint his face. And the big man did not like to talk about his time at war. But Logan had seen him fight off more than a dozen men in a bar brawl without breaking a sweat. He’d once seen him wrestle a wild boar just for fun.

Still. The men upstairs were trained guardsmen, not drunks. And they were armed. And it had only been a small boar.

Virgil was clearly having similar thoughts, his fingers twitching against his side, his eyes constantly flickering up and then back towards Logan and Roman. .

“Go.” Logan said, “We’ll follow you.”

Virgil hesitated, but Roman nodded, straightening up as much as he could “We’ll be righ’ behin’ you. Go help dad.”

Virgil dithered a moment more and then let out all his breath in a rush, reaching for the crossbow strapped to his back.

“Okay just. Go slow. We’ll come get you when the coast is clear.” he waited until they both nodded before turning and all but leaping up the stairs. Roman held his pose until he was out of sight and then collapsed once more against Logan’s side.

The scholar adjusted his grp on the lantern, and hooked his other arm over Roman’s back. With a grunt of effort, the bard managed to sling his left arm over Logan’s shoulder, leaving his uninjured hand free to grip the rickety banister. Logan squeezed, holding him tightly. Roman groaned as he pressed against the bruises and welts that coated his back but Logan held firm.

“One step at a time.” the younger man said softly. “Okay?”

Panting, Roman nodded, giving Logan a sickly lopsided grin.

The staircase spiralled five times before reaching the top floor. They made it round twice before trouble found them.

“You.” The man growled.

The man standing between them and freedom was generically handsome, with large eyes and a strong jaw. He had a passing resemblance to Roman; with the same dark reddish brown hair and tanned skin. He wore a doublet of pink and navy, with the three peaked mountains embroidered in gold thread.

“Luc’-“ Roman gasped out, “don’t-“

“Shut up!” the Marquis de Orenlla snapped. He held a wicked looking dagger in one hand, eyes ablaze. “Is there no end to your duplicity? You foul traitor, I should have you hanged!“

Also like Roman, he seemed to favour being loud over being coherent.

With a grunt, Roman removed his injured arm from Logan’s shoulder and clung to the banister.

“Go!” he shouted to Logan.

Logan spared him an exasperated glance and threw the lantern at the Marquis head.

He went down with a screech, rolling back and forth on the small platform to put the flames dancing on his embroidery. The dagger skirted away and over the edge of the platform.

“You go.” Logan snapped at Roman, pulling out his sword and stepping between the two men.

Technically it was Roman’s sword, the one he had left behind in the inn. But Logan has been taking their training sessions seriously and it felt comfortable in his hands. He pointed the blade a the Marquis throat, effectively pinning him to the ground.

“Wow!” Roman laughed and lent to the side to grin at the flabbergasted noble “I trained him.” he said smugly.

“Hurry up!” Logan hissed and to his great relief, Roman did so, inching his way behind Logan and starting up the next flight of stairs.

“Stop.” The Marquis croaked out.

Roman stopped.

Logan turned towards him, frustrated “Roman, I’ve got this – just keep-“

Later, Logan would blame the stress of the situation for just why he chose to turn away from his prisoner at that precise moment.

Before he had chance to process what was happening, he was falling. Pain rippling through his ankle from a well placed kick from the Marquis. He dropped the heavy sword almost immediately, only for it to be snatched up by the larger man.

Logan felt himself being dragged through the air, and all at once he was pinned against the Marquis chest, sword now held at his own neck.

He saw Roman start back down the stairs towards them and felt the Marquis’ hot breath against his ear as he shouted: “Stop!”

Roman stopped. One foot frozen in the air, he lost his balance almost immediately and toppled to the side, reaching out instinctively to grab the banister with his injured hand, letting out a howl of pain.

The Marquis shuffled backwards, dragging Logan with him, dangerously close to the edge of the platform.

“I’m serious, Romulus.” the Marquis growled. “Not one more step. Or your friend here is going to be even shorter.”

“I'm average height.” Logan muttered sullenly.

The Marquis snorted in his ear. “Where? In the Dwarf kingdom?”

“Lucius!” Roman whimpered, he was hunched over, cradling his bad arm to his chest. “Please – he’s just a kid!”

“I am only three years younger than you!” Logan cried indignantly.

“Oh right.” Roman muttered. “My bad.” And then Roman straightened up. He hadn’t been cradling his arm at all – he’d been working something out of his tunic.

Roman’s dagger, a dull pointless object in desperate need of replacement, came hurtling towards them.

The Marquis let out a shout and instinctively raised the sword to bat the dagger away. Logan took the opportunity to wrench out of his grip, blindly kicking out behind him as he did so.

His foot made satisfying contact with the Marquis’ knee, sending him toppling off the platform, a resounding series of crashes and shouts echoing through the chamber as he bounced down the stairs.

Logan hurried towards Roman as fast as he could, not bothering to turn around and see how far the Marquis had fallen.

“Can you move?” he asked breathlessly.

“I don’t think so.” Roman admitted from his prone position at the base of the steps. Logan bit back a wail of frustration. Roman truly looked done in, his eyes battling to stay open, and there was no way Logan was going to be able to carry him up the-

“Logan? Roman?”

Logan hadn’t been to a city temple since he left his apprenticeship. He had no particular interest in the Gods or their silly squabbles. But the sight of Patton - working his way towards them with his clothing torn and face splattered with blood that wasn’t his own – well. Logan was fairly certain he could pass for an angel.

“You’re safe now.” Logan whispered, although he had no proof of the long term truth of that statement, “go to sleep Roman.”

Roman did as he was told.

Part 8

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #cretivitwins #i wasnt planning to get another chapter up so quick but im gonna have other things to focus on this weeek and aaaaah i just wanted to write #the rescue scene #EVERYONE IN THIS UNIVERSE IS A DISASTER BUT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER A LOT SO ITS OKAY #sidespart writes #ts: fall of romulus

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 16~

Warning!! This chapter contains attempted murder and strong language

Chapter 15

--------Part 1--------

Yoshitsune: “First of all, I apologize because we assume that you might be in danger.”

Yoshino: “Danger...?”

One morning, Yoshitsune-sama visits my room and his first words made me blink.

Yoshino: “Why am I in danger?”

Kurama was also sitting next to Yoshitsune-sama, and he opens his mouth casually.

Kurama: “I’m told there are people in this mansion who wants to assassinate you.”

(Ehhh....)

I felt the blood draining from my face.

Yoshitsune: “Our army is being reinforced in preparation for the first war against the Shogunate. Not a few of the new recruits had a grudge against the Shogunate for one reason or another.”

Yoshino: “But why would they want to kill me...?”

Yoshitsune: “It’s still unconfirmed but Yoichi is working on it. Until this matter is settled, I want you to stay in this room, just in case.”

Yoshino: “....Okay.”

My voice trembled when I replied.

(I was prepared to put myself in danger on the battlefield one day.)

(But I never thought I’d see the day when my life would be directly threatened in this way.)

(No matter how kind Yoshitsune-sama and the others are....my presence is not interesting to the soldiers of the Rebels)

My fingertips are as cold as if they were immersed in ice water.

Kurama: “Why are you trembling?”

(Kurama...)

Yoshino: “No, no no, I was just surprised. But I’m fine.”

Kurama frowned when he saw me forcing a smile.

Kurama: “......... Take this.”

(Hm?)

I took what was offered to me and it was a whistleblower.

Yoshino: “What’s this for?”

Kurama: “It’s got my spell on it. In this big mansion, I’d be able to hear it from anywhere.”

(Wow! That’s amazing!)

Kurama: “I want you to use it.”

--------Part 2---------

Kurama: “I want you to use it.”

I was stunned when he looked straight at me.

(I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts since that night in the garden with Kurama....)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I’ll do my best.

2. I’ll take good care of it.

3. That’s reassuring.(+4/+4)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: “That’s reassuring.”

Kurama: “I’m giving you that this time because it’s special. I don’t like to be treated as a shikigami used by humans.”

Yoshino: “Ohh, umm....thank you.”

Yoshitsune: “It’s only good for a few days. I want it to be a good luck charm in case of emergency.”

I agreed without a second, but....

.................

......That night.

Yoshino: “Eh, you haven’t caught the killer yet?”

Rebel vessel 1: “No. Although we are still in the middle of our interrogation, Yoshitsune-sama has asked me to report to you urgently before we take our leave.”

Yoshino: “Thank you.”

(Even though he is under interrogation, can I be a little relieved....?)

After the retainer has left, he breathes a sigh of relief.

My body slowly relaxed and I realise that I was more nervous than I thought.

(Yoshitsune-sama probably gave me the report so that I could sleep a little more calmly. I must thank him tomorrow.)

(Let’s read and sleep for the rest of the day.)

I reached for the tabletop to read the history book I had borrowed to review the knowledge Kagetoki-san had taught me.

..............

Yoshino: “Oh, no! I was told I had to return this book by today.”

(I’d forgotten all about it in the assassination fiasco.)

(I thought I’d ask someone to give it back to library.)

Perhaps it was the noise of the assassination attempt, but the vassals passing through the corridor were not in the mood to be approached.

However, I felt bad about calling them all the way.

(Because it would be unpleasant for the Rebels to take up my errands as a member of the Shogunate that everyone hates.)

Yoshino: “....The library is not far, so it should be fine, right?”

My heart ached for the thorn that I could not pull out.

(But something is bugging me----)

(Because I know that the Rebels, like everyone else in the Shogunate, are fighting for their friends and their beliefs.)

I was walking in the corridor while thinking about this, when----

(Nn.......!?)

Suddenly, a hand reaches out and covers my mouth, pulling me hard from behind.

Yoshino: ”Nnn...nnn....”

Man 1: “Shut up!”

I was pushed into a spare room and the sliding door slammed shut roughly.

Yoshino: “Nn....what the!”

Man 2: “How dare you, a member from the Shogunate walking around with her head held high in front of our eyes.”

------Part 3------

Man 2: “How dare you, a member from the Shogunate walking around with her head held high in front of our eyes.”

Man 1: “Yeah, I’ll avenge my comrades who were caught.”

Two men stood in front of me with swords.

(They’re going to kill me-----)

My blood froze with fear and my toes began to tremble.

(So there are two people!?)

They smile mockingly at me as I slowly back away.

(What should I do? I’ll buy some time and then....)

I remembered the whistleblower in my pocket and reach out for it------

Man 2: “...Our former comrades were killed in the war against the Shogunate.”

(If I call Kurama, he’ll surely kill them....)

(But, even I’d hate my enemies if they killed my friends....)

The words came out of my mouth in a rush----

Yoshino: “Look, we can talk this over...okay?”

Man 1: “Huh?”

(....I’m sorry. I know I’m being reckless, but....)

The faces of the two men became increasingly grim.

Yoshino: “Please, I beg you. I won’t tell Yoshitsune-sama and the others about you.....”

Man 2: “Are you kidding me? Woman!”

Yoshino: “No I....”

They held down my body as I tried to escape and I struggled.

Man 1: “Shut up! We’ll finish you off quickly and you won’t feel a thing!”

(NO!!)

I saw the white blade shining brightly while he was on top of me.

Regret and fear nearly overwhelmed me when----

Kurama: “Footsteps and squeaks like rats in the night.”

(Kurama!)

The men stopped moving when they heard a low voice.

Man 1: “Kurama-sama!”

Kurama entered the room and narrowed his eyes coldly at me.

Kurama: “.....What are you doing, Yoshino?”

Yoshino: “I...”

Man 1: “Kurama-sama! Please don’t move!”

The man screams while pointing the sword at my throat.

Kurama: “Who gave you permission to move? I forbid you to move against my will, not even a finger.”

Men: “!”

As soon as they felt the space distorting, their faces were filled with astonishment.

Man 2: “W-What is this?”

Man 1: “I can’t move!”

(Maybe he used Kotodama!?)

Kurama: “If you come in my way again, I’ll block your breathing.”

It was a blizzard of frost and they both lost their blood, their mouths still tightly shut when they should be free.

Kurama(glare): “Yoshino. Answer me. Why didn’t you call me?”

-------Part 4------

Kurama(glare): “Yoshino. Answer me. Why didn’t you call me?”

A stinging, deadly energy emanated silently from Kurama’s body and filled the room.

(....If I give a bad answer, he’ll kill everyone in this room including me.)

Yoshino: “I....I was almost killed.”

Kurama: “Why didn’t you blow the whistle when you knew you were?”

I can’t breathe properly because I feel the mass of air around me has increased so much.

Yoshino: “B-Because.”

I struggled to speak under the cold stare.

Yoshino: “I thought it would only be natural that there are people in this house who hates me because I’m an enemy. So, if we could talk it through....”

Kurama: “Oh. So, you want to die.”

(......!!)

Yoshino: “No, I----”

Kurama: “You already declared right in front of me that you’re on the Shogunate’s side. Then, why are you trying to make peace with these guys? I despise with all my heart anyone who would describe that warmth as kindness.”

The low voice, crushed my rebuttal.

Kurama: “Yoshino---is it horrible to be hated for real by someone who is right in front of you?”

(Ah.......)

I couldn’t even speak because it was so true.

(Yes, I didn’t want to be the bad guy.)

(I’m afraid of the malice directed at me by someone else, so I tried to look away from it.....)

(As a result, I almost lost my life.)

(If I die, I won’t be able to help everyone in the Shogunate anymore, but I made the wrong decision.)

Kurama: “Be proud to be an enemy that someone hates, if that’s what you’re willing to do with your life. If not, you may disperse here and now in disgrace.”

(.....Those serious eyes.)

With all the energy in my body, I looked straight back into Kurama’s eyes.

Yoshino: “-----I don’t want to die. Even if someone hates me.”

Kurama: “If you want to live, you must beg, and you must risk the lives of others.”

---------Part 5---------

Yoshino: “-----I don’t want to die. Even if someone hates me.”

Kurama: “If you want to live, you must beg, and you must risk the lives of others.”

Kurama snapped his fingers high in the air.

Men: “....!”

As if on cue, the bodies of the men escaped from the Kotodama.

Man 1: “Fuck you!”

Yoshino: “!!”

(No, I want to live!)

I pushed the man’s chest and scream as I struggle.

Yoshino: “Help! Kurama----”

Kurama: “That’s right. Beg me from the bottom if your heart.”

Strong wind blew around the room.

Man 2: “What the hell!?”

One of the men winces as he is cut down by an invisible blade of wind.

Man 1: “Ku...”

The other one, who was cutting at me, immediately seized his hand and removed his sword.

Kurama: “Surrendering already? You got no guts at all.”

(Finally....!!)

Man 1: “I-I heard you were a foreigner. Why would you use such great power to protect a woman of the Shogunate?”

Man 2: “Yeah! We’re just trying to avenge our friends.....”

As I sit there stunned, the men screamed at me.

Kurama: “It is the prerogative of the strong to choose where they wield their power. But before you accuse me of being unworthy.....”

The blood colored eyes took the men in their stride for the first time and penetrated deep into them.

Kurama: “You took Yoshino by surprise in a place where its not a battlefield. It seems to be for a great cause, but it’s only a matter of venting your resentment on an entity that you’re sure has the upper hand. What a pathetic petty way to live.”

Men: “Nn...........”

(Kurama.........)

I can’t help but be drawn to the way he says it with such strength and grace.”

(To everyone, Kurama is fair and merciless.)

(But, I’m sure that’s because.... Kurama himself is not ashamed of his life to anyone.)

The tension that I had felt earlier had dissipated, and I could feel the hot blood flowing through my body.

Kurama: “Yoshitsune will be the one to deal with you. It’s stupid, I’m not even interested in your life or death. Don’t ever stand in my line of sight again. Also.......”

(!!)

As if remembering, Kurama grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

Kurama: “This woman belongs to me. If you have a problem with that, you can tell me who owns her.

Chapter 17

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen mc #ikemen genjiden kurama #main story translations #otome #cybird #cybird otome #cybird ikemen

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Places (Pt. 11 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (10)

{Vikings Masterlist}

Home

Walking slow, you keep up the pace of a heavily pregnant Aslaug. The news of the child on its way came on the last day of the feast for your wedding and it was well-received by everyone. The snow falling gives Kattegat an amazing look, with everything painted white. The ocean is starting to freeze, but there are still boats coming and going, doing the last trades by sea before the ice keeps them away, having to endure the walk instead of sailing here.

Heading to the main hall, you stop when Aslaug stops, a hand on her swollen belly. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. I just need to lie down for a while.” She answers, setting in motion again. “Ragnar sons are always–” She's cut short once you enter the hall, the high number of people gathered around getting both your attentions. “Did something happen?” She asks, raising her voice. Ragnar comes to stand beside her, very protective ever since he found about the pregnancy.

You make your way to where Ivar is, seated on Ragnar's throne. “What's going on?” You ask him. “Bad news?”

“Boats were seen sailing this way.” He answers, gesturing, and dismissing the men. “With your brother's flag.”

“What the hell does Aethelwulf want?” Shrugging your shoulders, you stand beside Ivar, who takes your hand and places a kiss on it.

“Ask father.” He says, clearly annoyed.

Raising an eyebrow, you look at Ragnar. “Last raid I might have left implied that you were here on Kattegat, so... I think they came to take you back.”

“Why would you do that?” You inquire, hands on your hips.

“They were really pissing me off.” Ragnar justifies, and you roll your eyes.

“Are they coming for war?”

“No,” Bjorn says, entering the hall and dusting off his clothes from the snow. “I don't think they're planning on battle us, on our ground, with such few people.”

“Good. It means I can just tell them I don't wanna go and they'll leave.” Sighing, you look at Ivar. “And here I was planning on asking you to take me on the next raid.” You complain to Ivar, shooting Ragnar an angry glance. “England came to me.”

“Missing home?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I want to sail for weeks, stay on a camp in the woods for the entire summer for any other reason than to staying with you?” Faking an annoyed tone, you raise an eyebrow at Ivar.

Giggling, he bites his lip, nodding his head. “My mistake, princess.” Winking, he turns his attention back to his father. “Let's do what we have to do and get this tiny problem out of our lives so I can enjoy winter with my wife.”

“Speaking of enjoying the winter, I'll fix myself a warm bath and I hope you to join me.” With that, you turn around and head inside, ignoring the low chattering your words caused.

The word got out, you think, about Ivar being able to perform sexually. But since you were the first one to know, you don't mind the gossip.

The girls don't take much time to get everything ready, and you let them help you undress before you step into the tub. You always use Ivar's tub now, since you just moved into his bedroom after the wedding. As if you weren't sleeping here before. A few moments later you hear Ivar coming inside, taking off his clothes before joining you, making the hot water spill off when he moves inside, settling down next to you.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispers, immediately pulling you into a kiss, and you can't help but smile as you cave in, running a hand through his chest.

“Thank you, handsome.” You mutter when you pull away to breathe, biting your lip.

“Won't you even consider it?” You don't follow, so you pinch your eyebrows together, looking at your husband.

“Consider what?”

“Going back home.” There's fear in his voice, and that's a sentiment he only shows to you.

Ever since the announcement, Ivar has been listening to some rude things. People are mean, some of them at least. They say you'll leave him, trade him for a full man. That you'll get tired of him soon enough. You've been into awful arguments with some people about it, and Ivar have nearly killed a man a few weeks ago. With time, these comments are fading away, but it always gets to him. And when it happens, it's your mission to reassure him your love hasn't changed, it has only gotten bigger.

“I am home.” Caressing his cheek, you smile. “This is where I belong.” Your voice fades when you remember you have something to tell Ivar. It's been a while since you've been feeling odd, and your period is very late. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something.”

He furrows his eyebrows, a question on his face. “What is it?”

You know he wants kids, you've always knew. And you've been waiting until you're sure. And you're kinda sure at this point. “Ivar, I... I may be with child.” Speaking low, barely a whisper, you focus on his expression, trying to read it.

But you don't need too much. Ivar's lips break into a smile, and he kisses you deeply, until you're out of breath. “I'll be a father.” He says when you pull away.

“Yes, you will. And if it depends on me, you'll have a bunch of children, my love.” You can't wait to tell everyone, to let them know Ivar can do what they all doubted.

“I love you, (Y/N). More than everything.”

“We need to talk names now.” Giggling, you caress his face. “Everyone will have a suggestion.”

“We'll have to do it later.”

“Later? Why? Are you planning on doing anything now?” Smirking, you don't need any other answer than the kiss he gives you, and suddenly all the rest is put aside for a moment.

°°°

Hours later, when the sun is about to set, you're at the docks, watching as the two boats approach. A great number of people came too, of course, to see how it'll play out. There are soldiers, ready to fight if that's the case, but if it depends on you, it won't come to that. It doesn't look like they're here for war.

It gets your attention when one of the men, standing on the edge of the ship, recognizes you. He raises his eyebrows, but you don't show any expression. Slowly, he and a few men step out of the boat, eyes scanning through the Vikings, ready to defend themselves and their leader. That's when you recognize the man, Sir Wilfred, one of your father's man, now working for your older brother. He was kind to you, so you don't have your walls all the way up.

“Princess (Y/N).” He greets you with a small smile, taking your hand and placing a kiss on it. “It's a true blessing to find you alive and... Well.”

“It's good to see you too, Sir. Hope you made a safe trip here. But may I ask why did you and such a small army bothered to sail all the way to Kattegat?” Cutting straight to the point, you offer him a small smile. Ivar, who stands beside you, gets a worried stare from Wilfred, and you can feel his anger emanating.

“King Aethelwulf, your brother, sent us. After Ragnar Lothbrok told him you were here, brought by your own will, he decided to give you a chance to reconquer your old life, as a princess, by his side.” There's more than he's saying because you know your brother. It doesn't sound like something he would say. Aethelwulf wants you back because he can't even begin to imagine who would want to stay here. And he's ego demands him to try and get you back, so he can present you to his court, telling them how you came back to your senses and abandoned the barbarians.

“Tell my brother I have no intention of leaving Kattegat.” You begin, getting a weird expression from Wilfred, and some of his men start gossiping with each other. “I made myself a home here, among the Vikings. I even married one.” Gesturing at Ivar, you have to bite back the laugh that threatens to emerge at the surprise on Wilfred's face. “This is Ivar the Boneless, my husband and the father of the child I'm carrying. And I believe you know him very well Sir.”

“My princess, I don't understand–”

“I'm thankful for this... Rescue party you brought with you across the ocean, but I don't need to be rescued.” Cutting him off, you step back a little, gesturing at the people who stand behind you. “This is my place now, my people. My house, my King and Queen, my husband and friends. I'm not being held against my will. In fact, I didn't come against my will.” You raise your voice, so all of his men will listen, so the truth can find a way to your brother's ears. “With the same people you call soulless, barbarians, monsters, I found great happiness, something that I never had back in England. And I apologize if you had to endure such a journey for nothing, but I won't be going with you. And, just in case you were ordered to take me by force, I must advise you not to try it. Because you will lose.”

“My princess, those aren't the orders,” Winfred speaks again, clearly uncomfortable. “King Aethelwulf commands that, if you are indeed here by your own will, and refuses to return home, he will tell your people you died, and never again you'll find refuge in his kingdom.

Laughing a little, you shrug your shoulders. “So be it.” You simply say, looking at Ivar, who has a smile on his lips. “I'm not going anywhere.” You tell most to your husband than to anyone else. “It was good to see you one last time, Sir Wilfred.” But now I must ask you and your men to sail away from Kattegat. Your presence here isn't welcome.”

“I wouldn't stay even if you invited me, Prin... (Y/N).” He quickly corrects himself, and the change of humor makes you giggle.

“I wasn't planning on inviting you, Sir. Have a safe trip back to England.” Nodding at him, you turn around, walking away with Ivar next to you. Everyone steps out of your way, and you notice how some of Ragnar's men take a position to follow the Saxons back to their ship and until they're far enough from the town.

The commotion soon stays behind as you make your way back home, the wind, which gets colder by the day, messing with your hair.

“I love both of you,” Ivar says, out of nowhere, making you stop on your tracks by the main hall's entrance.

“What's that now?” Squinting your eyes, you stare at him, a chuckle caught in your throat.

“You make me happy. Like I never thought I'd be.” He comes closer, a hand on your belly. “This child is the very image of what we feel. And I never thought I'd ever love someone this much. Or that someone would love me even though–”

“Well, I love you. Just the way you are.” Your heart warms up at his smile, genuine and kind. “Now, let's get inside. It's getting cold.” Taking his hand, you pull him inside.

Many things are on the way now. The child, the raids, on which you do want to go every once in a while. The road is long and full of surprises, but you're willing to enjoy every step of the way. You never thought this would be how your life turned out, but as crazy as it is, it's good. It's the proof that love and happiness can be found in the most unexpected places, and you found both those things in a town across the world, with people who live in a completely different culture, in very different ways. But you would do it all over again, and now that you're here, you'll never take things for granted. You'll never trade this for anything else, not even for the throne of Wessex. This is far more valuable than all the crowns of the world.

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @msrawog @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

#ivar the boneless imagine #imagine ivar #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #imagine ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader

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ao3komorii · 4 years

Text

Behind the Blade’s Shadow (Talon/Reader)

Starting posting my league stories! I have 3 atm but plan on writing more, but wanted to post my Talon one first. May have taken some liberties with his personality since there’s not a lot of lore material available for Talon but I’m happy with how it came out. As well, just a warning that there is smut at the end of this one!

----

Noxus was a place of power, a place where the strong rise up and carve their own paths, dooming the weak to cower in their shadows. Power is achieved in many ways, and the powerful always had a place in Noxus, provided that they were willing to defend themselves from those wanting to take them down and take their place.

You learned the realities of Noxus from an early age. Your parents were as ambitious as they came, both rising up in the ranks through their own strength and cunning. By the time you had been born, they had formed an alliance with General Du Couteau, securing themselves high ranking positions in the Noxian army. Their power was unquestioned, and the final piece of their empire was complete when you were born.

You were to be their successor; that expectation had been made clear to you since you were old enough to talk. You were their legacy, and every single thing you did would reflect back on them. You were to be a warrior, a leader worthy of carrying on the family legacy of strength and power.

It had always been a burden that you didn’t want to bear. It all started when your powers manifested; magic was seen as a great asset in Noxian society, a weapon that could be used to gain an advantage on the competition. But as soon as your parents’ excitement rose, it was snuffed out. Your magic could be mistaken by nobody in Noxus for power. The light blue glow that you channeled in your hands could heal wounds, but could not cause them.

Healers in Noxus did not bring prestige upon themselves. Warriors, leaders, mages… they could carve their own paths. Healers were used, but they served from the shadows. They were not to be seen, and were not worthy of the respect and admiration of the masses. Before you could begin to feel any curiosity and pride in your powers, you were instructed by your parents to hide your abilities. They would not be the parents of a lowly healer, that much was made clear to you at the age of eight.

There was so much pressure put on you that it became hard to take. Between combat lessons and lectures from your father about the qualities of a proper Noxian, you had no time to be like the other young girls you saw walk by outside from the view at your window. Your only free time in the day was when your parents finally decided that your wounds from practice were severe enough to end early, and you were sent to your room to heal your own wounds. They knew that you still used your powers, but it seemed to be a comfort to them that you did it hidden away in your room, away from the judging eyes of Noxian society.

When you turned ten, your parents added stealth training to your lessons, as assassins were becoming a larger presence in the ranks of the Noxian military. These were the only lessons that you looked forward to; your teacher was incredibly harsh and ruthless, but you put immediate use to your new stealth prowess by sneaking out of your house at night. What started as an attempt to test your skills turned into almost weekly trips into the city to satisfy your curiosities about the world outside the fortress that was your home.

The nighttime streets of Noxus posed little danger to you. There were always shady things going on, but nobody had any care for one lone child as long as you stayed out of their business. You were careful to be back before your parents noticed you were gone, as you had come to fear their ire more than anything.

What little pocket money you were given was spent on a small bakery that made sweet buns that your parents would never let you have otherwise. You knew they would be unhappy to hear that you were deviating from their plan for you, even a small infraction like sweet buns would likely earn you a verbal lashing or a day without food. Noxian tough love at its finest.

Your training that day had been especially hard; you were fairly certain that your teacher had broken some part of your arm, and those always took you forever to heal and left you feeling exhausted. If there were any day you needed a sweet bun, it was today. You waited only a few minutes after your parents left for a meeting to sneak out of your window. You normally would be more patient, but you wanted your sweet bun immediately. Your parents’ meetings with other Noxian officials usually ran for several hours, so you would have plenty of time to get to the bakery and back with them being none the wiser.

The streets were as busy as usual; Noxus came alive at night with activity. You had made this trip so many times that you could almost do it with your eyes closed. The small bakery was no more than a twenty minute walk from your house, ten if you ran the whole way there. You didn’t see many familiar faces on the way, but that was usual for Noxus. Not a lot of people who came out to play at night liked to openly flaunt their faces to the public while conducting shady dealings.

There was never a long line at the bakery, and today was no exception. The small, unassuming store never saw much late night traffic, which worked out for you as the owner would often give you an extra sweet bun as they would otherwise go bad overnight.

You greeted the owner meekly. As nice as she was, she was still a pureblood Noxian, built intimidatingly despite her profession. You were never sure if she liked you or not, because her face remained stony even as you watched her add two extra sweet buns to the bag before handing it to you. You smiled despite your nervousness; an extra two sweet buns was something to be excited about in your world right now.

The whole encounter had only taken a few minutes at most, and you were confident that you would make it home with plenty of time and have enough sweet buns for the next few days. You were so busy counting the buns that you were caught off guard by a brash laugh ringing out near you. You nearly dropped the bag of buns as you hurriedly backed up into an alley and peeked out to see your combat trainer walking along with several other men.

You couldn’t let him see you. There was no way that he wouldn’t report you to your parents if he caught you sneaking out. You waited for him to walk by the alley you were hiding in so you could run home, but as if fate was taunting you, him and his buddies came to a stop just beside where you were hiding.

Your brain went into panic mode. You had been doing well with your stealth lessons, but you had never managed to beat your trainer in combat. His battle instincts were hardened over time, and there was no way that you could sneak past him when he was mere feet from you. You would have to find another way home.

You didn’t give it another thought, slowly backing farther into the alleyway, your eyes on your teacher, terrified that he would suddenly notice you. But he was caught up with his companions, and your fears were unfounded. As soon as you got to the end of the alleyway, you turned and ran in whatever direction you felt might get you to your home.

The alleyways were all connected, and you found yourself in a maze of grungy walls. You didn’t know where you were or when you would find yourself on the streets again. You only felt like you could breathe when the next turn finally brought you out in the open air again. But with that came the realization that you were definitely lost. This was bad.

You felt tears prick at your eyes immediately. You had never been caught sneaking out before, but you knew your parents would not be forgiving. You stumbled forward, wiping your tears on your sleeve as you looked at your surroundings.

The area was barren; thick, grey stone walls of nearby buildings caged the area in. Your eyes were immediately drawn to a small bridge, one that had not seen water beneath it in a long time, as the soil beneath it looked thirsty and cracked. With how much trouble you had gone to in order to accidentally stumble upon this place, you had to assume that its location was lost to most, hidden by the swirling alleyways.

Clearly some people still found their way here, you assumed, as you noticed some blood on the ground that looked still somewhat fresh. You took another look around, but didn’t see anyone, so you felt that it was safe to proceed.

You were going to walk around the bridge until you noticed a glint of silver from beneath the bridge that drew your curiosity. You changed course, climbing down from the small ledge that separated the two sides connected by the bridge, taking a few steps forward only to fall on your back in shock as a figure rushed at you, their gleaming silver knife just missing the flesh of your chest.

You gasped in fear, holding the bag of sweet buns to your chest as your attacker emerged from the shadows of under the bridge. You were confused… he was just a boy. A boy no older than you were. He had shaggy brown hair, and was wearing a ragged-looking pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt that was torn and stained red on one sleeve, droplets of red falling from the fabric to the floor as he stared you down, knife still raised high. His eyes were both angry and afraid, and you found yourself more concerned for him than you were afraid of him.

He made no further movements toward you, which gave you a little more time to look at him. He was dirty, like he had slept outdoors for a month or longer. And his exposed arm not only gave you a look at the deep cut along his forearm, but also at how thin it was. What had you stumbled upon?

“Hey…” He flinched at the sound of your voice. “Do you want me to heal that?”

He looked wary and confused, but not like he would hurt you, so you stood up slowly, dusting yourself off. You took a step towards him, and he took one back in return. “Wait, please! I have healing magic and your arm looks like it really hurts!”

He glared at you, his brown eyes full of suspicion, but he didn’t move, staying still as a statue as you walked over to him and took his injured arm and held it gently. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your paper bag on the floor, his eyes tracking your every movement. You gently ran a hand just above his wound, and watched as the blue glow swirled from your fingertips and began to mend his flesh, leaving not even a scratch behind when you were done.

“You…” he whispered, staring at his arm in awe.

You grinned sheepishly. “I’ve never healed someone else before.”

He put down his knife at last as he lifted his arm up to his face to look at it the second that you released your hold on him. He almost seemed to forget that you were there, and you reached down to pick up your bag of sweets. The crinkling of the paper bag drew his attention from his arm, and you had a brief mental war with yourself; you had been looking forward to the buns, but he was so thin, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that he was hungry.

With a bit of selfish reluctance that you pushed down, you held the bag out to him. He looked a little confused, so you reached into the bag and pulled out a bun. “I got some sweet buns… they’re really good!”

You held it out to him, plastering a grin on your face to try and seem less scary. It was such a silly thought; he’s the one with a knife and here you were trying not to scare him off. As a last attempt, you ripped a small piece from the bun and popped it in your mouth. You had really missed these, and if he didn’t want them, you would eat them yourself!

He snatched the bag so fast that you almost dropped it. You watched as he took a bun out of the bag and bit into it, devouring the whole thing in a matter of seconds. You giggled as you watched him eagerly eat a second bun as well.

You realized that you didn’t know his name, and readily introduced yourself, asking for his name in return. He stared at you, eyes flickering to the paper bag as he mumbled his reply.

“…Talon.”

“Nice to meet you, Talon!” you replied with a grin.

Your focus was then drawn to the skyline, the sun almost fully vanished from the sky. You had to get home before it was too late, but you still didn’t know the way. Maybe your new friend would know?

“Hey, Talon?” you asked. “Do you know how to get back to the main streets? I’m kinda lost and I have to get home before my parents get back.”

You could have sworn he looked a little sad as he nodded. “This way.”

He carefully set the bag of buns under the bridge, where you also saw a few trinkets and a threadbare blanket. You didn’t want to make him sad, so you didn’t bring up his dreary living arrangements, instead choosing to follow him over past the other side of the bridge and through a very narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for you to fit through.

It was a short walk, but the alley was too thin for most adults to get through, so you could see why the spot with the bridge was so isolated and empty. It had probably been built long ago, before all the other buildings had been here to close it off from the world’s notice. Gradually, more and more light began to filter into the dim alley path until you arrived on a street you were surprised to discover that you found to be familiar.

“I can get home from here!” you announced happily, and Talon only nodded in response.

He brushed past you, and you felt sad at the imminent loss of his company. You had no friends; the only kids your age you were ever around were your parents’ friends’ children, and all they cared about was showing off their combat prowess by giving you more bruises than you could count.

You grabbed Talon’s sleeve without thinking about what you wanted to say, which resulted in a short moment of silence. “Can I come see you again?”

He looked at you for a moment before turning his face away. “Do whatever you want.”

“Okay, then I’ll come and see you again soon!” you promised.

You were going to take his answer for a yes, and waved goodbye to him before dashing back onto the streets, keeping a careful eye out for your trainer as you hurried home.

Your heart was racing in your ears as you crawled back through your window, terrified that your parents had noticed your absence or your trainer had seen you. But as you sat on your bed for the next few hours with only your thoughts as company, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Not that night, or the next day. You were hyper observant of the behavior of everyone around you, but noticed nothing unusual at all. After a few days, you were finally confident enough to say that you had not been caught.

As soon as your paranoia faded, curiosity took its place. You had never had a friend before, and the fact that he was a secret friend that your parents didn’t know about just made you more excited to see him again. You excitedly counted down the days until your parents would attend another meeting. You had so little to look forward to as of late, and the mysterious boy was just what you needed. A friend that wouldn’t judge you, or report your failings back to your parents. Part of you knew that you didn’t know Talon very well yet and he may end up being a jerk, but the bigger part of you was too excited to have a real friend to think of much else.

You began to visit Talon every chance you got. Your parents had been having lots of meetings lately, and you took every opportunity to go see your new friend. At first he seemed surprised to see you again, like he thought that you wouldn’t make good on your promise. He still didn’t talk much, but you did enough talking for the both of you, telling him about your life and your parents as he silently listened and ate the sweet buns that you always brought him. He never told you much about his life, but eventually he admitted that he didn’t have any parents, which you had suspected. You wondered about him, but didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you never pried. He would often have new cuts or scratches, which you happily healed for him. It felt good to be able to use your powers to help someone, even though your parents had forbidden it. You and Talon were secret friends, and nothing would keep you from seeing him.

In hindsight, you had been overconfident. You were stupid to think that a ten-year-old girl could keep such a big secret from parents that happened to be high ranking Noxian officials. You had been in your own little bubble for the few months that you had been seeing Talon for that you began to get sloppy covering your tracks. Your parents had noticed a shift in your personality, and unbeknownst to you had instructed your stealth teacher to follow you when you were alone.

You had seen Talon as usual before heading home, not knowing that it would be your last visit to your friend. You felt your blood freeze in your veins as you crawled into your window as you always did… only to find your parents standing in your room. The stern glares on their faces told you that something was wrong, and your stealth teacher entering the room sent you to your knees with fear as the assassin calmly gave your parents a report of all that you had done when you were out.

Your parents listened quietly, and your father’s solemn nod made you think that things might not be as bad as you thought until he opened his mouth. “Kill the boy.”

“No!” you wailed. “Don’t hurt him, please!”

“We cannot have you believing that associating with street orphans is acceptable behavior,” your mother added. “Not for a future general of Noxus like yourself.”

Scared tears ran down your cheeks as you pleaded desperately for Talon’s life. “I won’t see him again! Please don’t kill him! I’ll stay here and I won’t leave again!”

Your parents regarded you coldly, and you watched as a smug smile slowly grew on your mother’s face. “See that you don’t. That street urchin is a distraction, and you must have no distractions if you want to succeed.”

You were almost too scared to breathe. Did that mean that they wouldn’t have Talon killed? Even if it meant that you couldn’t see him anymore, you had to save him.

Your father sneered at you. “Stop snivelling. I will spare the boy, provided you do what you must for the future of Noxus. You must learn now to keep to your word or I will be forced to undertake measures to ensure that you do.”

You were so relieved that Talon would be okay that you didn’t think about what your father had meant until the next day when you came back to your room after sparring to find bars on your windows. Your door began to be locked whenever you were in it. You were truly a prisoner in your own home.

Your life became training and sleeping; every little kindness or happiness you had before was stripped away the moment you had been caught. At first, you wept for your lost friend, wondering how he was doing and if he missed you as much as you missed him. You had gone so long without friends, and to have the only one that you ever had ripped away from you took from you the last bit of fight that you possessed. You would be a good little possession and never disobey your parents again, although it wasn’t as if you had any choice in the matter now. Your life had always been in their hands and it was either obey or perish.

As the years went by, you stopped crying for Talon, as it had been so long that your time with him was a fading memory. You sometimes wondered what happened to him, but those times became few and far between. When you had reached adulthood, your parents finally eased some restrictions on you, but by then they had already broken you with years of harsh restrictions. You had no desire to leave your room, even if the door was unlocked.

The main difference now that you were no a longer a child was the political lectures really ramping up. You were forced to memorize names and faces of both ally and enemy to your parents. They would bring you along to lesser important functions and you were expected to have a response ready for anyone who conversed with you. You would be happy to stay home, but now that you were a picture of the perfect Noxian lady, your mother insisted on showing all of their hard work off.

You were starting to get restless with your sudden debut into Noxian social circles; it was painfully obvious to you that you had never socialized with anyone who hadn’t been paid by your parents. You were proper and knowledgeable, but never made any real connections. You didn’t know what to say to the people your age that truly enjoyed engaging in brutal violence for the sake of Noxus, and you certainly didn’t care to talk about which enemy of Noxus had been assassinated that week.

It was at your mother’s insistence that you finally reinstated the previously forbidden walks you had taken as a child, as your despondency to the world had long affected you at social functions you were dragged to. You supposed it would be impossible for her to do anything solely for your own benefit, but you had agreed after she had insisted that you would not be trailed on these walks. So there you were, at the age of twenty-four, taking your first walk alone outside in fourteen years.

You had been places with your parents, but you didn’t stop to enjoy the scenery, so it was a new experience for you. The city had changed and evolved since you had been kept indoors. Now that you had your own agency for the short time your mother had allotted for you to walk around, you found your feet taking you to that same alleyway you had gone through to see Talon so long ago. You knew you were being dumb, there was no way he was still there waiting for you. You had no idea if he was even still alive, the Noxian streets being as they were. But something inside you insisted that you had to see for yourself, but the alley was too thin for you to get through now that you were an adult.

The small alley may have stopped a less capable person, but you had nothing in your life to focus on but training, so scaling a building was nothing for you now. You knew there were people around you, but you would be up and over the building before any of them could stop you and question you on what you were doing.

You nimbly ran along the rooftop before scaling down the side of it to land right in front of the old bridge. You almost felt like you were ten years old again, coming to meet your friend. But that was so long ago, and hope had left you that day. You were simply here to satisfy your unrelenting curiosity, chasing after some closure.

You approached the bridge, some small part of you expecting to see the boy sitting there. But there was nobody and nothing. Not even Talon’s old dusty blanket. No sign that he had ever been here, although you knew that you hadn’t imagined him. You sat down where he used to be, losing yourself in your only recorded happy memories for a few minutes until you decided it was time to leave. Your mother would be expecting you, and there was nothing more for you here.

You began to notice a pattern with when you were being sent out on walks. Whenever you would come back, you would cross paths with associates of your parents who were just leaving. Without fail, your parents always seemed to have company over while you were gone.

Your parents had never hid their work away from you so obviously before, and had been bringing you with them to their strategic meetings before this pattern had started. So what had changed? What were they doing that they were trying to hide from you?

You knew it must be nothing good; your parents were endlessly ambitious, and this time, their plan must be something big. Something they couldn’t risk even their daughter knowing about. You were curious, but more than that, you began to worry. Were your parents getting in over their heads? They were tough, but they weren’t invulnerable.

You had to know what they were getting themselves into. But you knew that they would never tell you if you asked. You tried to brainstorm ideas as you walked around town the next time you had been sent out at your mother’s urging, but nothing was coming to mind. You did everything they asked of you, so why couldn’t they trust you with whatever they were planning?

The streets were too loud, and it was proving to be too much of a distraction for you to concentrate on your own thoughts. You decided to divert your path at the next alleyway, heading down the dingy path once you determined it to be vacant. Almost immediately, you noticed a change in the volume of the world around you; the raised voices and noises of society dulled the farther down the back alley you walked.

Even being in total silence did nothing for your current dilemma. What could you do to discover the truth without your parents finding out? Wracking your brain for ideas only ended up giving you the familiar tinges of pain that you knew would turn into a headache if you didn’t give yourself a break from thinking yourself to death.

You came to an abrupt stop as you noticed a figure slumped against a wall just ahead of you. Cursing yourself internally for not paying attention to your surroundings, you weighed your options. You could turn around and go right back where you had come from; one glance at the person told you that they didn’t even seem to have noticed you yet. They were likely a drunk or a vagrant, and you knew that your years of training meant that if you wanted to escape from them, then they wouldn’t be able to stop you.

But another part of you felt compelled by your mother’s lectures on pride. You shouldn’t be afraid to walk by one drunk passed out in an alleyway. You needed to hold your head up high and show this person that you were not a coward, nor someone to be messed with. You felt embarrassed when you realized you had gotten in your own head again, and a distinctly male groan from the person just ahead of you spurned your feet into action.

You would just walk right on past him, like it was no big deal. But you couldn’t help but scrutinize him as you got closer. You couldn’t see his face, as he wore a long blue hooded cape, the hood hanging down over his eyes. You were surprised to see the cape split into tails that were tipped with sharp blades, as well as the large blade strapped to his wrist and forearm. You knew then that the man wasn’t just a drunk in an alleyway, but the time it took to make that observation cost you dearly.

You took too long to realize the danger he truly posed, as before you could blink, you cried out as you were pushed against the wall behind you, the man’s blade at your neck.

“So eager to die,” a deep voice growled as you stared down at his blade, knowing that he only had to press it a little more into your neck to end your life.

Now that he was right in your face, and much taller than you, the hood did much less to obscure his face from your view. He was handsome, something that may have flustered you if you weren’t in mortal peril. His dark brown hair hung just above his eyes and was cut to his collar. His face was angular, his expression set in haughty intimidation, but something about his face called an almost-lost memory to the surface.

“Talon…” you spoke before you could think.

You were too preoccupied with the past. Now this man would think you were a basket case, and you didn’t think that would improve your chances of surviving this encounter. But you were surprised to see that man stumble back from you with a surprised huff. What had happened? Was there some new threat you would have to worry about on top of the assassin in front of you? Unless… could you dare to hope?

“…are you really Talon?” you asked softly, advancing on the man.

“My name is not your concern,” he growled back at you, and then you noticed the blood.

How had you missed it? There was a large tear in the front of his shirt, which revealed both lean stomach muscles as well as a horrible wound that was gushing blood. No wonder he had been slumped over like a drunk; it was a miracle that he could stand at all with a wound that bad. Just as fast as he had advanced on you, he was now trying to flee using whatever endurance he had left. But you knew that without treatment, he wouldn’t be able to make it very far. And whatever had happened to him, whatever he had become since you had last seen him, you weren’t willing to lose him so soon after you had found him again.

“Please don’t run!” you pleaded, hastily telling him your name in hopes that he would remember you. “You’re really hurt! Let me help you!”

He tried to back up further down the alleyway, but since he was injured, you were faster than he was now. He put his blade up to resist, but then his arm dropped by his side as he felt your healing magic connect with his deep wound. He stared into your eyes with an expression that you couldn’t read as his wound healed rapidly before your eyes, and then he was left with a bare patch of torso that showed no signs of injury at all. Before he could even begin to calculate a next move, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms tightly around him, his surprised grunt echoing in the empty alleyway.

“I didn’t think I would see you again!” you cried, allowing him to push you gently back and create some distance between the two of you.

He was careful not to hurt you, but his eyes were not the same shy boy you had known before. His expression was dark, clouded with the years of pain that you couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Don’t get any closer to me. I’m not the weak child I once was,” he snarled, and the anger in his voice shattered what hope was still in your heart that maybe he had missed you too.

“Talon, please–” you began, inching closer to him, desperate to not lose him again.

He stared at you for a short moment, his gaze unwaveringly cold, before he turned and scaled the tall wall of the alley in the blink of an eye, and then he was gone.

You could have tried to follow him, but his rejection stung you fiercely. The only person in your life who you ever had a genuine connection with, and it turned out that he didn’t care at all. It had been so long, you told yourself, and he had grown up. He had no obligation to a girl he knew when he was ten, a girl he probably thought had abandoned him. He didn’t have to care about you and you knew that you shouldn’t have put those expectations in your head. Clearly the time you had spent together as children was only precious to you.

You were too stunned to cry as you turned and ran all the way home. Your abrupt entrance startled your parents, who had still been in a meeting with their associates, a bunch of documents spread out in front of them on the table. You rushed past them and to your room before your mother could yell at you, burying your face in your pillow as the tears finally came.

You were so stupid. That was the single thought that coursed through your mind that night and the entire next day. You had trouble focussing on anything else, and had paid the price in training when your teacher had almost dislocated your shoulder. You tried not to be upset, but giving up your secret hope that maybe Talon had been thinking about you all those years too was more than you could take right now. You needed a distraction.

Luckily for you, your parents were finally attending a meeting that wasn’t at your house that night. You had been curious about those papers they had in front of them, which would undoubtedly be kept in their study now. And with your father’s insistence that you stay behind and work on improving your earlier failures in combat, you had the perfect cover to do some snooping around. You bid them farewell with a smile you hoped didn’t look too eager for them to leave. They were none the wiser, and left the home at last, leaving you alone with your plan.

Their study was locked, which didn’t surprise you. But you had been trained in picking locks, even expensive and complicated locks such as this one. You just had to be patient and find the trick to this ones. Your steady hands paid off as you finally heard the click of the lock disengaging after several minutes of picking it.

You carefully hung the lock on the inside of the door as you stepped into the room. You had never been in here before, but it was certainly less exciting than the grand study you had imagined when you had pictured it in your head before. There were two large desks, as well as a simple table with a large map strewn across it. The most daunting part of the room was the sheer amount of papers laid across both desks and even spilling onto the floor.

You were confused; you had never known your parents to be anything but tidy and orderly, almost to a militant level. This level of disorder was so unusual that it was setting off your already frazzled nerves. You felt a deep sense of foreboding settle in your stomach as you bent down to pick up the papers that had fallen onto the floor.

Looking over the papers in your hands, you only had more questions instead of answers. You were looking at a list of meeting dates, as well as the names of those who attended the meetings, some of which you recognized as people you had been introduced to before. The names were generally the same under every meeting, but you couldn’t make any sense of what your parents needed the lists for.

You discarded the papers on the table, choosing instead to look over the map that was spread out over most of the table’s surface. It was an ordinary map of the city, but it had been dotted with arrows and a large circle drawn around the Noxian war command building in the center of the city. Was there something happening there? Could Noxus possibly be starting another war?

Feeling even more worried, you began to rifle through the papers on the desks, paying no mind as to how you would put everything back in its place when you were done. You were desperate for information, but the first few papers you looked at gave you no new insights. A breakdown of the defence budget, a summons for a meeting; you discarded papers left and right, looking for anything that stood out. Just as you were ready to toss a particularly wordy paper to the side, the name at the top of the page caught your eye.

General Du Couteau.

Reading over the document, you discovered that it was a report on the general’s daily activities. Why would your parents need this? It didn’t seem to be provided by the general himself, which meant that your parents had someone following the general’s movements and reporting them back. A quick glance at the bottom of the list told you that it extended to today, and the last note made your blood run cold.

Du Couteau will be in place at the war command building. Assassination will take no more than ten minutes.

The note was written in your father’s handwriting, unlike the foreign scrawl of the rest of the document. You couldn’t breathe; your parents planned to assassinate General Du Couteau, the leader of the Noxian army. Suddenly the scribbles on the map made sense. They had been plotting this for who knows how long, and it seemed like tonight was when they executed their plan.

You forced yourself to move, to sift through the remaining documents as fast as you could; you needed to know why they were doing this. Killing the head of the Noxian army was treason of the highest order; you knew that your parents were overly ambitious, but you never thought that they would plot to kill one of Noxus’ most high-ranking officials simply for their own gain. But the more documents you read, the more it became clear. Your parents were unsatisfied with their positions, deeply jealous of perceived favoritism from others towards Du Couteau, and were ready to do something about it. Tonight.

You had to stop them. This time their greed had brought them to a place where they might not be able to come back from, and you couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. The assassination was happening potentially any minute now, and you had to get to them before they made a choice they couldn’t take back.

You threw the papers back on the desk and turned around to sprint out of the room. You didn’t stop to change or grab any weapons, leaving the house and running towards the war command building in a pair of flimsy shoes and the short-sleeved black shirt and pants that you always trained in. Your feet were hurting, and you were sure that people were staring at you as you passed, but you couldn’t afford to pay any of that any mind.

As you got to the building, you could tell that something was already wrong. You had passed by here sometimes on your walks, and the place was always heavily guarded. But right now, you could see no guards, nobody outside the large building at all. It worked well for you now since you could pass through the gate and approach the heavy doors without any difficulty, but you knew that it was a bad sign for whatever was happening inside right now.

You pushed open the door and nearly fell, skidding to a stop by grasping onto the wall. Looking down, you realized what you had slipped in. The entryway was a bloody mess, and your shoes were now sticky and wet with the blood that ran from the corpses of several guards that lay on the floor.

You now understood what had happened to the guards outside, and the brutality was almost too much for you to bear. Throats ripped open, bones and organs visible, eyes still open, reflecting the shock and pain of their final moments. It was horrible, but you knew that they were too far gone for you to possibly save. You could not bring back the dead.

Things that you could not undo had already happened, and you knew that you had to move on. If you didn’t get to your parents soon, Noxus would lose its most valued general, and the entire country would be sent into a civil war. You steadied your feet, carefully stepping around the blood that flooded the floors and running farther into the building.

You encountered more guards the farther in you went, but they were all dead, just like the others. Whatever had happened here, the responsible parties had already moved on. As you got deeper into the building, you began to follow your ears. You could hear the sounds of a commotion, which gave you hope that you weren’t too late. You finally had a door in sight, and sprinted down the hallway to reach it as fast as possible.

Just as you were getting within reach of the door handle, a scream from within the room stilled your hand. The scream rang out with pain, but you recognized the sound of your mother’s voice anywhere. You forced your hand to move, throwing the door open and rushing inside.

You were too late, that much was clear to you. But not for the reason that you had thought.

It was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the floor, their blood covering the ground in a layer of red. You didn’t see Du Couteau anywhere, but you did see your mother as she fell to the ground, and you immediately recognized the deadly redhead behind her as she collected her knife from where it had been embedded in your mother’s back.

Your mother laid still on the ground, and made no movements or sounds. Your eyes were then drawn to the body that lay next to her… your father. They were both clearly dead. Even without looking at them, you knew that the deadly Katarina Du Couteau didn’t leave targets alive.

Now that you saw her here, you knew. It had all been a farce. General Du Couteau wasn’t here, and it was obvious that he had seen through your parents’ plan and sent his own assassins in to deal with the traitors. Your parents and their cohorts had never stood a chance.

You couldn’t help a gasp at watching your mother die before your eyes, a sound which you regretted the moment it brought Katarina’s attention to you. She twirled a dagger in her hand, the same dagger she had just killed your mother with, sending you a smirk that promised you that you were next.

Before you could blink, she had disappeared, and you were barely able to roll forward to avoid being stabbed in the back with her dagger. She slashed forward with a cry, and you scrambled to your feet to avoid the blow. Since she had appeared behind you, she had cut off your exit. There was very little chance of you getting past her and back out the door. You didn’t see any other living people in this room, which meant that she had singlehandedly executed everyone in here by herself. You knew immediately that this would likely be your tomb as well.

She was so fast, and it was all you could do to keep just ahead of her blades. But your dodging would not save you forever, and she was very obviously backing you into a corner. But you had no weapons, so you had no way to fight back and prevent her from caging you in. You were paralyzed with fear as your back hit the wall; you hadn’t even realized that you were that close to the wall to begin with.

Katarina’s dark laughter sent a shiver down your spine, and you could only watch as she raised her dagger, sauntering slowly over to you as she knew she had you trapped, and there was no need for her to rush. You couldn’t look at her anymore; if she was going to kill you, you just wanted it to be over with. You couldn’t make peace with this awful situation, but you could stand your ground here and not cry. You closed your eyes, breathing in and out as you waited for the impact of her dagger.

You heard her sneer, and braced yourself as best you could, until you heard Katarina let out a disgruntled cry as well as the clang of steel meeting steel. You obviously weren’t dead, so you opened your eyes to see why.

You could barely even see Katarina over the tall figure that stood between you and her. From how you had last parted, you didn’t think Talon wanted anything to do with you, but here he was, blocking Katarina’s dagger with his own blade. You didn’t know why he was here, but you were grateful for his help.

“You want to handle her yourself, Talon?” she asked him, and you felt numb as you realized that they were clearly on the same side. Why was he standing in the way right now then? Did he truly wish to kill you himself?

“Katarina…” Talon growled, and she rolled her eyes in response, sheathing her daggers.

She shrugged her shoulders in a manner that was too casual for being in a room full of people she had just killed. “Suit yourself. I’ve had enough of a workout today anyways.”

You both watched her go, and Talon didn’t turn around until she had left the room.

“Why are you here?”

The question startled you, and the anger in his voice made it hard for you to look at him. “My parents… I followed them here. They…”

He didn’t answer, and you finally looked at him. “Talon… you work for Du Couteau?”

He looked like he wanted to snarl at you again, but your saddened expression made him reconsider his answer. “…yes.”

The carnage around you devastated you, and as much as you wanted to grab onto Talon to remain afloat, he had shown no signs of warmth towards you. You couldn’t read him at all, and were scared to voice the thoughts in your head, scared to ask him if he was going to kill you in Katarina’s stead.

Talon turned away from you again, and you felt compelled to call out to him. “Wait!”

“Go home,” he replied sternly, and you got the impression that he was trying to put a wall between the two of you with his words. “You don’t need to get involved with me.”

“Talon!”

He didn’t reply, turning invisible before your eyes. You had no way to chase someone who was invisible, so you were forced to let him go. You just wished he would tell you why he was so desperate to pull as far away from you as he could.

You knew that you couldn’t stay in this room that smelled so strongly of blood that it was making you feel ill. You kept your eyes on the door, trying desperately not to look at the bodies of the dead, especially your parents. You should feel devastated at the loss of your parents, but you just felt sad. You had never held any great love for them, only respected them out of fear, and the notion that you would no longer be bound to their goals for you gave you a sense of freedom that you had never felt before.

They had aimed their ambitions too high, and the cost had been too great to bear. From what you knew of General Du Couteau, he was not a forgiving man. His ruthlessness and cunning had brought much to Noxus, but it also reflected back on his own people. Noxus stamps out the weak, and your parents were no exception. Their lust for power had made them an easy target for Du Couteau to flex his own power. You didn’t know what you would do now, but you couldn’t stay here. Especially if anyone decided to come back to make sure the job was done.

The way home was a blur. The moment you got home, you realized that you couldn’t recall the walk back at all. The house was silent, which somehow felt more oppressive than when your parents were here. You trudged back to your room, the blood on your shoes and pants leaving droplets behind you as you walked.

You tore your shoes and pants off before grabbing a cloth to scrub at the semi-dried blood on your calves and feet. You couldn’t recall when you had eaten last, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to have any desire to eat. All of your recent stress was collapsing upon you, and you laid down on your bed as you felt all of your energy leave you. You would worry about all of this tomorrow, because you couldn’t keep yourself conscious any longer.

You felt resolved the next morning; you knew what you wanted to do. You would try to talk to Talon one last time. You wanted him to tell you directly he hated you, that he wanted nothing to do with you, something. He had been sending you so many mixed signals that you wanted a straight answer for once. You would be hurt to hear him tell you that he didn’t care for you at all, but then you would know. Then you could stop deluding yourself and clinging to a fruitless hope.

Now that you knew he worked for Du Couteau, you had an idea of where you could find him. The Du Couteau estate was huge, and likely housed many members of the general’s faction, and you were hoping that included Talon. You had to give it one last try. Whatever happened today, your life in Noxus was over.

You knew that it would not be long before the news spread of your parents’ failed attempt on the general’s life, and as their kin, you knew a target would be on your head. You had maybe a full day at the most to grab what you could and flee Noxus before the general’s loyalists stormed your home to claim your head as a prize to present to the general.

You knew that to go to the Du Couteau compound was essentially walking into a den of hungry wolves, but getting one last chance to talk to Talon was worth it to you. You just hoped that it wouldn’t cost you your life.

You bathed and changed into something more presentable before you began to set aside everything you would need to leave this place behind forever. If you had as little time as you thought you did, it would help to have your things ready to grab and go as soon as you returned. You packed lightly for the short trip to the Du Couteau estate, bringing along a single dagger for protection but hoping that you wouldn’t need to use it.

You tried to calm yourself down during the walk over, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were walking to your own execution. You had no idea what would happen when you got there, but you intended to stick to your decision. You wanted to see Talon one last time, if only to say goodbye.

You approached the estate to find two burly guards talking amongst themselves, both garbed in Noxian military uniforms. They didn’t look approachable by any stretch of the imagination, but you didn’t have anything to lose. If they told you to leave, you likely wouldn’t be able to push it.

You forced yourself to at least put on a façade of confidence as you approached the men. You could tell that they were appraising you as you came obviously within their notice, assumedly assessing whether or not you were a threat. You hoped that you looked innocent enough, despite the dagger that you had hidden on your person.

“What’re ya here for?” one of the men asked as he stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at you.

Your mouth felt dry as you realized that you hadn’t really planned what you would say to them. You couldn’t just come out of the gate and say you were here to see an assassin who may or may not live here.

You were taking too long to answer, and the other man raised a hand to rest it on the hilt of the sword at his waist in a threatening manner. “If you don’t have business with the general, I will ask you only once to leave.”

“She has business with me,” a sultry voice rang out as a hand was placed on your shoulder from behind.

You looked back quickly to see Katarina Du Couteau standing behind you, brushing a loose strand of crimson hair out of her face with the hand that wasn’t on your shoulder. She didn’t return your startled glance, staring ahead at the guards with her eyebrow raised impatiently, lips curled downwards in a frown.

The guards’ posture became rigid immediately, and they almost tripped over themselves to open the gate for you. Katarina brushed past you and walked toward the gate, turning back and gesturing for you to follow her when she noticed that you were still frozen in place. You were just making all sorts of dangerous decisions today, but she didn’t seem to be posing a threat to you at the moment, so you followed her onto the grounds of the estate.

She didn’t head into the large building, instead leading you into a small garden at the side of the estate. You didn’t see anyone around, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Katarina was a hard woman to read, and you were still trying to wrap your head around why she had helped you out with the guards in the first place.

“I really should kill you,” she said as she examined her nails, before her eyes snapped up to meet yours with a smirk on her lips. “But lucky for you, I’m enjoying seeing a little crack in Talon’s armor at last.”

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, not wanting to provoke her into putting her initial statement into action.

“Don’t bother pretending,” she laughed. “I know Talon, and he doesn’t stick his neck out for anybody. But he protected you, and I want to know why.”

Her voice was light and conversational, a complete departure from yesterday when she had come at you with everything she had. You didn’t have to explain things to her, but her words gave you hope that maybe she would have some insight into why Talon was acting the way he was. And so you told her your story, probably more than you needed to, but it felt good to let someone in on your secrets. She listened with a thoughtful look on her face, and didn’t interrupt once, even as you described what you found in your parents’ office, and what had led up to you rushing to the war command hall the previous night.

“So he had a childhood sweetheart,” Katarina replied at last, looking smug.

“Um, I don’t think we were…” you trailed off, feeling yourself get flustered.

“That’s not what he thinks,” she refuted smoothly. “I have never seen him protect anyone weaker than him without being ordered to by my father.”

You flinched slightly at being called weak to your face, but Katarina didn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just a fact. It was the Noxian way to be brutally honest, and you couldn’t deny her assertion anyways. Even with all your training, you were a long ways off from the likes of her and Talon.

You were about to reply, but closed your mouth when you heard her click her tongue. You quickly noticed that it wasn’t directed at you; she was looking at a spot over your shoulder, and you turned your head back to see a man exiting the estate through the front doors.

“You should probably leave now,” she muttered lowly. “That’s one of my father’s advisors. He can never mind his own business.”

She began to walk back towards the gate, and you hastened to match her pace. If she didn’t like the guy, and she was on the same side as him, then you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

As you approached the gate, Katarina signalled for the guards to let you through.

“I’ll tell Talon you came by,” she told you, sounding pleased with herself.

“Okay,” you told her, feeling unable to tell her of your immediate plans to leave Noxus as soon as you left here. As you waved goodbye to her and began your journey home, you decided that you would be willing to wait the rest of the day to see if you could see Talon. You could only hope that Katarina would be able to convince him to see you.

You weren’t sure what you had expected to happen, but having girl talk with Katarina Du Couteau was definitely not something you had expected. You took the time on your walk home to mull over her words. Talon was important to you; he had kept you company as a lonely child and protected you as an adult. But Katarina’s words had awoken something that you were embarrassed that you hadn’t even considered. All this time you had been telling yourself that you wanted to seek Talon out because he represented a happy moment to you as a child. But when you thought of him now, you saw his handsome profile in your mind, and felt the residual tingles on your skin that you felt whenever you heard his voice.

You were so in your head that your body was on autopilot, pushing open the door to your house and failing to notice that the door wasn’t locked. You only broke out of your thoughts when the door to the living room was closed right after you entered… but not by you.

You realized immediately that you were surrounded. A large man garbed in black stood behind you, blocking the door and forcing you to move towards the center of the room to get away from him. There was really nowhere for you to run, as there were at least fifteen men scattered around the room. They all seemed to defer to one man who stood facing you, his shoulders squared confidently. Looking around, you didn’t recognize a single one of them. You didn’t think Du Couteau would send his men after you so soon, but here you were. Though the men looked a little rougher than what you would expect of those who served under the general, so you weren’t sure what to make of the situation other than it was not good for you.

The leader stepped forward, and you were unnerved by the way his eyes roved over your body in a way that made you feel entirely too exposed. You wanted to back away from him, but with his lackey right behind you, that wasn’t an option either.

The leader grinned at your panic. “I’m here to honor our deal.”

“Deal?” you retorted. “I don’t even know you!”

“That ain’t my problem,” he replied dismissively. “We made a deal with your parents. We give ‘em the men and supplies, and they give us their precious daughter.”

“My parents are dead!” you said angrily, shocked and infuriated by your parents’ actions. “What they promised has nothing to do with me!”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, and you watched warily as the men around him began to slowly come towards you in an effort to fully cage you in. “I lost a lot of men in that plan of theirs. You got a lot of work to do for this exchange to have been worth my time.”

He wasn’t even listening to you, or he just didn’t care. And his lecherous gaze was sending unpleasant chills along your skin. Looking around, you saw very little ways out of this. Why couldn’t they have waited one more day, when you would have been long gone? Your only advantage would be that you knew your house better than they did.

You couldn’t fight them, not as outnumbered as you were. But you might have a chance to outrun them. Your parents had made this house their fortress, as it had very few weaknesses, but that also meant that there were very few escape routes for you. The men were still advancing slowly on you, and you hoped that you could use the element of surprise to get away from them. There was a small gap between two of the men that led to the stairs up, and you knew there was a window at the end of the long hallway. If you could get out of that window, you could use your speed to get away from them and out of the city. You would have to play this smart.

If you waited a second longer, you would lose your opportunity, so you dashed at the gap with everything you had. They clearly weren’t expecting that, and you were easily able to run to the stairs to a chorus of shouts from the group of men behind you. You heard the leader scream at his men to follow you, and then the air exploded with the sounds of many footsteps following you. But you knew that you were fast, so you continued running as fast as you could. The window was within your sight, and you couldn’t look back now. This was your only option for escape.

You clearly hadn’t thought things through fully as you stumbled with a scream as pain burst in your leg. You turned back to face your pursuers in shock, which was all the time they needed to shoot you again, this time the bullet impacted your chest, just above your heart, and the pain winded you. They were still pretty far behind you, but you couldn’t make it out of the window now, not as injured as you were. The pain was so intense that you could barely think, and you were running out of options.

You had one last option, you realized, as you noticed that you were right next to your parents’ safe room. It wasn’t an escape, but the lock on the room was incredibly tough to crack unless you knew the combination. The men continued to shoot at you, but you were able to punch the passcode in with shaking fingers and crack the door open just enough for you to slip in, the door shutting tightly behind you.

You fell to the floor immediately, the pain raging intensely. You cursed yourself for not noticing that they had guns. You were so close to escaping, and you had botched it. Your consciousness was fuzzy at best, and you knew that you didn’t have the concentration required to call upon your powers to heal yourself, not when it was all you could do to remain conscious. You heard the sounds of gunfire against the door, and the yelling and swearing of the men just outside the room, but it all faded to nothing as you watched blood run from your leg as you began to feel your consciousness drift farther away.

It had been an easy mission. For a trained assassin, his target had been sloppy. He was nothing but weaknesses, his defences so thin that Talon felt like he was felling an injured animal. The targets that were a challenge were always more satisfying, and this one had been a disappointment, both to Talon and likely to whoever had trained him in his mediocre skills.

Talon was silent as he returned to the Du Couteau estate. He didn’t often conduct assassinations in the daytime, usually preferring the cover of night, but he obeyed his orders. General Du Couteau was not a patient or forgiving man, and his orders were absolute. It was the life that Talon had lived for so long that he was used to it. But you were different; you didn’t choose the life of a ruthless assassin, and he had to keep you away from his world.

He never thought that he would see you again. When you had stopped coming to meet him at the bridge, he didn’t know what to think. Eventually, he had accepted that he was on his own and would stay that way. At least until he was defeated by Du Couteau and then joined his ranks.

The only things he knew about you were the bits and pieces that he remembered you telling him when you were children. You had been a brief ray of light in the pitch black of his world. Just like back then, you had healed him without asking for anything in return, which he had never experienced from anyone else in his life.

You were as pure of a soul as they came in Noxus, and Talon had never worked a legitimate job in his life. He had grown up on the streets, thieving and killing when he had to in order to survive. He couldn’t involve you in the danger he faced on a regular basis, and he had pushed you away at every turn to ensure that you stayed away. But he couldn’t figure out why you continued trying to get close to him. Even when he had admitted to being involved with Katarina, who had killed your parents, you had tried to reach out to him. And he had run like a coward.

Every time he thought about you, he felt frustrated. Why were you trying so hard to get close to him after all he had done? He wanted you as far away from this world as possible, even if it meant that you would be far from him as well. He would suppress the part of him from childhood that wanted to let you in and do what he had to do to keep you safe.

As usual, the guards opened the gates for Talon as soon as they saw him. He had a reputation, and both parties preferred if they didn’t have to interact. Not many people went out of their way to talk to him, not when he was one of the three most talented blademasters in the Du Couteau house, and certainly the least friendly.

His plan to head directly to his room was thwarted immediately by one of the few people who did talk to him, despite how little he cared to make casual conversation. Katarina stood just inside the gate, arms crossed and gaze locked on him as if she had been waiting for him to arrive, which was unusual for her unless her father had asked her to pass information on to him. The likelihood of receiving information from the general by way of his daughter was the sole reason his feet stopped in front of her.

She looked pleased with herself, and Talon knew that was a bad sign, especially when she opened her mouth. “Your girl was just here.”

Talon glared at her. Katarina didn’t need to say your name; they both knew who she was talking about. Talon was both impressed and irritated with your courage; coming directly to enemy territory to try and see him was a very dangerous decision. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to get you to understand that he wasn’t a good man, and certainly wasn’t worth all the danger he would add to your life just by being in it.

“You should go see her,” Katarina pressed. “She’ll never understand if you just keep acting like a jerk. If you’re not into her, then you’re leading her on by treating her like this.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” he snarled back, the anger clear in his voice. Why was she trying to get so involved in his personal life?

“It concerns her,” Katarina replied back. “What if she comes back here again, Talon? You were lucky I was here. Anyone else would have killed your little girlfriend on the spot.”

Sparks flew in the air between the two assassins. Katarina was grating on his nerves with her nosiness and refusal to back down. Talon was angry, but as little as he wanted to entertain this nonsense right now, at the back of his mind, he had to admit that she was right. He couldn’t let you keep trying to come to find him here. He needed to give you one last shove to keep you away from him. He felt his mood souring, but before he or Katarina could say anything further, their attention was drawn to a commotion at the front gate.

Talon and Katarina both turned to look as the gate opened and one of the house’s messengers rushed in. It was unusual to see the messengers be in such a rush, as there weren’t many emergencies occurring due to the general’s overprepared nature. The messenger was headed to the estate, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the two assassins staring right at him.

He bowed hastily, and Katarina rolled her eyes, prompting him to just spill his news instead of wasting further time. “I was sent to observe the traitors’ house for any movements.”

“…and?” Katarina implored him impatiently.

The man nodded his head too many times; it wasn’t unusual for people to be nervous in Katarina’s presence, but as soon as Talon had heard that it was related to your parents, he was ready to cut the man’s tongue out if he didn’t get on with it.

“There were suspicious movements by a group thought to be allied with the traitors. They broke the lock and entered the home just before the traitor’s daughter returned home. I suspected that they were regrouping their forces to plot against us again, but then I heard gunshots and a woman’s screams, so it seems they’ve turned on each other,” the man reported.

Talon’s ire turned to alarm as he heard the report. You had nothing to do with your parents’ treachery, so that could only mean that one of their disgruntled allies had decided to come after you for their failures. He didn’t have a complete idea of your combat abilities, but he doubted they would be enough for you to take out a group of armed men.

He didn’t spare a moment, immediately running at the estate’s wall and leaping over it, jumping from building to building as he rushed to get to your home as fast as possible. Talon hadn’t felt desperation like this in a long time; he always ensured that situations were under his control, but the thought of you in mortal peril had spurned his feet faster than his mind could keep up with. Here he had been trying not to involve you in his dangerous world, and yet danger had found you anyways. He felt no pity for the men that would soon die by his blade; he could almost feel the steel pulsing with hunger for their blood for even daring to be near you. He could only hope that he wouldn’t arrive too late.

Meanwhile, Katarina watched Talon disappear before turning to the flustered messenger without batting an eye. “No need to report this to my father. I’ll see him myself after we handle this.”

The messenger looked relieved to not have to report to the general himself, but that wasn’t Katarina’s concern. It would be much more convenient for Talon for her father to not hear information related to you. As the man left, Katarina smiled to herself; who did Talon think he was fooling with his uncaring façade? Him rushing immediately to your aid told her more about his true feelings than any of his words had.

But in her brief conversation with you, Katarina had found that she liked you. It was certainly more than dreary around here with all the serious men her father surrounded himself with, and she personally wouldn’t mind having you around again, especially if she got to see Talon acting all lovesick. Talon would likely need help if he wanted to rescue you quickly, so Katarina left the estate as well, following right behind her agitated fellow assassin.

She caught up to him just in time to watch him surveying the scene from the building next to your house. They could both see a group of well-muscled goons patrolling the first floor, but no sign of you.

“Do you think they killed her?” Katarina asked.

Talon’s worry wasn’t strong enough to overpower his battle sense. These men wouldn’t stay at the house if they had accomplished their goal already, which meant that you were likely still somewhere in the house. Talon didn’t need to say his thoughts out loud as Katarina could see the same thing he could.

“I’ll take care of the ones on the first floor,” Katarina asserted, and then they were off.

They both jumped in through an open window, and Katarina stopped to face the group of men. “Hope you boys are ready to dance.”

As Katarina jumped towards them, daggers at the ready, Talon used the distraction to turn invisible and run past them and to the upper level of the house. The sounds of the fighting going on downstairs began to fade, and Talon’s invisibility wore off as he emerged at the start of a long hallway. He didn’t see you anywhere, but zeroed in on several men beating against a door at the end of the hallway.

“Shoot it down if you have to!” one of the men screamed, his face red with fury. “That bitch can’t hide forever!”

“She won’t last long either way with those bullets we got in her!” another man replied with a loud laugh.

Talon didn’t wait a second longer after hearing the men’s words. He moved silently down the hallway, and the men were none the wiser until the sharp end of his blade met the flesh of the leader’s neck, and with one smooth movement, the man’s head had been removed and rolled a few feet down the hall before he could even scream. Blood spurted from his neck as his body fell to the floor, both of his companions screaming when they saw what the furious assassin had done to their boss.

They raised their guns to shoot at Talon, but he was faster, leaping through the men in an instant, the blades on his cape dicing their flesh at the same time he cleaved their heads off their necks to join their leader’s on the floor. Talon didn’t like to be messy, but he needed them dead as fast as possible, and no matter who these lowlifes were, there was no way for them to come back from decapitation.

But if what they had said was true, you didn’t have time to wait. He would have to get to you immediately.

You had been in and out of consciousness, half-feeling like you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to get up, but then realizing that the voice was just a hallucination that your delirious brain had created. By now, your blood had run down your clothes and pooled under you. You knew that you couldn’t lose much more, but that mattered less to you when you knew that you had no power to help yourself. At least you would die on your own terms, far enough from those men that you could die in peace, even if you were in horrendous pain.

You didn’t know how long you had been in the safe room for when the screaming started. You thought it was in your head at first, but the noises continued for a few seconds until it stopped and everything went quiet. You couldn’t heard the men’s voices or them pounding on the door. It seemed impossible to think that they had given up, but even if they did, you couldn’t stand up with your injuries. You were as good as dead.

You felt another wave of intense fatigue hit you just as you heard a new sound from outside the room… a shout of your name. You were willing to write it off until your name was called again, followed by a sound of something impacting the door. The voice sounded so familiar and comforting to you, but you couldn’t place why. It took one more shout of your name to finally put the pieces together in your fuzzy brain.

“Talon!” you cried out, surprised at how rough your voice sounded.

There was a short pause on the other side of the door. “Open the door!”

“I can’t…” you replied sadly. “I can barely–”

You were cut off by another wave of drowsiness, barely able to keep yourself awake this time, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Give me the code!” Talon growled back, sounding desperate.

How was he even here? You still felt like this was a cruel dream. Couldn’t you just die without your brain giving you false hope that you would see Talon one last time?

“The code!” he shouted, his words finally knocking enough sense into you that you were able to focus on listing the numbers to him.

As soon as you did, the door began to open. But you didn’t have the strength to keep your eyes open any longer, and you collapsed fully to the ground, your neck and the back of your head now laying in your own blood. You felt your head be lifted and placed in someone’s lap, gentle fingers brushing your hair from your face.

You forced your eyes to open and saw Talon’s face above you, his clothing stained with blood that didn’t seem to be his. His eyes were focussed on your face, and he stared at you with a gentleness in his eyes that you had never seen before. His mood notably picked up the moment he noticed you looking up at him.

“You need to heal yourself,” he told you sternly.

You shook your head weakly in response. “Can’t…. I can’t focus…”

Your eyes drifted closed again as you felt your body become more and more numb. You couldn’t hold on any longer. At least you had Talon here with you at the end…

Your eyes shot open with a short gasp against his lips as Talon kissed you. You felt like you had been electrocuted by the shock as his lips pressed harder against your own before pulling away at last.

“You’re awake now, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Heal yourself.”

“Talon, you–”

He ignored you. “Heal yourself!” he demanded, and your brain followed the command at last, calling to the power you didn’t think you could use right now.

You watched as the blue glow that you thought was out of your reach grew in your hand. You lacked the strength, so Talon grabbed your hand, bringing it to your chest and watching closely as the bullet was pushed out as your body repaired itself. When he was satisfied that your chest looked much better, he carefully bent you so your hand could reach your leg wound as well, your magic ejecting the other bullet from your skin as well.

The immediate alleviation of pain came as a huge relief, but you realized that using your powers while you were in such a state was beyond anything that your body could cope with. Before you could even warn Talon, you felt your limbs go slack and your head droop, unconsciousness taking you before you knew if Talon had caught you or not.

Katarina pocketed her daggers, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sauntered upstairs after Talon. Those guys had been all muscle and no skill; she would almost have felt bad if she were a better person. But they were in the way, so they died. They were allied against her father anyways, so there was a likely chance she had just crossed an item off of her to-do list a little early.

Katarina encountered no one until she reached a long hallway, and it was immediately clear that Talon had been here. There were small pools of blood that led to three men, or what was left of them. Their heads had been sliced clean off of their necks and had rolled to various parts of the hallway. Katarina paid them no mind; the sight was no shock to a person like her. Once she got to the bodies, she noticed a door that was slid halfway open that caught her attention.

Walking silently up to the partially-open door, she was able to clearly see Talon kneeling on the floor with your body in his arms. Katarina placed a hand on the door, slowly opening it so she wouldn’t startle him as she entered the room.

“Is she dead?” Katarina didn’t bother to mince words.

Talon looked over at her before carefully standing up with you in his arms. “No. She healed herself in time, but she passed out from blood loss.”

“So you’re bringing her back with us?” Katarina pressed, turning back to leave the room, already assured of his answer before he could say it.

Talon didn’t reply, but followed her into the hall. Katarina began to open doors in the hall, leaving Talon to stare at her, unimpressed that she was wasting time with whatever she was doing.

Katarina caught his stare and raised an eyebrow in return as she walked into one of the rooms. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re both drenched in blood. Unless you want her to wear bloody clothing forever?”

Talon watched Katarina walk over to the bed to look through a bag that was laying there. She rifled through the bag for a few seconds before closing it again and slinging it over her shoulder.

“Looks like your girl was already packed. Guess she was planning to skip town if you didn’t come see her,” Katarina surmised.

“Are you finished?” Talon replied coldly, walking past the room and towards the front door, Katarina easily catching up to him.

“I’ll take this to your room,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the bag she carried. “You might want to take the long way back unless you want people to think you’re walking around with a dead body.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, heading through the door and back to the estate on her own. She was right; there was no way he could scale buildings while carrying you. He stuck to alleyways and less populated areas to not bring more attention to your situation, but he felt relieved that he could see your chest rise and fall slowly as he walked. You had come so close to death that he thought he wouldn’t be able to save you. Having you here in his arms, alive, had calmed his restless soul. His lust for blood sated with the deaths of your attackers.

He had been putting so much effort into pushing you away that he had left you alone and vulnerable. He could only hope that you hadn’t lost too much blood before you had healed your wounds. You were pale, much more than was healthy, but there wasn’t much he could do other than take you somewhere safe and hope that you would wake up.

The walk back was eventless; the few people to cross Talon’s path quickly backed up and fast walked in whatever direction they had come from. He was used to that behavior already, given his intimidating stature and ever-present glower. But he was forced to admit that he did look like some sort of crazed murderer as he carried you in his arms, both of you soaked in blood and leaving a trail on the ground behind him as he walked.

It was early in the evening when he arrived back at the estate, the setting sun falling behind him. Katarina must have warned the guards that he was coming, because they had made themselves scarce. Talon adjusted your body against his shoulder as he pushed the gate open with his other arm.

He took the usual way to his room, heading to a side entrance. Not many people were allowed to be on Du Couteau property, let alone live within the walls of the towering estate, so there was not likely to be anyone in his path. Talon’s room was even more secluded, in a wing where no one else resided, so he always had plenty of space to himself. General Du Couteau put a lot of faith in him, and rewarded his loyalty and skilled service. But even if the rooms in Talon’s wing of the estate were available, his reputation kept people away for fear of angering him.

Talon scoffed at the notion; he would not simply strike someone down for being on estate grounds, not without an order from the general. But he preferred the solitude his area of the estate offered, so the paranoia was convenient for him, especially now as he carried you into his room.

Katarina was looking out of the window, but turned to look at him as he entered. “Took you long enough. You can put her down and then wait outside.”

Talon glared at her, not understanding what she meant, and she laughed. “She needs her clothes changed, so unless you were planning on stripping her yourself…?”

Katarina didn’t need to finish her sentence to know that Talon had at last gotten her drift. Whereas normally he would have argued with her, he walked over to gently lay you on the bed, turning and walking a few paces away and crossing his arms, but not leaving the room.

“Suit yourself,” Katarina scoffed at the overprotective assassin as she began to remove your bloody clothing.

Talon kept his back to the scene, knowing that Katarina was getting a little too much enjoyment out of this. He listened to the sound of his bed creaking, as well as the sounds as different articles of your clothing hitting the floor as Katarina discarded them. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she instructed Talon that he could turn back around.

When he turned back, you were laying on top of the bed in a soft gray dress. Katarina was wiping blood from your forehead with a cloth, your body noticeably less bloody as well. There was still traces of blood in your hair, but it was no longer caked on your skin like dirt. Seeing you looking much cleaner made Talon realize just what a state he was in as well. The scent of blood clung to him, but he was so used to the smell that he was able to easily tune it out.

“She’ll have to bathe to get the rest of the blood off, but I did what I could for now,” Katarina said, leaving the bloody cloth on a table by the bed and making her way to the door. Always eager for the last word, she looked back at Talon when she was halfway out of the door. “Nobody comes by here, so you two can be as loud as you want.”

Katarina left, knowing she wouldn’t get a response from him, heading into the hallway and towards her own area of the estate. Talon began to remove his own blood-stained clothing as his thoughts drifted. Katarina seemed more than willing to keep you a secret, but even if the general knew about you, Talon doubted he would care. As long as he accomplished his missions, the general did not pry into his sparse personal life, and if keeping you here with him was Talon’s price for his service, the general would have no choice but to agree.

Talon did not even entertain the thought of allowing you to go back to your home when you woke up. Without your parents to protect you with their influence, you were incredibly vulnerable to the dregs of Noxian society. Deep within him, Talon wasn’t quite ready to admit that the larger reason for his decision was backed by his desire to keep you by his side.

Talon had never had the desire to be close to someone in a way other than professional respect. General Du Couteau had been the only person to ever defeat him in combat, and so he had agreed to serve under him to learn and improve his own skills. He had moved up from being a skilled thief to become one of the three strongest members of the house of Du Couteau. His time in the service of the general had taken him all over Runeterra to assassinate enemies of the general, and he had never found his life to be lacking, not until he met you again after all your years apart.

Having you here made him want things he had never wanted before. He selfishly, possessively wanted you. His cold demeanor had temporarily held him back from being consumed by his desires, but now that you were here with him, now that there was nothing holding him back from being with you, his emotions threatened to consume him. And while he could assume what you felt, he hadn’t heard it from your own lips… yet.

All he could do was wait and hope that you would recover. He approached the bed, pulling the collar of your dress down to look at your wound. There was only the slightest cut in your skin, not even enough to bleed. Looking at the wound on your leg, he found that it was the same. Katarina had wiped away most of the blood from your injuries, and it was a relief to Talon to see you no longer drowning in your own blood.

He had done all that he could for you at the moment, and so he covered your body with a blanket before leaving his room to do some training. There was no guarantee when you would wake up, but he was reassured that you were somewhere he could keep an eye on you from. Those thugs had been an unfortunate happening, but he would do much worse to anyone that dared to attack you from now on. Very few had ever survived an encounter with the blade’s shadow, and he had no mercy for those who got in his way.

You saw your mother and father. Somewhere in your mind, you knew that shouldn’t be possible; they were dead. You began to wonder if this meant that you were dead as well. The last thing that you remembered was Talon finding you in the safe room… and kissing you.

Your parents didn’t say anything, just stared at you, their faces slowly changing from healthy to gray and dead. You backed away from them as their eye sockets bled black and they stared at you with blame in their eyes. You wanted to run, but found that you couldn’t move. Their deathly figures got closer and closer, and you flinched, closing your eyes as they were almost upon you, but instead finding yourself embraced from behind, a familiar scent engulfing you.

You heard your name being called by his voice, soft in your ear. Talon…

You still couldn’t move, but you wanted so badly to turn around and see him. To kiss him again. To be by his side.

He had shown more care for you in the short amount of time with you than your parents had in your entire life. You felt overwhelmed with desire to see his face, to be able to hold him back. But this wasn’t real, and the ghostly touch against you wasn’t him. You had to wake yourself up. You had to see Talon again.

You realized that your eyes were closed, and your head felt clear. You opened your eyes at last to see soft light filtering in through a window and no shadowy figures around you. You didn’t recognize the room you found yourself in, but considering you weren’t shackled to the bed, you had to be somewhere safe.

You sat up in the bed, which caused a damp cloth on your forehead to fall into your lap. You picked it up, staring at the simple navy blue fabric that reminded you so much of Talon. Was it too much to hope that it was him who had brought you here?

Running a hand through your messy hair, you were disgusted to find flecks of dried blood on your fingers. As you wiped the specks of blood off on the cloth, your full situation came back to you. You were surprised that you were even alive with how severe your wounds had been. You had been prepared to die in that room, a casualty to the ambitions of your parents.

The door to the room opened as you had pulled back the blanket to look at your injures. You looked over to see Talon pushing the door open, wearing more casual clothing than you had seen him in before. He wore a simple pair of black pants and a dark blue shirt which stretched over the muscles of his arms in a way that made you nervously avert your eyes.

Talon paid your sudden shyness no mind, walking over to your bedside as soon as he noticed you were awake. You weren’t sure where to look, so you settled for staring at your hands as they rested in your lap. You noticed a spot of dried blood on one palm that you had missed and began to scrape it off with a fingernail. You were probably too focused on the task, and only stopped when Talon put a hand over yours to move your hands apart.

You looked up at him at last, and he only removed his hand from yours when you met his eyes. You had been so desperate to see him, but having him be by your bedside like this was making it hard for you to function, especially with how casually he was dressed. He was so effortlessly handsome, and here you were all dirty, your hair matted with blood and skin clammy from sleeping off your injuries. The thought sent your gaze downwards again as you began to feel self-conscious.

“How long was I asleep for?” You cringed at how dry and raspy your voice sounded.

“A week,” Talon answered, reaching down to tilt your chin up to face him when you didn’t reply to him. “Are you still in pain?”

“No,” you replied at last, the closeness of his face driving your heart rate up, especially considering you now knew how long you had been asleep for. You must look pretty bad right now, and that wasn’t even touching on how you must smell at the moment.

“Can… can I have a bath?” you asked, your voice coming out as more of a squeak.

Chancing a look at Talon’s face, he didn’t seem to be annoyed with you. In fact, he looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him. At your words, his hand drifted from your chin to brush gently over your tangled hair, and you desperately fought against the urge to shy away from his hand. The moment only lasted a few seconds, and you found yourself missing his touch as soon as he brought his hand back to his side.

Talon nodded, turning back to pick something up as you eased your way out of the bed, your balance a little shaky as you stared at his back. Now that it wasn’t covered by his hood, you had a proper opportunity to admire his hair; it looked much too nice to belong to someone as deadly as he was, and your fingers itched to run through it like he had done to yours. But you didn’t know where you stood with him right now, and feared he might pull away from you if you tried.

Your focus was then put on a small basket that was handed to you. Looking at it, you found what looked like various soaps and bathing oils, which was not something you imagined that Talon would have had lying around.

You looked at him in surprise, and he caught your train of thought immediately, giving you a stony look. “Katarina prepared those for you.”

You couldn’t help a giggle. “Sorry. I couldn’t help but imagine you bathing in roses when I saw this stuff.”

His lips twitched up in a smirk. “I see your wounds didn’t affect your brain. What a shame.”

Your mouth dropped open. Was he teasing you? Talon, one of the most deadly men in Noxus, had just implied that you were dumb.

His eyes glimmered with playfulness for a moment before he turned away, not giving you a chance to reply. Not that you could even think of a reply; his sudden teasing had taken the wind right out of your sails. You hadn’t expected that from him, and he had taken full advantage of that fact.

He turned his head to look back at you, and you took that as your cue to follow after him. He led you out of the room and to a room a few doors down, which turned out to be a bathroom. Talon closed the door behind you, and you waited a few seconds before undressing, realizing that there was no point in listening for his receding footsteps as he had clearly trained himself to move silently.

You turned the tap on, the warm water feeling heavenly on your skin as you sat down in the bath. It was very clear to you how much you needed this bath; as soon as you began to wash yourself, the water grew dirty from the grime and blood that covered your skin and hair. By the time you were done, the water was tinted a light red, which you quickly set to drain. You really didn’t need any more reminders of how gross you had felt prior to the bath.

Putting your clothing back on, you almost felt like a new person. It was an especially big relief that you could finally stop worrying about smelling bad on top of everything else you had to worry about right now.

It was a relief to you when Talon finally went to do some training later on that day. It had taken you some time, but over the day, you had come to a realization; he was definitely flirting with you. You had been hesitant to believe it at first, but over the course of the day, you could no longer have any doubts.

It had started with him being closer than usual, which was already new for you given how hard he had tried to flee from you over the past while. But now he seemed to take every opportunity available to him to sit near you while sharpening his blades, or brush a hand over your skin while checking your injuries. At first it could have been a coincidence, but you caught the ghost of a smirk on his face too many times for it to be innocent, which led you to accept that he was being like this on purpose. But he hadn’t mentioned the kiss, or tried to kiss you again, no matter how amicable you would be to a repeat of that moment.

You felt like a timid alley cat being offered a piece of fish; you wanted the reward so badly, but were scared to open yourself up and be vulnerable enough to take what you wanted from him. His behavior seemed to give you the impression that he would be open to the idea, but it was hard to work up the nerve, and you were just about reaching your breaking point.

You basically had to insist that he go train for a bit, if only to give your cheeks a break, as there was only so much blushing you could take before you felt your cheeks would burn off. You knew that you couldn’t fool him; he knew exactly why you were so determined that he go do some training, but had gone along with your request. If only you could figure out what to do about the sudden tension before he returned.

You couldn’t think of anything. If you confessed to him outright and he just stared at you, you didn’t think you could take it. But at the same time, you had to get some closure. You couldn’t take any more of Talon’s flirty gestures without knowing what you meant to him, what the kiss had meant to him. In the hour he was gone, the only course of action you could settle on was just asking him why he had kissed you. Then at least you could get an insight into his feelings without putting yourself too far out there.

You rehearsed what you would say again and again in your head, and even a few times out loud. Just as you were beginning to feel like you could do this, the door opened and Talon came in, discarding a few blades of varying sizes on the table, and you almost physically felt your nerve break. You felt his eyes on you immediately, and your rehearsed words fled quickly from your mind. How did you ever think that you could do this?

You couldn’t even move an inch from your seat on the bed, almost too scared to breathe. You couldn’t even look at him, and neglected to recall just how good he was at moving silently until he was right before you, his hand on your shoulder drawing you back into reality.

“Have you finished healing your wounds?” he asked, removing his hand when he knew he had your attention.

You looked down at your chest, pulling your dress back to look at the wound. You had entirely forgotten about it, but allowed the familiar blue glow of your powers to light in your hand as you began to heal the last of your wounds. You had healed them most of the way before, but with one more dose of your magic, they were gone as if you had never been injured at all. As you felt your leg fully heal as well, you looked over to Talon, your focus drawn to a thin cut on his cheek that you had only noticed now that he was so close to you.

Without really thinking about it, you reached a hand up to his face, trailing your fingers in a line down his cheek along the scratch. He kept his eyes on you, putting up no resistance to your touch. As you moved your hand back and his cut fully healed, the intimacy of the gesture finally hit you and you retracted your hand as if you had been burned. Talon remained where he was, and the closeness sent a nervous shiver down your spine.

You tried to even your breathing, hoping that would help you bolster your nerves. You had to know. You would just repeat that to yourself until you could make your mouth move.

“Talon…” You used every bit of your willpower to get the words out. “Why did you kiss me?”

You heard an exhale of breath that sounded suspiciously like laughter from the assassin. “I didn’t recall you being this dumb when we were children.”

“What?” you replied incredulously with a frown. “I was being serious, Talon!”

“So was I,” he replied coyly. “I didn’t think that loud girl I knew would grow up to be so naïve.”

What was he even saying? He was clearly trying to say something, but you were having trouble reading past the insults.

“So you’re not going to answer my question?” you asked with thinly veiled frustration.

He leaned down, his arms on either side of you caging you in. You had nowhere to run unless you were forced to put up with his smug smirk as he leaned down towards you, getting close enough to kiss you but holding himself back just enough for your lips not to touch. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit to his lips, wary of the look in his eyes when he caught you staring.

“If you were paying attention, you would have your answer already,” he said, voice low and more seductive than you had ever heard him sound.

It was taking all you had to keep your eyes on his, especially with how close his lips got to yours with every word he said. You would only have to move an inch and then you would be kissing him again. And with him this close, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wanted this too. In all the time you had known him, you hadn’t known him to do or say things he didn’t mean. He had been teasing you mercilessly all day, and you just wanted to believe that this meant something to him.

“Can you… kiss me again?” you whispered, closing your eyes as you were too nervous to look at his face.

There was a few seconds of silence, and you opened your eyes to see what was happening just in time to see Talon’s face close in on you, his lips connecting with yours as he used his weight to press you down on the bed. You had been too surprised to resist, but you readily welcomed the contact, your fingers gripping at his shoulders as you closed your eyes.

His movements overwhelmed you; before you could even process it, his hand slid over your breasts, fingers closing around one as you tried to keep up with his tongue. You squirmed under him, moving a hand up to finally get a feel of his hair now that you were fairly certain that he wouldn’t mind. You were just wearing a simple dress and a pair of underwear, but the closeness was heating up your body in a way that only removing the suddenly-too-warm clothing from your skin would alleviate.

It was futile to try and predict his movements; you jerked back from the kiss with a moan of his name as he pressed his fingers against your clit, fingers that you hadn’t even realized that he had snuck under your dress. As his hand slipped in your underwear, he took advantage of your exposed throat, leaving heated kisses on your neck. You found yourself fleetingly curious about where he had picked this up, but the thought disappeared as he pulled back to nibble at your ear with his teeth.

He removed his hands from you, leaning his lower body against yours and supporting his weight with his hands. His lips were still at your ear as you felt the hard press of his cock against your lower half.

“You still don’t know why?” he probed, grinding slowly against you, the friction not even close to enough for you right now. “I tried to keep you away from the way I live, the people I kill. But you were more persistent than I thought.”

“Talon…” you whispered, wishing he would just press a little harder, but he stayed frustratingly light and slow with each roll of his hips into yours.

“You chased after me, so now you can’t complain about what I do to you,” he growled in your ear, his words making you shudder with anticipation.

His fingers crept back under your dress, and you spread your legs as much as you could with him still on top of you to give him room. You blushed as you realized just how wet you were as Talon’s attention moved from your clit to press a finger inside you with ease.

You cried out at the intrusion, pulling his face down to yours so you could feel his tongue against yours again. He seemed more than happy to kiss you breathless as he added another finger, reaching so deep within you that it was making you curl your toes until they began to hurt. You felt like you could barely keep up with the kiss anymore, but Talon’s focus did not waver.

The cotton of his shirt began to brush uncomfortably against you, and you tugged at it, unable to verbalize your request due to how thoroughly he was kissing you. The tugging got his attention and he pulled back at last, looking all too pleased with himself, ripping his shirt off with one hand while the other continued to pump in and out of your pussy. With him now on his knees on the bed, you finally got a look at what was pressing against you earlier.

Talon’s cock was straining noticeably against his trousers, and the sight made your tongue dart out to nervously run along your lower lip. Talon caught you staring easily, and his fingers began to curl inside you, the sensation making you flutter your eyes closed with a moan. Only when you felt a noticeable draft did you realize that he had taken advantage of your distracted state to slide your underwear off completely and discard them on the floor.

You were warm, way too warm, and Talon allowed you to push his fingers away from you so you could sit up as best you could and shimmy your dress up your body. You felt somewhat shy, but you were so overheated at the moment that you couldn’t keep your dress on any longer if you didn’t want to spontaneously combust. It also didn’t hurt to watch Talon’s eyes hungrily follow your movements, and when you noticed him about to dive back against you, you held up a hand, deciding to be cheeky.

“Not until you take off your pants,” you said, staring at him with a challenge in your eyes.

Talon’s eyes looked dark as he reached towards the clasp of his pants, knowing he had your attention fully captured. He didn’t leave you waiting, discarding his pants quickly and leaving him as bare as you were.

He leaned back down, your faces almost touching. “When we do this, you’ll be mine. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, and he took your legs in his hands, bringing them around his waist.

He needed no further convincing, and you felt the prod of his cock, which felt so much better without any layers of clothing in the way. You had no coherent words as he began to sink into you easily given you were so wet that he didn’t even need to go particularly slow. You arched your back with a gasp, your ears rewarded when Talon let out a quiet groan as he finally bottomed out.

Before you regained your composure, Talon was sliding out and rocking his hips back towards you, shattering what mental facilities you had left. You could do little more than grip at his arms and the bed sheets as you looked up at his dark eyes that were focussed on your own. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning at the feeling, especially when he brushed his thumb just right against your clit, the resulting surge of building pleasure almost overwhelming you.

As you got more and more vocal, you began to notice how responsive he was to every little noise you made. Every moan or cry seemed to make him thrust into you a little harder than usual, and you decided that you wanted to hear him too. He had been largely silent so far, and you wanted to know that he was as affected by this as you were.

You began to roll your hips to meet his, squeezing your inner muscles every time he rocked back into you. Immediately, you noticed a stutter in his breath, and after a few repeats on your part, his eyes narrowed on your face, and he began to slow his pace as he leaned down towards you, his teeth grazing your ear.

“You think you’re getting away with that?” he growled, sending pleasant chills along your skin with his words. “You really are naïve.”

He pulled back from your ear to kiss you deeply at the same time he began to move at a much harsher pace, every movement sending jolts through you and a flush to your face as he began to hit on just the right spot. He was so close to you that his chest pressed against your breasts, the added friction driving you crazy. His hair was finally close enough for you to tug on, the resulting groan he let out only spurning you on to be rougher in return. You were both desperately close, but Talon’s brutal pace did not slow one bit. You made a brief mental note to tease him about his stamina later.

Talon came first, pulling his mouth from yours to bite at your neck as he stilled for only a moment before continuing at a gentler rhythm, his fingers playing with your clit as he bit and sucked at your neck. You tightened your grip on him, your nails biting into his back as he carried you through the waves of pleasure until you fell back on the bed, feeling boneless. Talon was quick to follow, pulling out of you and wrapping an arm around you to keep you close to him.

You brought your hand back to brush some hair away from your face, brows furrowing in confusion when you noticed blood under your nails. It only took you a second to make the connection, and you sat up, quickly looking over Talon’s shoulder at his back.

“Your back– I’m sorry!” you hastily apologized, seeing the thin streaks of blood that dotted his back from your scratches.

You frantically ignited your hand with blue and healed the shallow cuts on his back. You had been so panicked that you only realized afterwards that your position leaning over his back had put your breasts right in his face. You made eye contact with his blank stare, and almost fell off the bed as you pulled away in a hurry, only saved by his strong grip on your arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his face impassive but eyes betraying his mirth.

“I didn’t mean to–” you started, but cut yourself off with a cry as Talon used his grip on your arm to pull you forward to press his lips against yours.

You allowed him to lay you back down next to him as you kissed. You were fully distracted when he pulled back with a smirk.

“Did you really think I’m repulsed by your breasts?” he asked, and you could only answer him with embarrassed stammering.

“Do you need me to prove that I’m not?” he murmured, palming your breasts with his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and making you shudder.

You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the insatiable assassin, kissing him as he flipped you on your back as his touches became rougher. You certainly wouldn’t be escaping him any time soon, and found yourself immensely grateful that there was nobody around to hear the two of you, because it was a while before Talon would let you rest.

#xreader #reader insert #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends talon #lol x reader #smut

144 notes · View notes

jawabear · 4 years

Note

If you are doing requests right now can I request either 15. “It’s just a scratch” “you got stabbed” “it didn’t go that deep though” or 16. “Oh well! Thank god they missed anything vital! It’s not as if you lost a ton of blood or anything” with either Javi or Frankie? Only if you have a chance to get to it. Thank you so much! I love your writing!

Germany 2012 (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Once again, I’m so sorry that this took so long Anon! But I hope you like it! I went with Frankie because I had this idea for a while and I haven’t written for him in a bit. I hope that’s okay. I have no idea how the army works so it’s probably in correct and notice how I didn’t really used a lot of Tom because F that guy. Readers code name is “Wolfgang” don’t ask me why, I just like it. But it doesn’t play a massive part so you can read it as something else if you want :) hope you enjoy! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: fem!reader, injury detail, stabbing, violence, guns, usual army things, mentions of a fear of heights, body self doubt, smutty things, but it’s Frankie so it’s soft

Summary: a mission in Germany back in 2012 set the beginning for their relationship after an unfortunate event

Bullets were flying everywhere from both sides. The men they were after greatly outnumbered, six against what they gather to be 15 or maybe more. All heavily armoured and holding machine-guns that seems to have infinite ammo.

The mission had started out normal for them. An easy recon mission. All they had to do was check the area to find the guy that was dealing in Illegal weapons trading, only to enter if it was clear. As if they were going to follow that, regardless of if it were clear or not they would still go in to look for the guys, find out the information about who he is selling to and then proceed to kill him. But things quickly turned south when one of the guards spotted Santiago as he got into position. The guard had run inside the house yelling that there were intruders and then the shoot out started.

“Fuck, we’ve got to get to higher ground to take these guys down! From this cover we can’t shoot them, we’re to low down” Redfly said down the radio.

“Any one see an vantage point?” Santiago asked.

(Y/N) looked around and spotted a sturdy looking tree to her left, if she could climb it and find a good branch she could take them out easily with her sniper to allow them in. “I’ve found a tree” she reported through her radio “I can get up there and take them out”

“Do it Wolfgang” Ironhead said, she knew that he had nodded but obviously she couldn’t see it.

“Wolfie, you sure?” Catfish asked as he grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving.

She smiled at him and nodded “I’ll be fine Cat” she assured him “cover me”

“You got it” he nodded, releasing her. He continued his shooting and she ran over to the tree he had spotted. She examined it for a moment and began climbing it to perch on the thickest branch she could spot. She lost her footing a few times which strained her wrists as she gripped at its rough bark. She ignored the scratches on her hands and aching in her wrists as she pulled herself up into the branch.

She pulled her sniper from her back and held it in position looking down the scope and lining it up with each member of the gang they were after. Bullet after bullet she shot and they dropped like flies to the ground. “Nice shooting Wolfgang” Pope complimented. She could hear the branch below her crack the longer she stayed there, she tried to pick up her pace but the cracking was starting to worry her.

“The front is clear” (Y/N) spoke down the radio “Redfly, Benny, you’re good to make your approach” she said.

“Making our approach” Redfly told them.

“Cat, Pope, you’ve still got a few ahead, I’ll try and take them out but-“ before she could finish the brach broke out from under her. She was quick to grab the smaller brach above her, her legs gripping the thick truck of the tree “shit” she muttered.

“Shit? Wolfgang what happened?” Catfish asked frantically down the radio.

“The branch snapped” she looked down, she was quite the way up. Her heart pounded against her chest. In all the action she hadn’t realised how far up she really was. She was scared of heights. “Fuck” she panted, her voice shaky as she tried to pulled herself up. She suddenly felt faint, her hands sweating. She managed to pull her self up into the other branch, she grabbed another one above her and tried to steady her breathing as she scoped the men who were still blocking the path for Pope, Catfish and Ironhead. But she couldn’t help but think of how large the distance from the ground to her was. Her hands shaking, she struggled to get a clear shot. “G-guys, I can’t get a clean shot” she said, her voice still shaking “I’m-I’m to h-high up”

“Don’t worry Wolfgang, we got it” Benny cut in. Multiple gun shots were heard and she guessed that the last of the guards on the outside had been taken down.

“Pathway clear, heading into the house” Pope confirmed.

“(Y/N), stay where you are” Cat’s soft voice came through her ear.

“O-okay” she stuttered with a nod she knew he couldn’t see.

He was soon standing at the bottom of the tree “(Y/N), jump” he ordered as he held out his arms.

“Are you crazy?” She questioned him.

“Trust me (Y/N), I’ll catch you, I promise” he assured her. She swallowed thickly and looked down at him. It was such a long way down. She regretted climbing up that damned tree. She gripped the branch tighter in her hand “(Y/N), I swear to you. I’ll catch you”

She took in a deep breath and tried to drop her self down a little bit so the jump wasn’t as high but as she made her decent her foot sleep as she lost grip of the tree and fell. She let out a soft scream as she fell, but she fell against something soft, something that definitely wasn’t the ground.

(Y/N) opened her eyes that she didn’t realise were closed in the first place. Her face pretty much pressed against Frankie’s who lay below her, his arms securely round her waist “I told you I’d catch you” he smiled to her.

“Are you okay?” She asked him softly, her hand brushing a few leaves out of his hair.

“Yeah, are you?” He asked in the same tone, his eyes flicking between hers.

“Mhm” She hummed as she nodded.

“Alright guys, enough playing around, get in here” Pope’s stern voice came in their ears.

The two laughed softly and she rolled off him. They both stood and made their way into the large house. They all regrouped in the large living room that was completely empty, they made sure she was okay and she assured them that she was.

“No cars have left since we got here and we knew he was here. He’s not among the dead so he has to be in here somewhere. He’s clearly hiding” Ironhead summarised the game plan “find him, secure him, we get the information and we take him out”

“Right” everyone nodded and went their separate ways throughout the house being careful not to make a sound.

The floors seemed to creak loudly due to the silence through out the large house, one small noise seemed to echo in every room. She gripped her pistol tightly in her hand as she scanned every room she passed, making sure to check for any off looking areas or enclosed spaces that he could be hiding in.

She made her way into what appeared to be one of the many bedrooms. She looked under the bed and between the sheets, and he wasn’t there. She looked inside the walk in wardrobe and he wasn’t there either. There was another freestanding wardrobe on the other side of the room. She thought it was strange and cautiously walked over to it, but he wasn’t there either. She let out a huff and turned to walk out of the room but then see heard wood scraping across the floor. She turned sharply and saw their target emerge from behind the wardrobe.

Before she could reach for her gun she head the flicking of a knife and the target charged at her. (Y/N) was a master in hand-to-hand combat but she was too caught of guard to gain her composure and fight back. The knife went straight through her side making her groaned.

As he charged at her, his shoulder rammed right into her chest knocking her back wards but she instinctively grabbed hold of him pulling with words to her and she stumbled backwards into the landings barrier. Breaking through the weak wooden beams, the two tumbled down to the floor below them, she landed on an awkward angle, her arm was definitely out of place but she tried to ignore it.

She managed to flip them over and climb on top of him. (Y/N) held him to the floor her hands wrapped around his neck and her knees trapping his arms, the knife long forgotten back upstairs.

“Guys, I got him” she spoke through the radio “by the door”

“Coming to you” Pope said.

She heard footsteps racing towards her and they all appeared, guns at the ready “nice job Wolfgang” Redfly complimented.

She got off him and pulled him up to his knees, Benny got behind him and tied his hands being his back. (Y/N) stepped away for a moment, she placed her hand on her side where the knife had cut into her, she knew it wasn’t going to kill her but it certainly wouldn’t do her any good if she left it bleeding out. She grabbed a bandage from her belt and lifted her shirt slightly, the others were too busy with the interrogation to notice her injury. She hissed in pain slightly as she wrapped the bandage around herself. It was at this point that she began to realise the pain in her arm. As well her wrists from climbing the tree. She grit her teeth and jumped slightly at the gun shot. A body hit the ground.

She looked at saw the Redfly had put a bullet in their targets head, none of them seemed bothered so she guessed they had got everything they needed. She pushed herself off the wall and stumbled a little bit.

“I think we’re good to go” Pope announced with a nod. Everyone else agreed and they soon left the house and made their way back to the large car they had arrived in.

She tried to hide her pain on the drive back but she could feel her blood seeping into the bandage and spreading. Her head fell back against the car and her hand went to her hip “You okay there Wolfgang?” Benny asked, Frankie snapped his head in her direction.

She lifted her head and gave him a soft smile “Yeah, I’m fine” she assured softly. She lifted her hand seeing it was stained red with her blood “just a scratch”

“That’s more then just a fucking scratch (Y/N)” Frankie stated firmly. He carefully lifted her shirt seeing it was almost black with blood, most of it drying already “Santiago, we need to hurry. (Y/N)’s hurt” he spoke down the radio to the driver.

“Right, on it” Santiago agreed.

“I’m fine Frankie” she strained, she jolted back slightly when his finger traced over her wound “I’m pretty sure it missed anything vital. It didn’t go that deep”

“Oh well! Thank god they missed anything vital! It’s not like you’ve lost a ton of blood or anything. Not like you’re going to bleed out here is it” he retorted sharply making her feel more guilty then she already did. He grabbed her hand and held it firmly against her side in hopes to slow the bleeding.

It didn’t take them long to get back to the safe house they had been assigned to. Frankie lifted her into his arms bridal style and brought her into the house, placing her on the sofa and lifting her shirt up further.

Ironhead took his place, taking over with cleaning her wound. All the others could do was watch. “Why didn’t you fucking say anything?” Benny asked angrily.

“By the time I realised we were already fucking leaving” she said back to him. A lie of course.

“But you had enough time to bandage yourself up!” Santiago yelled “you should’ve fucking said something”

She didn’t respond to them, she pressed her lips together and looked away from the to Will who had finished up with bandaging her now clean wound “luckily, you’re right. It did miss anything vital. You’re going to be fine Wolfie” he assured her.

“Thanks Will” she thanked him with a soft smile. She went to push herself up but used her damaged arm and it sent her right back down to her back. She whimpered and hissed at the strange pain that shot through her arm.

“What is it (Y/N)?” Frankie panicked as he came to her side next to Ironhead.

“I landed on my arm when I caught the bastard. Fell from the second floor to the first” she explained through gritted teeth.

They carefully pulled her up to a sitting position and Frankie ran his hand over her shoulder lightly feeling that it was dislocated. “We got to push it back in place” he said.

“Oh fuck” she sighed. The two boys swapped sides. Will put his hand onto her shoulder and Frankie grabbed her hand giving her something to squeeze when Ironhead popped her shoulder back into place.

“You ready?” Will asked her.

“Just do it” she said, her grip tightening on Frankie’s hand.

“Alright. 3...2...-“

“Shit!” She groaned out as he popped her arm back into place.

“There” Will said “should be back to normal now, just try not to move it to much for now”

“Thanks Will” She thanked him again. Always thanking him for something. She looked to Frankie and gave him a soft smile and released his hand. She stood, she looked to Pope and Benny who stood looking away from her, “I’m going to take a shower” she announced quietly as she left the room. She held her side as she walked down the hall into the bedroom she had been staying in the past two nights.

It was dark by the time she had showered, taking her time due to her injured arm and side. She hand re-wrapped the bandage around her side and began putting her clothes on when the door opened and Frankie walked in. He quickly backed out when he saw she was just in nothing but a pair of shorts. Luckily, her back was too him. His face was bright red. She let out a soft giggle and pulled on a loose fitting shirt before walking to her door and opening it.

“Hey Cat” she smiled. He jumped slightly and turned to face her.

“Sorry (Y/N), I should’ve knocked” he apologised.

“It’s okay” she chuckled and waved off his apology. She stepped to the side and allowed him into her room, closing the door behind him.

“How you feeling?” He asked her as he sat on the foot of her bed.

“Alright” she shrugged as she sat beside him “as good as one can feel after they’ve been stabbed” she laughed.

“I’m sorry for the way Santiago and Benny spoke to you earlier. And...I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. We were just...scared. Scared that it could’ve turned out a lot worse then it did”

“It’s okay Frankie. I know they didn’t mean anything by it. I know you didn’t mean anything by it either. All of you were just looking out for me, and I greatly appreciate that. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I thought I had it sorted..”

He rested his hand on her bare knee. “You shouldn’t have gone up that tree, you know you’re scared of heights”

She nodded “I know” she admitted “I guess...I was just so caught up in everything that...I just didn’t think. And I feel like I fucked everything up. Getting stabbed, dislocating my arm...falling out a fucking tree...”

“You didn’t fuck anything up” he told her “you got him. No mission is perfect, no one leaves without injury. Remember last time? Santiago crushed his ankle, we had to carry him back, but we got through it”

“Right” (Y/N) managed a small smiled “still, I’m sorry...” she rested her hand on top of his. He flipped his hand over and interlaced his fingers with hers “thanks for catching me” she looked at him, their eyes meeting.

“Of course, I’ll always be here to catch you” he whispered to her.

“Frankie...” she whispered back to him. They slowly leaned closer to each other and soon their lips were touching. She squeezed his hand and lifted her free hand to his cheek.

The kiss was sweet but it didn’t last long. They both pulled away from each other but their foreheads still touching. “(Y/N), I think we’ve been doing this silent dance for a while now”

She smiled at him and giggled “I’m glad we both acknowledge how terrible we are at hiding our feelings” He laughed at this. She bit her bottom lip and looked at him through her lashes “could we..maybe...” she ran her hand down his chest.

“Yes” He said all to quickly “but..I don’t want you to think-“

“I won’t think anything Frankie” she assured him with a soft kiss “we both acknowledged our feelings. And we both want this...right?”

“Yes (Y/N)” he nodded. She smiled and kissed him again. He removed his hand from hers and began working himself out of his jeans, sliding them down his legs and kicking them off. She pulled back from him and moved onto the bed. He stood and pulled off his shirt, dropping it to the ground. She bit her lip again as her eyes raked over his body. He was perfect.

She noticed how his chest was dotted with scars, reminded of missions. Most of them she could also remember, one of them was when he decided to be a human shield for her, jumping in front of a bullet that could’ve killed him.

He crawled onto the bed above her and kissed her again. Her hands found their way into his hair and gently tugged on the strands keeping his head against hers. She hummed against his lips and his tongue dragged across her bottom one. She opened her mouth and their tongues danced together. He ultimately won over her and his wet muscle explored her entire mouth, claiming it as his own. He then pulled back from her lips and trailed his kisses down to her neck. But she didn’t want that, she wanted to taste him more.

She pulled at his hair, his head leaving her neck and he smirked at her before pressing his lips to hers again. His rough hands slipped under her shirt and ran up her body, behind careful to miss her injury. He gently grabbed her breasts in his hands and she moaned softly into his mouth. His thumbs ran over her nipples and she whimpered. He was then quick in pulling of the shirt and tossing it to the floor.

She prevented him from leaving her lips, her eyes squeezing shut, she didn’t want him to see her. She wasn’t exactly proud of her body. She couldn’t see any beauty of it. “Baby,” he whispered against her lips “why won’t you let me see you?” He asked.

“It’s nothing nice to look at” she mumbled.

“Please...” he whispered, barely audible. She swallowed and released him from her arms. He pushed himself up to his knees. Now it was his turn to gaze on her body. He ran his fingers lightly over the few scars she had picked up in her career. Given time, he could probably recall how she got each and everyone. “You’re beautiful (Y/N)” he whispered down to her “so beautiful...”

He placed a gentle kiss to her lips and then moved his mouth to her nipples, bringing her left into his mouth while he rolled the other between his thumb and index finger. “Fuck Frankie” she whimpered “god, it feels so good to be touched again”

“When was the last time someone touch you like this (Y/N)?” He asked her, his lips trailing down her body, placing warm kisses over her stomach.

“M-maybe, about five years ago?” She guessed, she couldn’t really think straight. She had dreamed of having Frankie like this with her, and it was so much better then she ever imagined, she didn’t want to think about any of her past lovers, none of them mattered to her, the only person that mattered to her in that moment was the man above her who was loving every inch of her body.

“Well,” he muttered as he brought his lips back to hers, his fingers hooked under her panties and toyed with them for a moment “we can both end our five year streak” he smirked.

She nodded quickly and he slid back down her body, pulling her panties with him. He held her legs open before she could even try to close them from embarrassment. “You’re already wet” he commented with a smirk. She covered her face with her hands and let out a soft groan “baby,” he said softly as he pulled her hands from her face “let me see that pretty face. I want to hear every noise that comes from that pretty mouth” he placed her hands in his hair again and hooked his arms around her thighs.

He brought his mouth down to her wetness and nudged his nose against her a few times before dragging his tongue between her folds. She let out a moan as her head fell backwards “fuck” she whispered. He licked her slowly again and again. Each time she would have the same reaction but her eyes slid shut as she sunk into the feeling.

“You taste so good baby” he complimented “so delicious” she loved the way he looked between her legs. Licking her wetness as if she were his favourite flavour ice cream or something. As if he hadn’t eaten anything in years, five years.

“You feel so good baby...” she hummed as she dragged her fingers through his hair “making me feel so good...”

“Let me make you come” he mumbled.

“Yes...please” she whispered. He pushed his mouth against her and sucked harshly on her clit, his tongue throwing it side to side. She moaned and panted with every flick of his tongue, his hips rolling against his mouth. He removed one of his arms from her thigh, she whimpered when she felt one of his thick fingers press against her hole “F-Frankie” she stuttered, he hummed and slipped his finger inside her “fuck Frankie” she moaned and gripped his hair. He began pumping his finger in and out of her “wh-What fuck what if the g-guys h-hear?” She panted.

“They won’t baby, they’re drinking outside” he assured her, as if on cue a loud laugh erupted from outside. He slipped another finger into her and curled them inside her.

She groaned loudly and rolled her head back biting her bottom lip “oh baby” she moaned “I’m so close..”

“Hmm...come for me, Mi amor” he enticed her, his tongue attacking her clit. Her grip tightened in his hair, holding his mouth closer against her.

“Fuck fuck fuck” she cursed, her walls clenching around his fingers, his hips stuttering against him as she let out a shaky moan.

“So good...” he mumbled “so fucking good baby” her chest was heaving slightly as he pulled his fingers out of her, he lapped his tongue up her a few times. He moved his face from between her legs and trailed his lips up her body, this time only kissing her scars, his lips lingering on each mark. Frankie moved his face back to hers. He slipped his wet fingers into her mouth and she happily sucked on them while holding his wrist. “You’re so beautiful...you look so good after you come...”

“You made me feel so good..” she mumbled against his fingers. He pulled them out of her mouth and replaced them with his lips. Her hands came to rest on his cheeks “I want to feel you inside me baby...”

He nodded and she rolled him onto his back, climbing on top of him. She moved down his body and pulled down his boxers and threw them to the floor. She almost drooled at the sight of his length and how it was already dripping with pre-come. “Oh baby...” she whispered. Her tongue slid out of her mouth and licked over the tip of his length.

“Fuck...(Y/N)” he gasped. She took his length into her hand and began stroking him while sucking on his tip. “Baby, fuck, baby please...I just want to be in you” he begged softly.

She released him and straddled his waist. She positioned his length at her hole and slowly sunk down onto him. They both groaned at the feeling. Her hands were flat on his chest as she began to steadily bounce on him. “You feel so good Frankie...” she whimpered. He gripped her sides, just above her hips as he was weary of her injury.

“Shit, so do you baby” he groaned “so fucking tight”

She rolled her hips against him and he let out a loud groan. Her pace began to pick up and her nails dug slightly into his chest. Her breath came out in heavy pants, she took one of his hands and pulled it up to her throat. He slightly tightened his hand around her and a smile formed on her lips “so dirty” he growled “you like having my hand wrapped around your perfect neck baby?”

“Yes” she whispered, she groaned and gripped at him. He could feel her walls clenching around him, the squeeze made his head spin. “I’m going to come again...”

He flipped her so she was back on her back and he began to pound into her. She grabbed his wrist and choked out a moan of his name. He grunted with every thrust into her. “Make me come again...make me come around you” she panted breathlessly.

“I will baby, I’ll make you scream” she shivered at the deepness of his voice.

“Yes..” she whimpered. He slipped his free hand between their bodies and began to rub harsh circles on her clit “fuck!” She yelped, her back arching up, her chest hitting against his. “Fuck, fuck Frankie!” Her walls were pulsing around him, her face flushed red and her eyes beginning to water. “Fuck-I’m coming!”

“Yes baby, come for me” he grunted to her. Her nails dug into his wrist as she came, her head being thrown backwards. But his relentless pace didn’t stop, if anything he went faster. Tears began to slip from her eyes at the overstimulation and the lack of air in her lungs.

“Come Frankie, please come inside me” she whimpered. He thrust into her a few more times and released inside her, his hot come shooting into her.

“Fuck” he grunted. His hips stilled and he removed his hand from her neck and she drew in a sharp breath. His face fell into her neck.

She hummed, a smile on her face, her fingers gliding through his hair as he breathed heavily into her neck “a great way to end a five year streak” she giggled he just nodded to her “worth the wait...”

“Definitely” he mumble. He lifted his head from her next and placed a heavy kiss to her lips that slowly got softer as his breath came back. “Do you think..” he began, running his hand up and down her side “we could make this a thing?”

“Having sex?” She asked

“Well yes, but like...us...together”

“Together?” She smiled “you want to be with me?”

“Yeah..I really like you (Y/N). I think you’re amazing. You’re so beautiful and strong and you hold us all together. And I know that maybe it’s not a great time to get into a relationship but..I’m willing to try if you are”

She pulled him back down for a kiss and rolled him over so she was back on top. His arms wrapped around her waist and gently held her on top of his chest “I really like you too Frankie” she said as she stroked his cheek “I think we can make this work...I want to make this work...”

“I want to work too...but...we’ve been friends for years, I don’t want this to ruin it. Like, if something happened between us, I don’t want it to ruin our friendship”

She nodded and kissed him again “I can understand what you mean. Hopefully, nothing does happen to us, but if it does, I don’t think I could live without you in my life regardless of if we’re together or not. You’re my best friend Frankie, I think we can do this”

“I hope so. I’ve wanted to be with you for ages baby. I’ve wanted to hold you like this, feel you like this, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day we met”

“Please kiss me” he smiled and laced his fingers into her hair to hold her lips against his. Both of their hand now rested on his cheeks. She shifted slightly and felt his length move inside her. She giggled “I forgot you were still inside me baby”

“Me too, I was wondering why I felt so warm” she sat up but he desperate chased her lips by sitting up as well, his hands flattening on her back and kissing her again. “I never want to stop kissing you”

“Can you at least pull out of me?” She laughed. He groaned and shifted under her and pulled his length out of her letting out a harsh breath as he did. “Do you think we should tell the others?” She asked him, she rolled off him and led in her side, he too rolled over on his side, propping his head up on his hand.

“We probably should...” his eyes looked down her body and his hand grabbed lightly at her side, running his thumb over her skin. “But..I don’t know how they’ll take it. There are rules against this right? About dating within the army...”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement knowing he was probably right “How do you want to play this?” She asked quietly.

Frankie looked to the door of the room and thought for a moment. “Which ever way allows us to be together” he began before looking back to her “that’s the way I want to play”

04/02/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade @harrys-stan (let me know if you wanted to be added to or removed from the list)

#frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier #pedro pascal #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic

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theanonymousb · 4 years

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My 20 Best Korean Drama

1. Hi Bye Mama

Genre: Fantasy, Drama

Plot:

Cha Yu-Ri (Kim Tae Hee) has been a ghost since she died 5 years ago. She left behind her husband Jo Kang-Hwa and their child. To become a human again, Cha Yu-Ri carries out a reincarnation project for 49 days.

Meanwhile, Jo Kang-Hwa (Lee Kyu-Hyung) works as a chest surgeon. He was loving, but, after his wife died, his personality changed. After 5 years, his wife Cha Yu-Ri reappears in front of him.

2. It’s Okay to Not be Okay

Genre: Romance, Drama

Plot:

A story about a man employed in a psychiatric ward and a woman, with an antisocial personality disorder, who is a popular writer of children’s books.

Moon Kang-Tae (Kim Soo-Hyun) works in a psychiatric ward. His job is to write down the patients’ conditions and deal with unexpected situations, like if patients fight or they run away. He only earns about 1.8 million won ($1,600 USD) a month. The woman (Seo Yea-Ji) is a popular writer of children’s literature, but she is extremely selfish, arrogant and rude.

3. Angel’s last Mission

Genre: Romance, Fantasy

Plot:

Kim Dan (Kim Myung-Soo) is an angel. He is also a troublemaker and also optimist. Lee Yeon-Seo (Shin Hye-Sun) is a ballerina who does not believe in lve.

Dan then receives a mission. If he succeeds, he can return to Heaven. His mission is to find true love for Yeon-Seo, but soon falls in love with her.

4. Prison Playbook

Genre: Black Comedy

Plot:

Je-Hyeok (Park Hae-Soo) is the best relief pitcher in Korea. He will to the U.S and sign a contract with a major league. One night, he hears his sister screaming and sees a man running out of her apartment. Je-hyeok and the man get into a physical struggle with Je-Hyeok striking the man with a rock. Later, Je-Hyeok receives a 1 year prison sentence for using excessive force. Devastated, Je-Hyeok must adapt to life in prison.

Meanwhile, Joon-Ho (Jung Kyoung-Ho) is a friend of Je-Hyeok and works in the prisonas an officer. He waits for Je-Hyeok’s arrival.

5. Chicago Typewriter

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Friendship

Plot:

This drama follows the lives of two men and a woman through two eras; one during the 1930s Japanese occupation of Korea and the other in the 21st century. Han Se-Joo (Yoo Ah-In) who was a writer in his past life and a bestselling author in the present. But Se-Joo is depressed with writer’s block so he can’t write his next book.

Yu Jin-Oh (Go Kyung-Pyo) owned a bar in his previous life. In 2017 he is a talented ghostwriter who can bail Se-Joo out of his predicament, but the mysterious man has a condition for his services. Se-Joo may not be able to meet it.

Jun Seol (Im Soo Jung) was a sniper. Now she has extremely variety expertise. She is a former Olympian hopeful, a veterinarian and a book lover who runs her own delivery service. She oscillates between extreme fandom and an anti-fan of Se Joo.

The intricately woven story of these three characters unfolds to reveal strange mirroring connections between the time periods as well as possibilities for past lives to be redeemed or improves in the modern world.

6. Uncontrollably Fond

Genre: Romance, Melodrama

Plot:

Sin Joon-Young (Kim Woo-Bin) and No Eul (Bae Suzy) were in love in ther younger days. But uncontrollable circumstances separated them and they went their separate ways. Joon-Young is now a superstar actor and singer, while No Eul became a producer-director of documentaries. When their path cross again years later. Joon-Young discovers that No Eul is now very different person than he remembered – materialisticand willing to do anything to get ahead.

7. Penthouse: War In Life

Genre: Suspense, Life, Drama, Family, Mature

Plot:

The residents of Hera Palace, a luxury penthouse apartment with 100 floors, have many secrets and hidden ambitions. Sim Su-Ryeon (Lee Ji-Ah), who was born into wealth, is the queen of the penthouse apartment. Cheon Seo-Jin (Kim So-Yeon), the prima donna of the residence, does all she can to give everything to her daughter. Oh Yoon-Hee (Eugene) comes from a poor family background, but she strives to enter high society by becoming the queen of the penthouse, the pinnacle success in her eyes. A battle for wealth, power, and prestige at Seoul’s most coveted penthouse begins.

8. Crash Landing On You

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Military, Political

Plot:

Yoon Se-Ri (Son Ye-Ji) is an heiress to a conglomerate in South Korea. One day, while paragliding, an accident caused by strong winds leads Yoon Se-Ri to make an emergency landing in North Korea. There, she meets Ri Jeong-Hyeok (Hyun-Bin), who is a North Korean army officer. He tries to protect her and hide her. Soon, Ri Jeong-Hyeok falls in love with Yoon Se-RI.

9. Itaewon Class

Genre: Romance, Business, Friendship, Life

Plot:

On the first day of attending his new high school, Park Sae-Ro-Yi (Park Seo-Joon) punches his classmate Jang Geun-Won, who was bullying another classmate. The bully is the son of CEO Jang Dae-Hee (Yoo Jae-Myung). The bully's father runs restaurant business Jagga where Park Sae-Ro-Yi’s own father works. CEO Jang Dae-Hee demands to Park Sae-Ro-Yi that he apologizes to his son, but Park Sae-Ro-Yi refuses. Because of his refusal, Park Sae-Ro-Yi gets expelled from school and his father gets fired from his job. Soon, an accident takes place. Park Sae-Ro-Yi’s father dies in a motorcycle accident caused by his ex-classmate Jang Geun-Won. Burning with anger, Park Sae-Ro-Yi viciously beats Jang Geun-Won. He is soon arrested and receives prison time for the violent assault. Park Sae-Ro-Yi decides to destroy the Jagga company and take revenge upon CEO Jang Dae-Hee and his son Jang Geun-Won. Once Park Sae-Ro-Yi is released from prison, he opens a restaurant in Itaewon, Seoul. Jo Yi-Seo (Kim Da-Mi), who is popular on social media, joins Park Sae-Ro-Yi’s restaurant and works there as a manger. She has feelings for Park Sae-Ro-Yi.

10. Hotel De Luna

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Horror, Fantasy

Plot:

Jang Man-Wol (IU) is the CEO of Hotel del Luna. The hotel is situated in downtown in Seoul and has a very old appearance. She made a big error many years ago and, because of this, she has been stuck at Hotel del Luna. She is beautiful, but she is fickle, suspicious and greedy.

Koo Chan-Sung (Yeo Jin-Goo) worked as the youngest assistant manager ever at a multinational hotel corporation. He is a sincere perfectionist. He looks level-headed, but he actually has a soft disposition. Due to an unexpected case, he begins to work as a manager at Hotel del Luna. The hotel's clientele consists of ghosts.

11. Do Do Sol Sol La La Sol

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Plot:

Goo Ra-Ra (Go Ara) is a pianist. She has bright personality. Something happened that caused her to become bankrupt. She doesn't have anything now and she is frustrated with her situation.

Sunwoo Joon (Lee Jae-Wook) doesn't care what other people think about him, but he has a warm heart. He is free spirited and doesn't have a specific dream or goal for his life. He makes ends meet by working part-time jobs.

Goo Ra-Ra and Sunwoo Joon meet at the small private piano academy LaLa Land in a country village.

12. 18 Again

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Youth, Drama, Fantasy

Plot:

Tells the story of a husband named Hong Dae Young (Lee Do-Hyun) who is on the verge of divorce but finds himself back in his body when he was at the prime of his life 18 years ago. He ends up changing his name to Go Woo Young when he becomes 18- years-old again. Meanwhile, his wife Jung Da Jung(Kim Ha-Neul) joins the workforce as an anchorwoman later on in life after raising their 18-year-old twins.

13. Goblin: The Lonely and Great God

Genre: Comedy, Romance, Fantasy

Plot:

In ancient times, Kim Shin (Gong Yoo) is an unbeatable general in wars, but the young King (Kim Min-Jae) is jealous of Kim Shin and kills him. Kim Shin becomes Dokkaebi (Goblin), possessing an immortal life. At first he thinks that he is blessed, but he realizes that he is cursed.

Closer to the present day, Kim Shin has waited 900 years for a human bride to end his immortal life. One night, he saves a dying pregnant woman (Park Hee-Von) who is destined to die. Meanwhile, the Grim Reaper (Lee Dong-Wook) is unable to find the dead pregnant woman. The woman gives birth to a baby girl named Ji Eun-Tak (later played by Kim Go-Eun). 9 years later, Ji Eun-Tak lives with her mother and is able to see ghosts. One night, her mother suddenly dies. On that night, she meets the Grim Reaper.

In the present day, Ji Eun-Tak is a high school student. She still sees ghosts and hears their whisper of “Dokkaebi’s bride.” She now lives with her aunt’s family, but she is mistreated by them. On her birthday, Ji Eun-Tak sits by the sea with a lighted birthday cake. At that time, Kim Shin suddenly appears in front of her. Kim Shin does not know why, but he can hear her voice and appears in front of her against his will. Coincidentally, Kim Shin lives with the Grim Reaper at the same house.

Now, Kim Shin appears in front of her against his will, whenever she turns off the lights. One day, Ji Eun-Tak tells him that he is Dokkaebi and she is his bride.

14. It’s Okay That’s Love

Genre: Friendship, Psychological, Comedy, Romance, Drama

Plot:

Jang Jae-Yeol (Jo In-Sung) is a mystery writer and radio DJ. He suffers from a obsession. Ji Hae-Soo (Gong Hyo-Jin) is going through her first year fellowship in psychiatry at a University Hospital. She chose psychiatry because she doesn't want to perform surgeries. After she meets Jang Jae-Yeol, her life goes through big changes.

15. Let’s Fight Ghost

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Fantasy, Action, Horror

Plot:

Hyun-Ji (Kim So-Hyun) studied for most her life before she died at the age of 19. She is now a ghost and has wandered around the world for several years. Hyun-Ji then meets exorcist Park Bong-Pal (TaecYeon). Hyun-Ji and Bong-Pal listens to various stories from ghosts and sends them to the otherworld.

16. Hospital Playlist

Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Romance, Life, Medical

Plot:

A drama depicting the stories of people going through their days that are seemingly ordinary but actually special, at the hospital, a place known as the microcosm of life - where someone is being born and someone's life meets their ending. The five doctors are longtime friends of 20 years who started their undergrad in 1999 in the same medical school, and now they are colleagues in the same hospital. The drama will also deal with a story of a band formed by the group of doctors.

17. Fated to Loved You

Genre: Business, Comedy, Romance,

Plot:

This drama is the story of an ordinary girl, Mi Yeong, (Jang Na-Ra)who has neither outstanding looks, a prestigious college degree, nor any other charming qualities, facing her whole life abruptly changing when love comes knocking at her door. While on vacation, she accidentally happens to spend one night with Lee Gun (Jang Hyuk) and even gets pregnant from that night. Because of this incident, her life will never be the same, and this fateful encounter brings love that transforms this not-so-special girl to an attractive, charming lady.

18. Go Back Couple

Genre: Comedy, Romance, Life, Fantasy

Plot:

Choi Ban-Do (Son Ho-Jun) and Ma Jin-Joo (Jang Na-Ra) are both 38-years-old and a married couple. Choi Ban-Do has been burdened with being the breadwinner and Ma Jin-Joo is a housewife with low self-esteem. Even though they loved each other when they married, they now hate each other. They both regret marrying at such a young age. The couple travel through time and find themselves as 20-year-old university students, when they met for the first time.

19. To The Beautiful You

Genre: School, Teen, Romantic, Comedy, Sports

Plot:

Kang Tae-Joon (Minho) is a gold medalist in the high jump, but he has been mired in a slump due to an injury. In order to help her idol, a girl named Koo Jae-Hee (Sulli) disguises herself as a boy and enrolls at the same all male high school.When Tae-Joon (Minho) is competiting at the World Junior Competition, Jae-Hee (Sulli) watches him on TV in America and becomes very touched.

Despite her friends telling her otherwise, Jae-Hee cuts her long hair by herself. She then flies to South Korea, with a plan to stay with Tae-Joon who is now injured. Jae-Hee disguises herself as a boy and enrolls at the all boys Genie Physical Education High School. On her first day at school, Jae-Hee goes up the stairs with her suitcase, but her suitcase bursts open and all her clothes fall out. A boy comes by and helps her pick up her stuff. Jae-Hee realizes that the boy helping her is none other than her idol Tae-Joon. In her excitement, Jae-Hee sits on her suitcase, which proceeds to slide down the stairs.

20. When the Camellia Blooms

Genre: Triller, Comedy, Romance, Family

Plot:

Dong-Baek (Kong Hyo-Jin) is a single mother living in the small town of Ongsan. She runs the bar-restaurant Camellia, while also taking care of her son Pil-Gu (Kim Kang-Hoon). The people of Ongsan frequently gossip about Dong-Baek. She grew up as an orphan, is a single mother and runs a bar where many of the men in Ongsan frequent. Regardless of what the locals may whisper about Dong-Baek, local police officer Hwang Yong-Sik (Kang Ha-Neul) is deeply in love with her. Meanwhile, Dong-Baek's ex-boyfriend Kang Jong-Ryeol (Kim Ji-Suk) suddenly reappears in her life. He is a famous baseball player, that hid their relationship when they dated. While Dong-Baek tries to find happiness, something truly sinister lurks in the background. A serial killer roams Ongsan and Dong-Baek may be a target.

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jengajives · 4 years

Text

Alright so Finrod tho

Finrod squinted beyond his line to the mass of dark, tarnished metal boiling on the horizon.

There were so many. Too many.

They couldn’t hold. They were going to lose the pass.

He raised his spear, the silver banner flapping loudly from its haft, and roared a rallying cry. It was answered by the guard around him, and the rest of the army behind.

They could not lose the pass.

On the other side of the river, Orodreth’s infantry were holding, but Finrod’s own forces were taking the brunt of the assault and being crushed beneath it. A wedge of orcs was starting to plunge between the ranks, forcing himself and his company against the river and the others to the hills. Soon the goblins would have the two forces separated and come down on them like a hammer against an anvil.

Finrod didn’t fancy the idea of drowning in all this armor, nor of being cut down and hewn in the shallows of Sirion, so he shouted for horns to blow, for the company to push back toward the hills with all their might.

He took the forefront of the assault with his guard around him. The soldiers needed someone to follow.

He wasn’t nearly as fearsome in battle as some of his cousins, but he was no terrified youth, either. He was a foe the orcs knew to fear. And he would lead his people to triumph or fall in the attempt.

There was so little left. They couldn’t lose the pass.

Rising to meet them was a shield-wall of steel and wood, bristling with spear tips, weeping arrows. The Elves fell on it like waves against a cliff.

Finrod batted shields aside, shattered wooden hafts of spears against his mithril-coated arms, and plunged his own ringing weapon in wherever armor looked soft. Black blood spattered the banner his spear bore until it hung heavy and dripping. His fingers struggled to grip a handle so slick with gore. On every side, his people fell.

The orcs crushed them back. No matter how many they killed, more would swarm forth and rally, clashing against the Elves with more ferocity each time, like the sight of their fallen brothers heightened the natural goblin bloodlust and drove them mad. Soon Finrod’s host was losing land. Slowing being pushed back to the edge of the water until even the King’s heels were damp and they were fighting in the shallowest flow of the river.

Screams faded into the sound of a heartbeat. A shield crashed into Finrod’s chest so hard his breastplate buckled, and he went wheeling to the ground in a breathless flash of red and white. When he landed on all fours, before he could scramble back or reach for his fallen spear or even think about catching his breath, a jagged blade took him in the side and screeched against his armor until it caught the weak part beneath the arm and pushed right through.

White-hot pain erupted in Finrod’s side. He screamed, twisted to grab the blade and yank it free, shooting sparks from the metal-clad palm of his hand when the sword jerked back on its own, slicing him even through the protection.

He managed to turn and look into the yellow eyes of the goblin that was going to kill him before the stroke fell, just so he’d know what was own death had looked like.

The orc grinned with metal teeth, and a hatchet took it suddenly in the throat.

With a scream that turned rapidly to a gurgle, the creature feel, and from the midst of shrieking orcs came a new shape in a spray of black blood.

The newcomer had no heavy armor, just a leather breastplate with thick layers of chainmail beneath, and wore no helm on his head. Instead, his dark auburn hair flowed free about his shoulders, and his dark eyes gleamed as he held aloft a dripping sword in one hand and another small throwing axe in the other. The orcs fled him like he was a specter, and soon others emerged from the ranks like him, hardy and wielding stout weapons of iron and steel. Men, come to fight alongside their immortal brothers. Finrod felt lightheaded.

The first Man offered a large hand that was certainly plenty calloused beneath leather gloves.

“Your Highness. Can you stand?”

Finrod could only stare, entranced, as this new company of Men hacked a perimeter around them. His throat felt dry.

“Who are you?”

“Barahir, my Lord. Son of Bregor of Bëor’s house. My people are here to help in whatever way we can, sir.”

From somewhere in the direction of the mountains, horns sounded, but they weren’t Finrod’s. He recognized the orcs’ screams of terror.

Barahir moved his outstretched hand closer to remind Finrod it was there.

“Your Majesty, can you stand?”

It was then Finrod realized he was bleeding, heavily enough to see it drip from his silver armor. He spoke unsteadily with this new knowledge very, very close to the forefront of his mind, but tried to smile.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good. We must move quickly to get you and your people to safety.”

When Finrod accepted the hand, he was shocked by how warm and firm its grip was. Immediately his trust was given to this Man in its entirety.

“I can manage,” Finrod said when Barahir offered him an arm to lean on, despite how much he wanted to take it. He could walk on his own and it was best not to further hinder a soldier so obviously capable as Barahir. Finrod watched him draw back and fling his second hatchet into a break in his line with exceptional speed and accuracy. Men closed in to fill the gap as soon as the hatchet passed them by.

“We can cut a path back to your main force,” Barahir said with alarming calmness. “Stay close to me. I’ll protect you.”

If Finrod had been any prouder, he would have insisted he did not need protection, but he was a practical creature and an honest one, and he knew he was too weak to stand his own now against even the smallest orc. And Barahir to him seemed mighty and sure; deep in his heart Finrod knew he would come to no harm in this Man’s care.

“Lead on,” he said with a solemn nod.

Remarkably, Barahir grinned at him. There was a gap between his front teeth. Somehow Finrod’s knees grew weaker.

Barahir raised his sword. “Protect the King!”

Around him, the lightly-clad soldiers gave an answering shout. Like a fluid machine they closed ranks, putting shields on the outside of the ring with pikemen behind them, keeping Finrod and the last remnant of his guard in the middle. Barahir stayed close, too. Every once in a while he’d venture to the edge of the guarded circle to shout orders and provide support for the wounded, but as the ring around them tightened and the soldiers providing protection thinned, he began to spend more time in the center at Finrod’s side.

When Felagund stumbled and his mouth began to taste of iron, Barahir was there to catch him.

“Nearly there now,” he said in a low, steady voice. “Hold on, your Highness. I’ve got you.”

Finrod wanted to say something back but his head was spinning, so he let himself lean on Barahir as the sounds of battle dimmed around him and each shuffling step brought an ache to his head.

“Take it easy,” Barahir said. There was an edge of nervousness to his voice; blades hacking to get in on every side.

The few remaining Men formed up tight, a thin line around Finrod and Barahir. The Elvish guards with any strength left to bear weapon joined them and together they cut at the incoming enemy with horrible ferocity.

Just as the ring began to be battered apart, the main part of Finrod’s host fell on them like a silver tide, and Elvish swordsman washed around them with blades white and fell.

Several glittering soldiers rushed to retrieve Finrod from Barahir’s arms, though he wasn’t happy to go. He spit a mouthful of blood and stood unsteadily, forearm braced against a soldier, to face the Man.

“You must retreat south down the river.” Barahir pointed as if he worried Finrod had forgotten where the river actually was. “We can cover your retreat.”

“I won’t stand by while others give their lives fighting our battles,” Finrod said weakly. His attempt to stand up straight didn’t work out all too well; soon he was nearly staggering into the other guards, though he did manage to keep his footing. “We’ll stand with you, Barahir.”

“No.” The remainder of the Men gathered around, the horns of their host blew loud just to the east. “Many of your soldiers have fallen. You don’t have the strength to hold the pass.”

“I won’t-“

“King Felagund,” Barahir said almost pleadingly, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You need medicine. Your people need respite. Leave this to us, and return to safety while you still can.”

The look in his muddy eyes was so steadfast that Finrod cracked almost immediately. His voice warbled.

“When will I see you again?”

“If I have been blessed with any luck,” Barahir said fervently, “then it will be soon.”

He smiled again, but this time it was remarkably sad.

Finrod looked on him and loved what he saw, and at once he was stricken by the need to do something to thank this Man, this valiant hero who had paid much to save his life. He fumbled to unbuckle his gauntlet.

“Here-“ Beneath the silver armor upon his slim finger he wore the ring crafted for him back in Valinor- the one set with green emeralds that sparkled like the deepest pools. He pressed it firmly to Barahir’s hand, and folded his fingers around it.

“If ever you find yourself in need,” Finrod said, “Nargothrond is open to you. I owe you a life debt, Barahir son of Bregor, and I will not quickly forget it.”

Barahir looked at the ring with the astonishment of one who had never beheld great riches. After a moment, he managed to shake his head, slack-jawed.

“I cannot take this!”

“It is a gift.” Finrod nodded to himself. “A poor symbol of my gratitude, but all that I have to give.”

He hesitated.

“Save one thing...”

Then with shocking nervousness, he leaned down and placed a light kiss on the lips of Barahir the captain of Men, before the two of them went their separate ways.

#jenga makes junk #fanfic #fic #writers #finrod felagund #finrod #barahir #orodreth #silmarillion #finrod x barahir

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

ghasdug for couple questions if you like feeding me

1. Who said I love you first?

Ghastly. Mid-orgasm. The first time they slept together. He. Is. Mortified.

2. Who laughs and kisses their partner on the cheek while their partner isn’t happy about something trivial to try and make them feel better?

Skug. Ghastly has some inadequacy issues during their first century or so, mostly about being ugly and poor - he knows skug could do better. He's attractive, he's funny, he can be very sweet when he wants to be - he could make an excellent match with someone as landed and titled and wealthy as he is.

Skug does try to reassure him, but between his tactlessness and his tendency to not take anything seriously, he kind of sucks at it. Ghastly feels like his being "less than" is a big hurdle, while skug sees it as a trivial difference - he's much happier living with ghastly's family in their cramped farmhouse than he ever was at his parents' vast estate. So he tries to turn it into a joke - "good thing I'm handsome enough for both of us, then," - while completely missing the point that ghastly wants forever with him, and he's worried he's going to spend the rest of forever getting looked down on and whispered about because skulduggery could've done better.

3. Who cuddles up to the other after a long day at work, and this soon escalates to a playful pillow fight?

Ghastly is the cuddler. It escalates because skug is adhd as hell and cannot just lie still and snuggle for long without getting bored. He needs constant stimulation. He'll sit on the counter while ghastly works and chat for hours though, swinging his legs and passing over tools when ghastly needs them

4. What is something that they gave one another that has a lot of meaning?

Ghastly makes all skug's clothes, including his armour, because he doesn't trust anyone else to keep skug safe in battle.

Ghastly has skug's signet ring, which he found in the burned down-ruins of the pleasant family home after skug was killed. For decades, it's the only thing he had left of skug - the clothes ghastly made, the scarf wifey made, and the locket with wifey and skugbab's portraits inside were all cut away and burned, and the house was razed to the ground. Skug knows he has it, but he's never asked for it back.

5. How would one another describe their partner?

Skug would either deliberately misread the question ("What, haven't you seen him? How could you miss ghastly? He's...he's this high and built like a wall.") or come out with something explicit to deter follow-up questions.

Ghastly mostly talks about how annoying skug is, but it's? Endearing to him. At this stage of their lives, he is the only person who's actually happy to listen to like, an eight hour infodump with no breaks. Skug is. A Lot to handle and society does not have the terminology for him yet.

6. Who wraps their arms around their partner as they look them in the eyes and compliments them with a goofy smile?

Ghastly. Skug, under all the vanity and egocentrism, has critically low self-esteem and very little self-worth. He's the Family Scapegoat, and got the lion's share of the abuse before he ran away, so he absolutely melts for compliments. The boy has praise kink up the wazoo. Ghastly will happily feed his ego to watch him get the smile and the sparkly eyes and puff up like a proud peacock.

7. Who loves saying ‘my wife’ or ‘my husband’ or ‘my spouse’?

They don't really have this tbh? Not only is the vocabulary of the period insufficient, they see the relationship differently.

Skug is like. Anxious-avoidant attachment personified. He doesn't like to get too close. He falls in love with ghastly a long time before he's able to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. He essentially treats their relationship like a fuckbuddies kind of deal, and he feels safe like that, because he can't be hurt by someone he doesn't care about. He can't be let down or abandoned by someone who has no commitment to him in the first place. Admitting he loves ghastly leaves him vulnerable, and if he's learned anything in his childhood, its that vulnerable people are the ones who get hurt.

Ghastly on the other hand considers skug his boyfriend, and there's no equivalent term from the 1500s. "Gentleman caller" hardly applies when you live under the same roof and share a room (and, more often than not, a bed), so nobody is calling on anyone. Privately, he thinks of skug as his lover, but he knows skug is allergic to intimacy, so he keeps that to himself for the most part.

So ghastly usually introduces skug as "this is my - this is skulduggery pleasant" and skug usually introduces ghastly as "this is my dear friend, ghastly".

8. Who always talks about how amazing their partner is when their partner isn’t there and they just light up with genuine love and happiness?

Ghastly. Skug is his first love, and he's completely lost in it. He's had crushes before, on pretty girls who only ever spoke to him to enquire after his "handsome brother", and strapping young men at market who avoided looking at him to speak to his father, but he's never felt anything like this before. He lives with skug. He sees him first thing in the morning and last thing at night, he sees him happy and depressed and drunk and furious, he kisses him and fights with him and fucks him and defends him and laughs with him and cries with him and for years and years, they're inseparable. He's? Completely unprepared for how hard he falls for skug.

9. Who loves it when their partner kisses them good morning?

Ghastly. Drowsy morning skug is snuggliest skug. He doesn't get as many snuggles as he'd like, tbh, because skug is active and easily distracted and doesn't like staying still for too long, but in the early morning is when he's most likely to be warm and cuddly and relaxed, and when he's least concerned about keeping ghastly at arms length. He'll pull skug back against his chest and he'll wiggle round to press a sleepy kiss to the corner of ghastly's mouth and tuck his head under ghastly's chin, and he'll doze off again with his hand stroking idly up and down skug's spine.

10. Who shows the other how to balance a spoon on their nose?

Ghastly.

11. Who loves to pull pranks on the other? What type of pranks do they pull and do they pull their pranks off?

Skug likes to pick up the absolute ugliest thing he can find while shopping and pretend he loves it while ghastly cringes and swears blind that he will not be seen with you while you're wearing that thing, skulduggery, so help him god. What usually happens is that skug pulls his new purchase to pieces as soon as they get home, and then gets ghastly to make it up better.

12. What is something small that they would randomly pick up for one another?

Skug taught ghastly to read, so he'd bring home books for him while he was learning and get ghastly to read to him, lying with his head in ghastly's lap and lazily correcting his pronunciation or reminding him how to sound out the words.

Ghastly doesn't have the sort of disposable income skug does, so he makes him things instead, like stylish hats with feathers in them, even though he personally hates that fashion and is delighted when it dies.

13. Who is the one who can’t stop laughing when trying to tell a joke?

Skug. Ghastly loves watching him laugh till he chokes though. He adores seeing skug happy.

14. Who would plan the other a surprise birthday party?

Ghastly. Skug is an attention whore, he loves that kind of thing. An entire event all for him? Hell yes, baby

Ghastly himself, on the other hand, is painfully insecure and selfconscious at this stage of his life, and he'd be mortified at being the centre of attention like that. Skug is a vain, arrogant dick, but he's not cruel. He wouldn't make ghastly feel bad for funsies.

15. Who picks the other person up when hugging their partner?

Ghastly picks skug up. There's not much of a height difference between them, just two inches, but teenage skug is a lanky little twink and ghastly could benchpress him, which skug is rabidly horny over. Because, you know, muscles.

Once they join the army and skug fills out and gets all lean and fit and strong, ghastly can still pick him up, but he absolutely complains that he weighs a ton now.

Adult skug can lift/mostly carry ghastly in an emergency, like if he's injured and needs to be helped back to camp or carried off a battlefield. But it's difficult, and ghastly is really too heavy for him, so picking him up isn't something he'd do for fun. Teenage skug can't pick ghastly up at all.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons

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nicknellie · 4 years

Text

Context so people who haven’t seen Ghosts can still read and enjoy this: Alex is the ghost of a WWII Commanding Officer. In this fic he relives his army days before he died, telling Julie all about it, focusing on another soldier in particular - Lieutenant William Havers.

Sidenote for people who have seen Ghosts: Alex is the Captain, Julie is Alison (because I would pay real money for them to have a conversation like this in the show), and Willie is Havers.

This is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. I wanted to include Willex in the longer Ghosts AU I’m writing but I couldn’t find a natural way to fit it in so I wrote this as something completely separate. Every interaction between Alex and Willie is taken from BBC Ghosts and is very gay.

Here’s to Buried Secrets

Alex could remember it like it was yesterday. Late June in 1940 – hazy spring had bled into a dazed summer, his troops were getting restless after going on a year of work, and he was just about ready to lose his mind. That day had been one of startling revelations and hard-hitting truths, painful decisions that felt like betrayals, stagnant silences and hurt.

With the war dragging on endlessly, his troops had been getting complacent. They did critical work at their base, top secret and crucial to the war effort, but there were times where nothing would happen for days at a time and the troops would get bored. Their behaviour was beginning to waver, and though he wasn’t too against it overall (he understood why they were acting up, he was bored to death too) Alex had to do the right thing and set them straight.

“Now,” he said, “that brings me neatly to point sixteen. There is still a great deal of noise going on at night – laughing, giggling, horseplay. Now, we all get bored – that’s inevitable in our circumstances – but may I remind you, we are at war. I wo…”

He had let his sentence trail off. At that moment, the doors at the back of the room had swung open and in walked Willie. Lieutenant William Havers was Alex’s right-hand man and close friend. There couldn’t always be much room for friendships when at war, and living in such close quarters with everyone in the house could make bonding difficult, but there was something about Willie and Alex that had allowed them simply to click. They understood each other – they cared for each other. Perhaps a little too much.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Alex greeted, interrupting his own speech.

Willie walked towards him, hand outstretched, holding a small, folded piece of paper. “Communique for you, sir, from HQ, marked urgent.”

“Ah,” Alex returned, taking the note. “Finally! This’ll be my requisition for a service revolver.”

Willie smiled gently as Alex unfolded the note, and Alex suppressed his own. But as soon as he read the note, there was no smile left to hide. This was that first striking blow, that devastating loss; the note brought with it the news of a surrender.

“Good God,” Alex exclaimed, skimming the note over again, making sure he’d read it correctly.

“Sir?” Willie prompted, sounding concerned.

“France has surrendered,” Alex explained.

“My God,” muttered Willie. The troops, still assembled to the side of the two men, began murmuring amongst themselves, the tension in the room much higher now than when Alex had been telling them they needed to go to bed on time.

Alex looked out the window, scanning the sky for any sign of attack. It was silly, he knew – nothing could have happened so quickly – but as it was wont to do, his anxiety began to overwhelm him.

“The Germans are coming,” he said, breath hitching in his throat.

“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet, sir,” Willie told him.

Alex shook his head, regained control. Willie was always good at doing that; he could sense when Alex needed help to calm down, and he could do so with an easy joke, a clever quip. Coming from anyone else, talking to a commanding officer that way might have been a sign of disrespect, but from Willie it was just what Alex needed.

“What? Right,” Alex agreed.

Willie could see he was still distressed. “May I suggest we initiate the emergency lockdown protocol, sir?” he said easily.

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed. He was eternally thankful for Willie – God only knew where he would be without that man by his side. “Yes, jolly good.” He turned to address his troops. “Now, it’s vital that nothing fall into enemy hands.”

“You heard the CO,” Willie said to the troops as Alex turned to watch out the window again. “Get to your duties.”

The troops dispersed in a cloud of excited but nervous chatter, getting to their stations, hiding their work. Alex was left alone with Willie, his only comfort. As Willie came to stand by the window with him, that easy, dashing smile on his lips, Alex felt himself both tense and relax. His worry ebbed away, but it was replaced with the hammering of his heart and a shortness of breath.

“Er… exciting times, Willie,” he ventured. He knew he should have called Willie by his proper title, or at least his surname, but when in private the two were much more open and colloquial with each other. Besides, in the wake of such a bombshell using his first name didn’t seem so scandalous. “If they do invade, we might get a proper pop at Jerry.”

“Yes,” Willie said through a chuckle. But the smile on his face dropped after a moment. Alex felt his heart plummet – Willie was usually all smiles and it was never good when they fell away. “About that, sir… I know we do vital work here, sir… but I want to get involved in the fighting. I’ve put in for a transfer.”

Alex felt like his breath had been stolen from him. Here again, that blow to the gut, that crushing feeling of betrayal. He knew distantly that Willie wasn’t betraying him and he could understand why he wanted to go. What stung was that he was only finding out after the fact. Though he knew also why Willie hadn’t told him: because they both knew that Alex would have done everything in his power to stop him, and it would have been too painful for either of them to bear.

Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but there was something magical about the bond they had. It was like they shared a soul, improved each other, completed one another. Alex didn’t want to think too hard about it. The thought of what he and Willie could have been was painful in innumerable ways.

He still didn’t voice those thoughts now, even though he knew it may be one of the only chances he had left. Instead, through a hitch in his voice, he said, “You’re leaving?”

Willie didn’t reply for a moment, a pregnant pause growing between them, pushing them apart. It stung, and Alex couldn’t feel anything.

But then Willie gathered himself and said, “There’s talk of a North Africa front.”

“Yes,” Alex replied, nodding like it all made perfect sense, like he didn’t feel as if he were going to die. “Yes, well, I totally understand, of course. Carry on.”

He ended it like a command, an order. It wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from Willie - no, he wanted to keep him close by forever - but he needed to grasp some semblance of control and giving orders, doing his job as CO let him do just that - be in control, understand what was happening.

“Thank you,” Willie replied, excruciatingly quiet, ducking his head.

He left the room and Alex in musty silence, the air heavy with revealed secrets and suffocating like gas. Alex’s mind was swimming, fogged with hopeless fantasies, weighed down by the knowledge that the one person who kept him going would soon be leaving him.

Alex had almost forgotten that Julie was there until he looked around and saw her watching him. He was dragged back down from his own mind, his own dredged up memories, and instead reminded himself that he had been telling her all that, not reliving it for no good reason. Perhaps he’d got a bit too caught up in it all, lost in his own head.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Willie was wonderful. A very fine soldier. I never found what became of him, though, after he left for North Africa. We exchanged letters for a while, but it was difficult – what with the top-secret work I was doing, we couldn’t have addresses being traced and whatnot. We soon fell out of touch, and then… well, I died.”

Julie reached out as if to take his hand, but then seemed to remember they couldn’t touch, so rested it in the space between them on the sofa. Alex smiled weakly, laid his own hand beside hers. He tried to avoid looking her in the eye – her expression radiated pity and it was the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said gently. “It must have been awful.”

“Luckily, a true soldier like me becomes adept at hiding his feelings,” he said, trying for light and joking but clearly missing his target. “Besides. I couldn’t worry my troops. Had to keep morale up, which was difficult enough in itself. It was… it was rather a lot to come to terms with.”

“What happened when he left?” Julie asked softly.

Alex sighed. “Well…”

Alex had been in his office just a few days later. He was staring down at an envelope, carefully sealed. In it was the blueprints for a new limpet mine, a prototype bomb that would perhaps revolutionise the war had it not been so unstable – Alex and Willie had been trying to create a version that was safer, easier to use, but so far had come up empty. They had been instructed to dispose of the bomb and its blueprints; the mission would be dropped.

The envelope was marked simply with the word ‘William’. That was what the operation was called, its codename. Alex had been the one to decide upon it, uncreatively naming it after the first thing he saw, which just so happened to be his lieutenant sat by his side. Willie was the only other one to know about Operation William and when he left it would just be Alex.

Alex had imagined many a time that the contents of the envelope were something entirely different, that the name on the front was to address someone rather than to hide something. In his dreams, there was a letter inside written in his own handwriting and it spilled every deep dark secret he was keeping. It would be addressed to Willie and for his eyes only. In his dreams, Willie would write his own letter in return, addressed to Alex.

He would never write that letter, he knew. It could get him killed.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock at his office door.

“Come,” he called, tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The door opened and Willie let himself in, shutting it behind him, standing to attention.

“Ah, Willie,” Alex greeted, glad to see him as usual. “At ease, at ease. I was just thinking about you, actually. How’s the emergency lockdown coming?”

“Very good, sir,” Willie returned, smiling sweetly. “Most items have been squared away, as per the order.”

“Excellent,” Alex returned, beaming. He moved to stand behind his desk, closer to Willie but with a barrier between them. As he tried to speak, Willie began too. “I see–”

“I’ve come to tell you that–”

Both laughed, nerves buzzing between them. Alex knew what his were about – he could only guess and hope as to why Willie seemed a little on edge. The space between them felt charged with expectation, though what it was for Alex didn’t know.

“Sorry,” he said, returning Willie’s genuine but faltering smile, “you first, Lieutenant.”

There was a pause. Uncomfortable, excruciatingly anticipatory. The last remains of Willie’s smile crumbled and he swallowed before he said those few words that would tear down the last of Alex’s resolve and ruin him forever, haunting every dream and nightmare and waking moment. The words that would echo in his head whenever there was silence. The words he would fall asleep thinking about every night from that day forward.

“I’m afraid I’m leaving you, sir… At eighteen-hundred hours this evening.”

The world stilled. Alex wasn’t sure his heart was beating anymore. The part of their shared soul that was Willie’s was torn away from him. He came up blank.

“So soon?” was what came out of his mouth, weak, desperate, small. He hated himself for it, so tried for light-heartedness and gestured to the shining new gun on Willie’s belt. “That would explain your new service revolver. I don’t suppose they sent one for me, did they?”

“Only for front-line personnel at this stage, sir,” Willie said, a light but forced smile on his face.

“Of course. Yes.”

“It’s North Africa, sir,” Willie said. There was something like hope in his voice – it felt like he was asking Alex not to be too upset. Be proud, he was asking. Be happy. For me. “I’ll be able to have a proper swing at Fritz!”

“You make sure you give them a bloody nose,” Alex joked.

He answered Willie’s silent plea for his blessing, his reassurance, his pride, and he tried hard to be positive. He attempted a half-hearted fake punch, throwing it in Willie’s direction and was delighted when Willie responded (if only subtly) as if he’d been struck. Willie was grinning, looking happy, looking excited. Alex had to try and be excited for him too.

But still he said, “I shall miss you, Willie.”

Willie’s face fell again. Alex half-hoped his meaning hadn’t been easy to decipher. He knew what he meant, he knew why he’d said it, but it was a stupid and dangerous thing to say – a stupid and dangerous thing to hope for. Willie swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing, and Alex couldn’t read his expression. Though he was fairly certain it was something similar to his own.

He had always known that Willie felt it too, this forbidden and electric thing between them, whatever it was. This shared soul that was now breaking in two, never to be repaired, never to be recreated. It was this moment that Alex realised he and Willie could never have what they wanted.

So he backtracked.

“By which I mean, of course, that we shall miss you. And I know the Wilson House XI will certainly miss your cover drive.”

Willie’s smile came back too slowly. Alex knew his lie hadn’t come quick enough. He knew the unspoken words and unwritten messages were still there between them, heavy and quaking and full of fear, sadness, silence, and things neither wanted to put a name too. They danced around it, though they wouldn’t have to for much longer. Just a few more hours and whatever they had would be shredded forever as Willie said goodbye.

“Thank you, sir,” Willie said. “Well… if that’s all?”

Alex collected himself, simply looked at Willie for a moment before making himself reply. “Yes.”

Willie nodded, took it as his cue to leave. He pulled the door open and was on his way out of the room.

There was so much Alex wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. He wanted to spend a hundred more sleepless nights with Willie, working on secret projects and perfecting weapons. He wanted a thousand more late night conversations spoken in metaphors and riddles, deciphering each other, growing closer, learning more about their relationship than was permitted. He wanted a million more moments just to look at Willie’s face, to dream of what he couldn’t have.

All he wanted was to speak this silent truth that hung between them like a noose – damn him if it killed them both.

He called him back. “I say, Willie?”

Willie turned faster than lightning, hand rested on the doorknob but eyes trained on Alex like his face was all he ever wanted to see.

He tried to say all he wanted to, but knew he could never. It appeared he just had time for one last metaphor, a final riddle, one last waltz around their dire and doomed reality.

“It’s a bally shame we won’t get to finish the operation together,” he said.

Judging by the look on Willie’s face, the message was received loud and clear. Willie offered a smile, genuine but bittersweet. And without a word, he left the room.

Alex took the little envelope out of his pocket again, stared down at it. He had wanted to bury Operation William alongside Willie – they had both worked so hard but for nothing and it seemed only right they should rid the world of this failure together. But Alex would have to do it alone.

If only he could write that imaginary letter now, he thought. There was so much he could say, but not enough words in the English language to say it. There weren’t words to describe the abject loss he found himself steeped in, the gaping hole that had opened in his chest, the weeping wound that would never quite heal.

That night, alone, he went into the garden with the blueprints and the prototype bomb and he buried them both. With it, he buried all memory and evidence of himself and Willie, all their hard work, all they had built and experienced together.

He bottled those emotions to never let them out.

“He left that night,” Alex said to Julie, “six o’clock on the dot. The rest of our crew saw him off, waving from the doorway, but I stayed in my office. I told them I had paperwork to do.”

“Did you get to say goodbye?” Julie asked.

Alex sighed. “That conversation… well, that was our goodbye. The rest of the house was in chaos so I didn’t have another chance to speak with him alone, everyone needed either my assistance or his.”

Julie’s eyes were brimming with tears; Alex didn’t look at her, or his own eyes would have watered too. “So that was it? That was the last you saw of him?”

“Sort of. I watched him leave from my office window. He… he gave me one last wave from the gate then disappeared, off on his own adventure. Without me.”

“Don’t you wonder what happened to him?” Julie asked, shuffling closer to Alex on the sofa.

“All the time,” Alex breathed. “I looked for his name in every newspaper and every message I received after we lost contact but I never heard of him again.”

“Would you like me to Google him?” Julie suggested. She had explained this whole ‘Googling’ thing to him a while ago and from Alex’s understanding she simply had to type Willie’s name into the little search bar and all his information would come up in an instant. It was quite remarkable, really, and perhaps it would give him that last little bit of closure. And yet…

“No,” he said, “no, thank you, Julie. It’s quite alright. I… I have this version in my head of who he became and I shouldn’t like to spoil it. I shouldn’t like to taint what memory I have left of him, should his life have turned sour.”

Julie smiled softly. “What’s the image in your head like?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose I like to imagine that he was the best soldier out there on the North Africa front. He rose to a position of command – that was where he thrived, really, but good Lord was he good behind a gun. He was well-respected and kind and his men adored him. And I pray that he survived the war, that he made a living for himself, that he got everything he could have ever wanted in life. Really, I suppose… I suppose I just imagine him to be happy. That’s all I could have ever wanted for him. And if I were to find out he were not happy, well… no, I quite like the Willie I remember.”

Julie left a pause before she spoke again. Alex could see the cogs turning in her mind, could see her wondering if she should say whatever was on the tip of her tongue. He knew what was coming the moment she opened her mouth.

“Did you love him, Alex?”

Alex stood, crossed the room and stood by the window. His hands clasped behind his back, swagger stick gripped tightly, he looked outside, eyes trained on the gate. How many times had he stood here during the war and after, waiting for what he had lost to return, hoping in vain that by some miracle he could be granted his happiness? How many times had he wished for what he could not have? How many times had he replayed those final moments in his head, watching Willie wave goodbye?

It happened again as he stood there. It was as if a cloud came over him, throwing him back decades, putting him right back where he started. Willie stood by the gate, thick coat donned, hat atop his head, his bag slung over his shoulder. He waved up at Alex, and Alex smiled back.

“Yes,” he said at last, so quietly that he thought Julie may not have heard him. A great weight was lifted from his shoulders, decades of repression undermined in that one admission of his true feelings. It wasn’t enough – it never would be because he’d never said it to Willie – but acceptance was a start.

Slow as death, Willie – Alex’s version of him – ceased his waving and walked through the gate, disappearing into the darkness to where Alex would never follow. And for the first time after reliving that agonising memory, Alex let himself smile.

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wavesmp3 · 4 years

Text

the sea is yours to take

pairing: wen junhui x fem!reader genre: royalty au, high fantasy, romance, slow burn warnings: mentions of death, violence (but it’s usually friendly) wc: 36k (it’s so long, i know, i’m sorry)

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far away from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts. a/n: this is so long, and the beginning is kind of slow but like, i think it’d be pretty dope if you were to stick it out just sayin

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Seungkwan had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Seungkwan asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Seungkwan had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Seungkwan had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Seungkwan would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Hansol and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Hansol.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Mark.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Hansol’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Hansol.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Hansol now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Hansol. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Seungkwan-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JUN—

Jun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jun was not one for traveling. To Jun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jun understands even less why his father and Captain Wonwoo put up with it.

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party.

"Lord Jun," Wonwoo says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this."

And of course, Wonwoo is right. Jun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jun has yet to see the latter tale, Wonwoo is right; Jun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River.

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river.

"Yes," Wonwoo hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season."

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well."

"It does." Wonwoo says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Wonwoo must sense Jun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Soonyoung’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Soonyoung and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Seokmin, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Seokmin’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Seokmin is Prince Seungkwan who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Seungkwan meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Seungkwan the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Seokmin's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court."

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return."

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect.

"Father, you can't-" Seungkwan blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom."

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’.

“You!” Seungkwan shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Seokmin cuts Seungkwan off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Seungkwan is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Seokmin's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Soonyoung's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today." The name Jun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jun’s name before. Jun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago.

“But—” Seungkwan begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Mark to prevent."

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Seungkwan, for Hansol, for Seokmin, for Soonyoung. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Seokmin. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food.

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Seokmin?"

A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Seokmin's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Seokmin. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this."

He smiles again, “Thank you." He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Seokmin pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Seokmin please, I don't need your pity."

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Wonwoo." You vaguely knew of Captain Wonwoo. He was a Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son.

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Seokmin asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely."

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Seokmin radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Seokmin. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Seokmin.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?"

"Were you close to him?"

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. Fortitude spends it immersed in her memories.

Finally, Seokmin speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner.

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Seungkwan to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real.

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Seungkwan,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Seungkwan means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Seungkwan, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Seokmin was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Seungkwan had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered.

“Indeed, he does.”

“Then…” Seungkwan hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Seungkwan was simple and delightful, of a time when Seungkwan was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Seungkwan reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Seokmin. In a way, that makes Seungkwan so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Seungkwan.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.”

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.”

“I wish I knew her.”

Seungkwan laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Soonyoung then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Soonyoung reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Soonyoung long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Seungkwan hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Seungkwan waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.”

“Seungkwan,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Seungkwan telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Seungkwan persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Seungkwan, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Seungkwan, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Seungkwan.”

“Not until-”

There’s another knock at the door. “Seungkwan, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Hansol. “Oh, Hansol,” you say in shock.

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile.

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Seokmin told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire.

“Seokmin sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Seokmin always talks plenty,” Hansol hums, amused but calm.

Hansol, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Hansol turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Hansol was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Hansol contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Hansol, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Hansol was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother.

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Hansol crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Seungkwan's inability to control himself and his emotions."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort.

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too."

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Seungkwan and you?"

You nod although there is no 'Seungkwan and you'. There is only Seungkwan's foolishness and your reason.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew."

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was."

"It appears even time can't change that." Hansol jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again.

"Have you heard any word from Soonyoung?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Hansol's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames.

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.”

“And…?” Hansol asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.”

Hansol sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now."

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.” You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Soonyoung's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Soonyoung to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Soonyoung to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Jeonghan, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Hansol shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Soonyoung decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Hansol sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Hansol's words. Soonyoung is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Soonyoung. Soonyoung trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Soonyoung grew, so did his skill. By the time Soonyoung had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Soonyoung as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Soonyoung that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Soonyoung is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Soonyoung is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache."

Hansol sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

“I hate to ask this—”

“Then don’t.”

“—but why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Hansol, I—”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Hansol. I struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Soonyoung that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Soonyoung before he took off.

Hansol stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Hansol quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Soonyoung? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

“The memory,” Hansol emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Hansol, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry.” Hansol mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room.

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jun and Wonwoo unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human.

Jun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jun can think to describe you.

The King had sent a message to Jun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jun’s and Captain Wonwoo’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jun and Wonwoo were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Wonwoo, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King.

But now, as Jun and Wonwoo walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jun, and Captain Wonwoo." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Soonyoung's throne is empty. Jun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Soonyoung is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes.

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in.

Jun, Wonwoo, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jun had imagined.

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them.

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo affirms, glancing at Jun as if expecting him to say something, but Jun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Wonwoo says to cover Jun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.”

“Yes.” You respond simply.

“If I may, where is Prince Soonyoung? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Wonwoo.” Then you pause. Jun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Soonyoung had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.”

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Wonwoo says in an even but skeptical tone.

"Yes, Prince Soonyoung is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Soonyoung's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jun suspects that Prince Soonyoung has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jun suspects something different. Prince Soonyoung must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in.

Wonwoo clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Mark, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jun and Wonwoo stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jun barely hears it.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo with steady eyes. “Lord Mark was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jun and Wonwoo can even comprehend what you just said.

***

Jun waits for you and Wonwoo in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought.

Jun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained.

Jun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Mark’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jun wonders if Lord Mark was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands.

But then when Jun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jun’s attention your presence in the stables.

Jun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.”

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.”

Jun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear.

“Lord Jun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.”

Jun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy.

Jun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder.

“We’re ready when you are Jun,” Wonwoo says, a laugh dancing under his words.

Jun groans. “How much of that did you hear?”

Wonwoo releases Jun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod.

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jun questions, hurt that Wonwoo seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?”

Wonwoo’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.”

Jun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Wonwoo chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jun is silent, taking his time to understand what Wonwoo means. He returns his attention to his horse.

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Wonwoo isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation.

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Seungkwan. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?”

Wonwoo hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Seungkwan,” Wonwoo clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jun nods, listening half-heartedly to Wonwoo for Jun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles.

Eventually, Wonwoo wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Wonwoo can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jun, Captain Wonwoo, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south.

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Wonwoo and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge.

The Zalazar River is now a green color. Wonwoo comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites.

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly.

“What?” You breathe, and Jun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.”

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and forest green river a little less tensely.

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jun, Wonwoo, and you. Jun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re aware of the way Jun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace.

You exhale sharply.

“Lord Jun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Wonwoo, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.”

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo nearly begging for their acceptance.

“I have a question,” Wonwoo begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.”

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Wonwoo exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets.

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jun notices.

“Are they as untraceable as they say?”

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.”

“You’re very lucky.” Wonwoo tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long.

“I have a question.” Lord Jun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Wonwoo looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice.

“Jun—“ Wonwoo starts.

“What are your powers, Gift?”

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make.

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.”

Lord Jun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?”

“No.”

“So you can die?”

“Yes.”

“By old age?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further.

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much.

--LORD JUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected.

You request to be taken straight to your quarters.

“You’re acting strange.” Wonwoo mutters, watching Jun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jun and Wonwoo at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend.

“How so?” Jun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl.

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate a snack earlier.”

“It’s not just that Jun.” Wonwoo adds, and Jun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Wonwoo sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.”

Jun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Wonwoo. Something about her unsettles me.”

Wonwoo takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.”

Jun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.”

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.”

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Wonwoo.”

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?”

Jun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Wonwoo shakes his head in frustration. “Jun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.”

And with that Wonwoo leaves from the dining room. Jun finishes the rest of his dinner alone.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch.

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.”

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Wonwoo put him up to it.

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.”

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path.

“Lord Jun.”

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence.

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet.

“Wonwoo gave me a very thorough tour this morning.”

Jun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Wonwoo is not the type to spare any details.”

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile.

“Lord Jun,” you address softly, “did Wonwoo put you up to this?”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it.

“Thank you, Lord Jun.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.”

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.”

Jun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.”

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly.

You find yourself to be smiling too.

“Come on,” Jun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.”

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you.

Jun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed.

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Seokmin was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing.

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?”

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.”

Jun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.”

“Oh Jun, we have already bargained and made peace.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.”

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease.

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious.

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.”

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.”

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Seokmin that night.

Dear Seokmin, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude

—LORD JUN—

Jun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest.

“Wonwoo,” Jun calls out. Wonwoo tends to keep Jun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Wonwoo fast asleep. Jun covers Wonwoo with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done.

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known.

“Have you already finished your work Jun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering.

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal.

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.”

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm.

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.”

Jun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Wonwoo.

“How do they work?” Jun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?”

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jun to stand up as well.

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.”

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds.

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.”

Jun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock.

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.”

Jun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales.

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.”

And Jun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jun runs to you immediately.

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard.

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain.

“So,” Jun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug.

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?”

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.”

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Seungkwan misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun. -Seokmin

—LORD JUN—

“The service was long today.” Jun states exiting the temple with Wonwoo and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t think so.” Wonwoo says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?”

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still.

“Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving.

Jun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jun and Wonwoo can stop you.

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble.

The sanctuary Jun, Wonwoo, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jun sick to the stomach.

But that’s not where Jun finds you. Instead, Jun and Wonwoo find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries.

Jun and Wonwoo decide to wait for you outside.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Wonwoo were present today.

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Hansol and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.”

Wonwoo nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Wonwoo’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?”

“I don’t—“

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Wonwoo.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.”

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?”

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.”

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Wonwoo go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.

It’s also the day that Wonwoo reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Wonwoo’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Wonwoo laughs loudly and explains that Jun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Wonwoo’s job.

—LORD JUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Wonwoo to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jun wave goodbye to Wonwoo.

Jun scoffs, side eyeing Wonwoo’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.”

You laugh, and Jun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jun if anything more is needed. Jun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jun notices how you notice.

And when the servant girl leaves, Jun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?”

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach.

“Mina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.”

Jun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words.

“Smile less.”

Jun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.”

Jun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind.

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.”

“You could braid it.” Jun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?”

Jun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin.

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard.

“Would you like me to braid it for you?”

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jun’s offer is genuine or not.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.”

Jun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it.

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind.

“My sister, Jennie, would make me braid her hair sometimes.”

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She’s illegitime, technically. My father had her with another woman before he married my mother.”

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jun finishes the braid off.

“She married an islander, Seungcheol, and lives there with him.” Jun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Jennie and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently.

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.”

And Jun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jun, but today Jun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Soonyoung and his impossible journey, to Hansol and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Mark. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks.

So when Mina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Mina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction.

When you ask why Mina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Mina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Mina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little.

“Mina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jun?”

Mina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I intend to marry him or anything.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Mina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.”

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jun is.”

An embarrassed smile emerges on Mina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.”

You erupt in laughter.

***

If you knew Mina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly.

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow.

To your dismay, Jun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jun himself, your wish is granted.

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it.

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile.

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?”

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?”

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to.

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.”

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jun’s face. “What was that?”

A giggling Jun cowers behind the target and runs.

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Soonyoung being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Mark’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories. It appears that the fog is driving you mad.

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Seokmin you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Seungkwan didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside their mother and your dearest friend, and when she passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Seungkwan could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Seungkwan, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Seokmin and Soonyoung. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Seungkwan loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jun’s estate by Jun, Wonwoo, and Mina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself.

“Jun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?”

He shakes his head. “Wonwoo calls this spot the insomniac's bed.”

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly.

You wait for Jun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.”

“Yes, but what about this cliff?”

Jun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.”

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.”

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further.

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years.

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Jeonghan died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured.

You study Jun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Soonyoung,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.”

And with the way Jun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him.

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.”

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?”

“Depends.”

Jun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jun.”

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways.

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.”

“So then why don’t you?”

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old.

“Good night, Jun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.”

***

Dear Seokmin, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Soonyoung too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Seungkwan that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it.

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.”

“Oh,” Jun says softly.

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.”

“Six?” Jun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.”

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.”

You squint at him.

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?”

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.”

It was Jun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.”

Jun starts pulling his shoes off.

“Well,” Jun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jun nods, and

you run.

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it.

Jun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you.

When you finally reach the top, Jun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist.

Jun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jun back. Jennie used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jun had convinced himself he was. Jun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jun would spend years staring at the blue water.

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you.

You meet his eyes, and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries.

Jun hesitates.

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?”

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling.

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Chan, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.”

Jun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude.

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold.

“Forgive me if I intruded.”

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.”

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?”

Jun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jun wants to know.

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do.

You tell Jun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Chan and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself.

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.

“Where’d they take you?”

You halt at Jun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.”

Jun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have.

“Did you get to see your family again?”

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jun to even hear.

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Chan.” You tell Jun with a smile. “By the time we became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. The Queen went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Chan and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “the Queen was killed.”

Jun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Jeonghan, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Chan much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue.

“Is that why you switched sides?”

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Chan had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Jeonghan struck me a deal. Jeonghan said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Chan.”

You stop to breathe. Jun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jun thinks it’s wrong, what King Jeonghan did. Jun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jun’s thinking.

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Jeonghan wasn’t much older than me. Jeonghan watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Jeonghan was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 12. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Chan take his dying breath.”

Through the memories you share with him, Jun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war.

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.”

Jun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know?

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jun can’t trust himself to look at you.

You’re quiet.

“I regret it all.”

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret.

The small part of Jun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him.

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 12 when this all happened.

“Fortitude,” Jun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.”

Jun can see something in you come apart. Jun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes.

And when Jun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current.

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?”

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.”

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Jeonghan didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

You sigh, but in the next moment you’re nearly laughing. Jun helplessly wonders how you’re able to change your mood so quickly, and then he wonders how you’re able to let go of things so easily.

“You know Jun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.” You say with the likeness of a laugh.

Jun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind.

“Chan?”

Jun nods, and you look up to the sky.

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jun tastes the salt on his lips.

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner.

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Mina brings out plates with your meals.

“I am, thank you Jun.” You take a bite of your food.

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?”

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after.

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.

“Jun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.”

Jun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright Jun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.”

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jun watches you go.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Wonwoo finally returns to Jun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Mina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you.

Later that day, you and Wonwoo ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Wonwoo’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh.

“He tends to get very…” Wonwoo trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.”

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

“How do you mean?”

“I heard you were close to Jun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jun I worry about.”

“And who’s here to worry about you?”

Wonwoo sighs. “Thank you for the concern.”

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Wonwoo spends the entire day in his room and Jun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too.

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Seokmin.

“Come in.”

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.”

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo.”

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Mina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Mina. “Lord Jun requested that you attend the service as well.”

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted.

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Wonwoo.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you”

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”

Jun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Wonwoo appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Mina, head to the temple in a solemn silence.

The temple is a sea of red. Wonwoo whispers to you that Jun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service.

You inhale.

You watch as Jun and Wonwoo throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Mina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone.

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break.

Jun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so.

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Seungkwan had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Soonyoung and Seokmin were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears.

You had burned a fire for your old friend, and you had burned a fire Jeonghan. But you never even lit a match for Chan; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father.

Jun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the princes’ mother, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Jeonghan, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Chan who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Mark and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn.

You forget Jun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Soonyoung, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Soonyoung.

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Wonwoo came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Wonwoo’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jun’s absence greatly.

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud.

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down.

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Soonyoung received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment.

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries.

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Wonwoo’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun the truth; the truth you owe them.

“Did Soonyoung respond to your Risal?” Jun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no.

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jun and Wonwoo share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Soonyoung was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run.

You recall to Jun and Wonwoo the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Soonyoung came to you sad and betrayed and alone.

“This isn’t right,” Soonyoung muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Soonyoung had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Seokmin joined these meetings. Then Seungkwan did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Soonyoung sat with you. Seokmin was on a northern campaign, and Seungkwan travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless.

“He can’t do this,” Soonyoung had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.”

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down.

“Prince Soonyoung, what are you suggesting?”

“Soonyoung,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea.

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Soonyoung slammed his hand down on the table.

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Soonyoung’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?”

And so you started planning Soonyoung’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father.

“We kept it a secret, Soonyoung and I,” you continue. Jun and Wonwoo listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Hansol. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Soonyoung so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Soonyoung and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Soonyoung and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad.

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Soonyoung. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Soonyoung got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Soonyoung came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King.

It’s Wonwoo who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Soonyoung?”

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.”

Jun chokes on his water.

You continue on with the story, unbothered.

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Soonyoung go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Mark with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Mark was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Mark was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—”

Jun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength.

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold.

“So that’s why Soonyoung was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Wonwoo and Jun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget.

It’s Wonwoo who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan the truth too.”

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.”

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Hansol, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jun asks, you know.

Jun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Jeonghan and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones.

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Soonyoung to them?

The dinner ends abruptly when Wonwoo stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jun do the same soon after.

You write to Seokmin that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Soonyoung, the experiments, Lord Mark, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Seokmin to extend this information to Seungkwan as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers.

The response from Seokmin comes a few days later.

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Mark. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Seungkwan and I, we already knew. Soonyoung told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Seokmin

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Seungkwan around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Soonyoung. And setting silly traps for Seokmin. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Soonyoung told them the truth. And you’re glad he did.

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JUN—

Jun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair. Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not.

“It must be hard,” you say as Jun sections your hair into three parts, “for Wonwoo to spend so much time away from his family.”

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck.

“Yes, it must.”

The next day Jun tells Wonwoo to go back home.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wonwoo laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely.

“Go home, Wonwoo.” Jun insists. “Paid leave.”

Wonwoo packs up his things that very night.

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Seokmin, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Soonyoung. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Wonwoo left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Wonwoo everything. Jun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof.

He hates the quiet.

“Lord Jun! Come quick!” Mina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, ��I think she plans to jump.”

Jun runs.

He runs past Mina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs.

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jun’s heart stops.

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jun and Mina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.”

“Lady Gift!” Mina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“

Jun puts a hand on Mina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop.

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?”

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond.

Jun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.”

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Mina stiffen beside him.

“Lord Jun, what are you doing?” Mina asks frantically.

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean.

“Jun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not.

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.”

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed.

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.”

You smirk. Then disappear from Jun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump.

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall.

Jun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jun watches. Amazed.

It’s when Mina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water.

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath.

And dives.

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up.

But Jun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Mina pulls you both out of the water. And Jun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jun falls into the sand beside you.

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Mina says scurrying away in the sand.

Jun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted.

“It looked like you were dying,” Jun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?”

“I don’t want to die, Jun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?”

You shake your head.

“Then what?”

“I wanted to feel mortal.”

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.”

Jun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.”

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms.

—LORD JUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry.

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not.

Jun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish.

Jun extends everything he knows to you.

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time.

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean.

***

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Wonwoo asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.”

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.”

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display.

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.”

Jun smiles a bit. “How so?”

You hesitate, looking at Jun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.”

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jun feels suddenly warm.

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Is it?”

Jun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jun.

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?”

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Jeonghan died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…”

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end.

This time the tapping comes from Jun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?”

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Jeonghan died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face.

“I remember the fire that was lit for Jeonghan, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met the princes’ mother.”

You pause, and in the silence Jun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat.

“I’m scared, Jun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Wonwoo, Hansol, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan; hell even Mina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn.

“Oh how happy Wonwoo will be to hear all this.”

Jun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.”

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away.

“And Jun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.”

Jun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning.

***

Jun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive.

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other.

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?”

“Perhaps.”

Jun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Hansol?” Jun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jun are sitting in the courtyard.

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap.

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?”

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly.

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want.

You read and then reread the letter from Seungkwan. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Seungkwan, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Seungkwan never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Seungkwan; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Seungkwan climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Seungkwan is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.

“Is something wrong?” Jun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Seungkwan’s heart in your bags.”

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back.

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Seungkwan then?” The question sounds hopeful.

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Seungkwan is like a child to me.”

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?”

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Seungkwan since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Wonwoo by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Seungkwan still acts like a child.” Jun smiles at that.

“Oddly enough,” Jun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.”

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Seungkwan’s apology. Something in your mind clicks.

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Seungkwan. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Seungkwan can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.”

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Seungkwan, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.”

You repeat it in your mind.

He doesn’t want to lose you either.

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Seungkwan’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Seungkwan feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Seungkwan must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself.

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept.

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms.

***

That night she sends a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Seungkwan.

—LORD JUN—

Jun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Seungkwan.

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Jennie?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.”

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?”

“Actually,” Jun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?”

***

The boat ride to the island Jennie lives on is pleasant. Jun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Jennie, and you listen to Jun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Jennie’s children and then some more for yourselves.

By late afternoon they reach Jennie and her husband Seungcheol’s house. Jun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters.

“Hold on,” Jun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.”

The sea.

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jun feels at home despite being hours away from it.

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more.

“Uncle Jun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug.

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.”

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand.

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jun clutches his stomach in laughter.

“Jun!” Jennie yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!”

“You’re torturing them Jennie!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.”

Jennie scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jun into a hug.

Jun leads Jennie to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Jennie resposds that she’s napping and that Seungcheol’s watching her.

You stand up to greet Jennie.

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.”

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.”

“Well, in that case,” Jennie coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.”

***

Jennie, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Jennie begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jun and Seungcheol are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Seungcheol puts up the cards while Jun watches you and Jennie converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably.

“Jun, you must stay here longer.” Seungcheol insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.”

Jun hesitates. “I don’t know. Wonwoo is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.”

“Oh please,” Jennie dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Wonwoo sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.”

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jun. I had no idea.” Jun dismisses the apology.

Seungcheol and Jennie share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Jennie scoffs, turning dramatically to you.

“Would you mind humouring Seungcheol with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Wonwoo and you went. Jun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing.

“I’m no joke.” Seungcheol defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.”

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Seungcheol takes it eagerly.

Jun likes this. How you tease Seungcheol. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence.

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Seungcheol yelps in shock, and Jennie hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jun, and the two of you share a look of your own.

And through the silent conversation, Jun knows. Wonwoo would have to wait a bit longer for your return.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Wonwoo telling him that you and Jun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jun I said happy birthday. You do.

Later that day, Jennie requests you and Jun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night.

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand.

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jun. Jun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb.

But then Jun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy.

—LORD JUN— The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Jennie and Seungcheol seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jun happy as well.

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Jennie’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat.

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Here.” Jun hands you the extra coat.

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?”

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.”

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time.

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.”

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jun not telling you was an insult. Jun positions himself closer.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible.

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Jennie and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jun comes to realize that what you tell him now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to.

He stares at you, frozen. And Jun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Chan, Jeonghan, your parents, the princes’ mother. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured.

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Wonwoo, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.”

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips.

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders.

—LORD JUN—

Jun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do.

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jun’s restless heart.

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jun’s coat.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further.

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Jennie announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Jennie who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed.

“How about this?” Jennie offers holding up a red dress.

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“For Jun.” Jennie says it blandly.

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jun?” You echo.

“Nevermind then,” Jennie sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Jennie leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness.

The bodice of the dress Jennie brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways.

Jennie was right. Jun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?”

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Jennie lent it to me for the night.”

“Ah,” Jun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t?

The dinner is a feast like Jennie had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jun follow you out.

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up.

“Please, Jun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back.

“No. Tell me what’s happened.”

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.”

You push your door open, and Jun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near.

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Jennie’s red dress in your hands.

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound.

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.”

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of.

Jun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jun’s voice.

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.”

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love.

You fling your hand out of Jun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jun.

And suddenly, Jun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently.

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder.

“Leave me be, Jun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jun shuts the door quietly.

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well.

***

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head.

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JUN—

Jun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops.

Dear Jun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either. But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please. -Jun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Jeonghan. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind.

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him.

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body.

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jun again, really look at Jun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do.

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything.

And Jun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

—LORD JUN—

Jun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now.

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jun.

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips.

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?”

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home.

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Wonwoo. He nods, turning to you.

“And how about you, what do you miss?”

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water.

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jun counts the seconds. One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four. Five. (He kisses you) Six.

You return to the estate finally, greeting Wonwoo drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jun return from Jennie and Seungcheol’s home that you and Wonwoo fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jun. And when you told Wonwoo at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well.

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Wonwoo attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Wonwoo is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Wonwoo would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Wonwoo gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Wonwoo in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Wonwoo for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jun to watch.

—LORD JUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jun. Jun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Wonwoo catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves.

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jun must do work in his office, Wonwoo and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Seokmin and Seungkwan and another unanswered one to Soonyoung.

You and Wonwoo continue training without Jun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Wonwoo, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight.

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Mina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy.

The happiest you look, however, is when Mina asks you to teach her something. You make Mina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jun mentions this, you deny it telling Jun it’s only because you taught Hansol and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Mina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jun has never been so happy.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Seungkwan.

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Seokmin and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Seokmin fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Soonyoung soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Soonyoung as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Hansol and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Hansol a punch for me. -Seungkwan

You think a visit from Hansol might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Wonwoo and Jun.

***

You’re in the kitchen with Mina eating fruit when Hansol arrives.

“He’s here.” Jun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods.

So you grab his hand and run.

The first thing you do when you see Hansol is punch him, as hard as Seungkwan would.

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?”

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Seungkwan.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.”

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Hansol, Jun, and Wonwoo have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Hansol some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk.

“How long are you staying?”

Hansol sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.”

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.”

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Hansol says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Seungkwan told me you two made peace.”

“We did.” You hum with a smile.

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Hansol tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, Jennie, Seungcheol, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Hansol the specifics.

Hansol listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jun?”

Your mouth drops, and you look at Hansol shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.”

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Hansol happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Hansol.”

He stops in his tracks. “Really?”

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Wonwoo and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response.

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.”

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Hansol jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight.

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Hansol laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, the guards, Hansol’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Hansol, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Hansol is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Hansol will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Wonwoo, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything.

You circle each other for a second, and when Hansol does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Hansol is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Hansol is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Hansol the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back.

“Surrender.” You pant.

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.”

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause.

—LORD JUN— “Does that hurt?” Jun asks you, poking at one of the bruises on your stomach that’s already turning purple and blue. You don’t even wince.

“Not anymore.” You say nonchalantly pulling the end of your shirt back down. It was only minutes ago that you and Hansol were pouncing on each other in the courtyard like wildcats. Hansol was so exhausted after the fight he probably would have passed out there on the grass if Wonwoo hadn’t dragged him back to his room to rest up. You, on the other hand, look as if you’ve only gone on an easy run. Jun walked you to your room expecting you to want to rest, but instead you’re laying on the bed with him looking rather awake.

“Are you even tired?” He asks.

You shrug. “About as tired as I am after our swims.”

Jun chuckles. “I suppose another power you wield is the inability to tire then.”

You hum, pouting your lips. “Does it make you upset when I’m fighting?”

“No. Should it?”

“No, it’s just that” you hesitate, “there have been certain men who would take offense when I fought in the past. They found it improper.” Jun snorts, dismissing the notion entirely. You look amused at his response.

He throws an arm over you. “Actually, it was nice seeing you struggle to win something for once.”

You roll your eyes. “You should see the other guy.”

“I did.” Jun says gravely. “And I’m afraid he won’t wake up after that fight.”

You scoff. “He’ll be fine. Plus,” your voice turns serious, “I actually did struggle to win that fight.”

Jun looks at you unamused. “Is that a joke?”

You lift your head from the bed. “What?”

“The fight didn’t even last five minutes. Hansol barely got in five good punches.”

“Exactly,” you defend, “that’s the most I’ve struggled in a fight since the Holy Wars.”

Jun drops his head back on the bed. “You’re unbelievable. I’m taking a nap now, goodnight.”

You roll him off the bed.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Hansol all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Mark’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Soonyoung the night before he left?”

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Soonyoung that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh.

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember.

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?”

“Soonyoung told Seokmin and Seungkwan before he left. Seungkwan told me. We all had questions for you. But Seokmin was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Seungkwan weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?”

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Soonyoung that night?”

You look at Jun. Then Wonwoo. Then Hansol; he nods. All three watch you carefully.

Jun and Wonwoo look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel.

Hansol starts laughing at the madness of it all.

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Jeonghan, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Soonyoung.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jun, Hansol, and Wonwoo, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Soonyoung. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Soonyoung find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jun, Wonwoo, and Hansol have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings.

“What is that?”

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.”

“No, no. It’s a drawing.”

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.”

The three boys share a look.

“What do you mean you think?”

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?”

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Soonyoung.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Soonyoung will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky.

Hansol shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jun. Weaker than after your fight with Hansol. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory.

You fall to your knees, Jun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Wonwoo who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JUN—

Jun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Mina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jun. But last night was nothing like what Jun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jun tries to think of something else.

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jun asks if you’re feeling any better.

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed.

Jun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Soonyoung?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away.

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Soonyoung, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently.

“What’s it say?” Jun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself.

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.”

“Jun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds.

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.”

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?”

“I hate to say it, but you—“

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.”

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Soonyoung’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Hansol’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Soonyoung castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea.

But you pack your bags instead, send Soonyoung a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jun and Wonwoo that night. You and Hansol would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JUN—

Jun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Hansol’s squadron and needing to catch up to you.

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jun realize he’s crying. Hansol leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy.

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.”

“All the more reason not to, Jun.”

He squeezes his arms around you.

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely.

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—”

“Tell me something to make me hate you.”

“—I can’t.”

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other.

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.”

“I’ll come back, Jun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.”

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.”

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i present to you my heart and soul, if you actually read this whole thing wow good for you this fic is way too long for it’s own good but i ended up getting attatched to too many of the plotlines to take anything more out. fun fact, this was actually an original work that I took some stuff out of and converted into a fic. there’s definitely more to come in this story but idk if i’ll ever get around to actually writing it. I just want to share that I’ve been sitting on this wip/world for literally a year now, and if anyone remembers that random soonyoung drabble that i posted last year it’s the same world as this okay bye

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