#clan inner politics and matters

[cienie-isengardu]

Honor: Bi-Han’s disillusion vs Kuai Liang’s idealism

Did you notice how Bi-Han in the previous timeline barely talks about honor in contrast to his younger brother?

Like in Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Bi-Han does not describe himself as honorable man or part of honorable clan, as in his own introduction he calls himself mortal, then thief and assassin before Lin Kuei warrior and Sub-Zero

When accused by Raiden for putting Earthrealm in danger, only says "I was just earning my living" - considering how he balances between death and life, as he either fulfill incredible difficult missions or he will be killed for failure sounds to me more like "I'm trying to survive" kind of argument.

The Elder Sub-Zero mentions honor only when facing the Grandmaster

"Grandmaster, in honor of the Lin Kuei, I bring you this sacred Map of Elements."

as Lin Kuei custom demands and MK11 Noob Saibot's BIO points out Wraith's desire to reclaim the honor that was forcibly taken away from him

Mortal Kombat 11: "Shadow of the Netherrealm. In life, Noob Saibot was known as Sub-Zero. Unjustly murdered by Scorpion, he was resurrected by Quan Chi and granted power over darkness, but as Quan Chi’s slave. Now, Quan Chi is dead. Noob Saibot is finally free to reclaim the honor that was stolen from him."

and that is basically all? None of Noob’s intro dialogue directly uses this word but honor (and honoring someone or something or alternatively, dishonor) is one of Kuai Liang's constant used term, from 

Mortal Kombat 9

"[...] assuming Bi-Han's identity is the best way to honor him."

or

"I am his family and clan! I fight for his honor!"

Mortal Kombat X

"Our honor is indeed stained. Please. Sit."

&

"After you and I were freed from Quan Chi's control, I sought out my clan. I had hoped rebellion from within would have quashed the Grandmaster's plans. But Sektor had realized his father's vision. The Lin Kuei had been fully cyberized. I pledged to kill Sektor and his followers. Reform the Lin Kuei and restore our honor."

&

"When I finally killed Sektor, I discovered the Lin Kuei had not sacrificed its honor with the Cyber Initiative. We had abandoned it long before."

 to Mortal Kombat 11

Erron Black: That's some outfit. Sub-Zero: It honors Lin Kuei tradition.

or

Liu Kang: I admire your discipline, Sub-Zero. Sub-Zero: And I your honor, Liu Kang.

or

Mileena: You're so cold to me, Sub-Zero. Sub-Zero: Because you are utterly devoid of honor. Mileena: Who needs honor when you have power?

or

Sub-Zero: Can Tarkatans be redeemed? Baraka: My tribe seeks no redemption. Sub-Zero: Then it has no honor.

or 

Sub-Zero: You serve Shao Kahn. Kollector: And I am well compensated. Sub-Zero: Wealth without honor is pointless.

to name few examples.

And this seems to be carried out to the new timeline even though the games don't exploit much this difference between brothers, the Bi-Han’s disillusion vs Kuai Liang’s idealism. Previous timeline gives the feeling Elder Sub-Zero was more aware of Lin Kuei's true nature, as he witnessed Grandmaster and Quan Chi's deal that resulted in death of Scorpion's clan but Kuai Liang would not believe Lin Kuei could be responsible until he found a hard evidence how wrong he was. Now, one brother sees Lin Kuei servitude as enslavement while the other blindly believes and chose to honor the tradition passed down for generations.

At the same time I feel like original timeline Kuai Liang, the same as his elder brother, was much more disillusioned about Lin Kuei but I will leave that subject for another time.

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]

[kaeyas-beloved]

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

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@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood

[buttclench-ryugazaki]

picture this: after maya takes her position as master of the kurain channeling technique the kurain village elders immediately start pressuring her to get married and produce an heir, an idea she's opposed to. she'd already resolved to ascend to master years ago meaning she's thought long and hard about which traditions she'd work to keep and which to discard. she is not going to let things like established main and branch families tear her clan apart like it did with her mother and aunt. but maya is smart and knows that this is a matter of village politics that she must be strategic about. tradition doesn't change overnight and as the young and newly-appointed master, she doesn't actually have that much sway. outright defiance won't work. so she negotiates and goes along with taking a spouse so long as she alone gets to pick regardless of the elders' approval.

said spouse has to fit a number of criteria: 1) they would need to not have an ego and be secure enough in their own life to be okay with holding no power within the village. be it because they'd be a man living in a matriarchal community or because maya would always outrank them regardless of gender. 2) they would have to be keen on living in a rural, traditional japanese-style town in the mountains. 3) they are not precious or sentimental about the concept of marriage and would not be offended by maya's pragmatism. 4) loyal to maya and would not defer to the village elders; in fact, someone who isn't afraid to put foolish old people in their place, obligatory respect for seniors be damned, would be helpful. more importantly, the blatant disregard would be REALLY funny. 5) needs to be able keep up with maya's steel samurai obsession. 6) ideally they should be someone crazy enough to accept maya's proposal merely because she had the guts to ask

somehow, on maya's shortlist of eligible candidates from her and phoenix's inner circle, the most fitting one is the twisted samurai simon blackquill of all people. and thus on her next trip to the city, she plans to drop by the prosecutors' office to make one very odd request

[relicsongmel]

Thinking about Iris' very open disdain for spirit channeling and how it seemingly contradicts many other elements of her character.

Let me explain—Iris prior to the end of BttT is a woman who only knows facades, covering up the truth, and only presenting herself exactly as she wants others to see her. We see this over and over again throughout the course of the story: she hides her real identity while dating Phoenix, she does damage control for Dahlia and Godot to help them avoid blame for their crimes, and she is extremely selective about which information she chooses to disclose to specific people depending on whatever role she finds herself playing in that moment (daughter, girlfriend, accomplice, etc). Her demeanor as a whole is also rather meek and unassuming, and she's shown to be exceptionally kind; she expresses favorable opinions on most everyone she meets, even those continuously treated poorly by other characters (like Larry) or those that have objectively done reprehensible things (like Dahlia).

All of this stands in stark contrast to her saying in no uncertain terms that she hates spirit channeling:

This stands out to me because it is one of very few things that Iris is completely forthright honest about in the early portion of this case. After spending all day avoiding Phoenix and now carefully dodging his questions towards her in hopes of preventing the truth of her deception from coming out (all of this while actively avoiding her responsibilities at the Inner Temple because of Larry's "blackmail" letter which also threatened to expose her "secret"), why is this the one bit of truth she chooses to divulge here? Or rather: why is this the one thing she seemingly cannot lie about?

Obviously the answer lies in Iris' past and the permanent damage that was done to her and her family due to the politics of the Fey clan, with the Kurain Channeling Technique at the root, and the DL-6 incident as the event that brought everything to ruin. Iris bore witness to her mother Morgan losing the title of Master of Kurain due to her inferior powers and the despair that caused her, then three years later saw her aunt Misty who, despite purportedly being so much better than her mother, made a mistake while channeling that led to an innocent man's conviction, disgracing the Fey name and causing her to flee the village in shame. With this in mind, it makes sense that Iris would feel so strongly about spiritual powers doing more harm than good; after all, she has firsthand experience of the damage that can be done to the women that have it.

But what of the women that don't have it—namely, Iris herself? What happens to a spirit medium, born of the Fey bloodline, daughter of the then-master of her channeling school, when she's shown to not have any spiritual powers? I'm of the opinion that Iris' hatred is not only a product of what she's seen happen to her mother and aunt, but also very closely tied to what is, essentially, her earliest failure in life—after all, what good is a medium who can't channel? Fey women are raised to believe that their worth is linked to how well they can perform the service of their clan, which is the same reason why Maya beats herself up for failing to channel Mia in Turnabout Goodbyes and Pearl does the same with Dahlia later in this case. In a sense, Iris' hatred of spirit channeling is an externalization of her own self-hatred—unlike Dahlia, who mainly copes by lashing out and seeking revenge on those who wrong her, Iris is far too gentle and loving to lay blame on any one person. But all that repressed guilt and anger still has to go somewhere—and it manifests through this one small crack in her otherwise flawless facade. The one thing she cannot bring herself to find beauty in no matter how much she tries. The one thing that should have given her purpose but didn't—leaving her no choice but to mold herself beyond recognition over and over into roles that aren't truly her own, but at the very least give her meaning where she was denied it before.

And knowing her? She probably hates that flaw more than anything.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

You are the human ambassador to an incredibly closed, isolationist clan of creatures - orcs or werebeasts of some kind, huge and feared and with a culture all their own you are determined to make your kinfolk understand and acknowledge - by virtue of being the first one to work out that although only their own kind are allowed inside their encampments, a scent-claimed mate is considered of their own kind no matter what the species.

You came to an arrangement with one of them back when you were both technically enemies, counterparts on either side of a drawn out cold war who eventually realised they had more in common with each other than with any of your respective superiors. Every visit you meet this friend just outside the border, and they greet you politely before hoisting you up against a nearby tree as you unfasten your robe hurriedly, thrusting into you and growling as they rub the scent glands at the side of their face over your collarbone, neck and bare chest. Once they are satisfied, once you are marked as theirs with their cum drying in your inner thighs, you both get back in the carriage together while you tidy yourself, and you walk safely through the streets to negotiate for a ceasefire to become a truce to become something more lasting and mutually beneficial even than that.

Mutually beneficial. That's all it is. Or so you tell yourself, for a long time. But as treaties are drawn up and signed and the need for your visits becomes less, fewer and further apart, they start to claim you just a little differently. A little rougher, a little longer. Sometimes you end up pinned to the ground under them instead of up against a tree, and they pause for long moments after they are done with their softening cock still buried inside you and giant bulk holding you down. You try to be amiable and allow them whatever they need - perhaps it's been a bad day, or something like that - but eventually you decide to ask them what is wrong.

Your dear, hulking beast of a friend hides their face from you like a nervous child and confesses that they have ruined the agreement. They have crossed an unforgivable line, allowed themselves to pretend you were really theirs and think of you as a mate, not simply a friend and ally. They are so sorry for-

Everything in this moment hinges on your response. You could interrupt them and kiss them hard, guide their hands back to your body and tell them you want nothing more than to be exactly that; theirs. You could interrupt them and kiss them soft on the cheek, squeezing their shoulder while you tell them you could never be angry at such a dear friend but you need them to know cannot give them what a mate should.

Everything hinges on this moment. You decide, and you respond.

.

[weasleytwinwheezes]

nina cried power |tsu'tey x reader|

part two of this

a/n: please forgive me lovelies :) i can't help but crave the chaos, currently working on the final part!

warnings: angst, cliff hangers, one singular cuss word

vocab ‘Itan: son - sa'nok: mother - syvue: food - tsngan: meat - tute: female - oel ngati kameie: i see you

Days. Weeks. Months. 

You no longer kept count, why should you when your heart has stopped beating the moment her hand touched his? Why should you be held responsible for keeping score of the days that had passed? Why was your heart the one to be consistently broken over Tsu’tey and Sylwanin?

You knew the blame you placed on him was not fair. It was not called for, yet that didn’t stop the anguish from rising in your chest every time you were a witness to their growing love. No matter how far you distanced yourself from the clan, there was always talk of their future Olo’eytukan and Tsahik. 

Everyone was waiting for the day the two of them were officially mated, the day the clan would welcome the new leaders. But you knew in your heart, you would run away before you ever had to see it come true. 

It was no surprise that you had changed dramatically since that night. You traded your bright beaded tops for dull feathered ones instead. No longer wishing to finally catch the eye of your oldest friend. 

But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to hide away, Tsu’tey always noticed you. He was no fool. He knew how hurt you had been, the look on your face so raw and full of anguish. No one could have missed you running away towards the woods. 

He himself would have been surprised if he hadn’t been told mere minutes before the announcements. It was a reminder that he could never fully choose his future. No part of him had ever craved to mate with Sylwanin, but every fiber of him ached to be with you. You who had stuck by his side through everything, through the fights with his family, his flight of passage, and every other challenging moment. You were a constant, you were his. 

————————————————————

“Ah, Y/N, he is staring at you again. You must put him out of his misery,” Ninat giggled, lowly gesturing to the group of warriors across the way. 

Eyes quickly darting upwards, your heart sank as you met the eyes of Orew. The slightest glimmer of hope, wishing your eyes met his. 

“Ninat! Do not spread rumors you baby! I know nothing of this misery you speak of! Orew is nothing but a skawang, a foolish boy,” you hissed, face heating as she just laughed harder at you. 

Bearing your teeth at your friend, you turned your attention towards the necklace you were making. Smiling downwards at the colorful gems you had spent weeks collecting in the forest. So absorbed in your work, you didn’t hear the footfalls behind you.

“That necklace is going to look beautiful on you,” a deep voice rumbled, spooking you from your inner thoughts. 

Quickly looking up, you met the sparkling eyes of Orew. Heart racing in your chest from being snuck up on, a polite smile gently finding home on your face. 

“Thank you Orew, it is quite pretty but it’s not for me. It’s for someone very special to me,” you answered sincerely, hoping he would just walk away. 

“Well they are very lucky. One could only be so lucky to wear something you’ve crafted for them. I hope to one day be so lucky,” he spoke confidently, before sending you a striking smile and heading back towards his friends. 

The moment his back was turned, Ninat tightly grabbed your arm and practically screamed, “He is so into you!” 

Rolling her eyes as you pushed her away, you were oblivious to the tall na’vi watching you closely from the treeline. 

—-------------------------------

One thing about the clan was that the minute a rumor was whispered, it spread like wildfire throughout the entire village. Whether it was true or not hardly mattered, as long as the members of the clan had something to keep their days interesting. 

So it was no surprise to you when a rumor that Sylwanin was choosing to mate with Ayawon started to make its way through the clan. It wasn’t the first rumor of its likeness to be passed around. From the moment she came of age, every elder sa’nok hoping the name of their ‘itan would stick. The Olo’eytukans family always fell unlucky to the gossiping of small minded na’vi. When you heard this rumor you couldn’t help the hollow laugh that escaped your throat. The harshness of it surprising even yourself. 

Deep down, you and everyone else knew that Sylwanin would never go against her fathers orders. She was promised to Tsu’tey and in order to be the next Tsahik, she would have to make tsaheylu with him. Why would she give up a lifetime of training for a mediocre warrior? When she had the finest warrior the clan had to offer and the future Olo’eytukan? She was no fool and knew the importance of the future of the clan. 

Pushing the rumor out of your mind, you continued on with your day. Spending much of the morning helping forage for herbs with the healers before heading back to the village for syvue. As you walked towards the large fire, whispers flowed throughout the clan already gathered. Grabbing a bowl of tsngan, you found a quiet spot to enjoy your meal. The comfort of the moment ruined when a voice bellowed, “YOU DID WHAT?”

Looking up from your bowl, your eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of you. There before you stood Sylwanin. Hand in Hand with Ayawon, but further than that, they stood with their queues connected as the final sign of mating. Beyond her stood a furious Eytukan, glaring at his eldest daughter. 

Gasps rippled throughout the village as they watched with rapt attention. Rumors were one thing, but you could barely comprehend what was happening. 

“Ayawon and I have mated before Eywa. It is done,” Sylwanin spoke fiercely, never breaking eye contact with her father. 

“If you chose this Sylwanin, you can and will not be Tsahik,” Mo’at rushed out quickly, almost as if hoping her daughter would change her mind. 

“I have made up my mind. I choose him as my mate,” she replied strongly, turning to smile lovingly at her new mate. 

“Then that is how it should be. Sylwanin will no longer lead our clan as Tsahik. She has chosen,” Eytukan declared loudly, “Tsu’tey may choose my youngest Neytiri as his promised and keep his place as future Olo’eytukan or pick a mate of his choice and continue down his path as a warrior. Like Sylwanin, the choice is his.”

Your heart couldn’t take the implications of what just happened and you felt as though you would faint on the spot. Voices erupted from throughout the crowd as the other tute na’vi weighed the newest addition to the mating pool. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes scanned the crowd until they met the familiar yellow ones you adored. Tentatively Tsu’tey raised a hand in a small wave. To anyone else it was insignificant, miniscule in the grand scheme of things. But to you, it was a new beginning. 

It was Tsu’tey telling you Oel ngati kameie. 

You raised your hand to wave back and was on the verge of a genuine smile for the first time in months, when the ground shook and all hell broke loose. 

----------------------------------------------------

taglist: @fanboyluvr @daydreamer2k @fourcefulcupid @brooklynscherry-z @sovereignsylvia @n1ght5h4d3-24 @cupidddd-d @jojo-munson @saltedcoffeescotch @arsonfrogger @nicoletk

[mixelation]

some itachi + romance meta for reborn au ->

so, my personal headcanon for itachi is that he has a lot of little idle romantic fantasies about a nondescript fantasy partner, but it takes a pretty big push for him to go "oh, i love this person." he's open to sex if his partner wants it, but he doesn't really care about it otherwise. in other words, he'd be into a romantic partner if he happened upon one (and, like, he didn't have four thousand other high-priority problems the relationship would be incompatible with), but he's not actively looking and he doesn't really need one to be happy.

in an AU where the massacre didn't happen, I think he'd be open to dating. but in mutagenicity, he DID live through the massacre and being in akatsuki, and he IS mentally 20+ years older than he looks, and oh my god, please don't make him talk to children. especially uchiha children he killed in previous life. please.

i don't think all ninja clans necessarily cling to old fashioned traditions about marriage and bloodlines, but i like the idea of some of them hanging around for Shenanigans. like no one would really care if itachi were gay, as long as he quietly kept his boyfriend as a boyfriend and married someone capable of childbirth and made that new heir. they don't even care if the heir is female! progress :)

but also itachi has a mysterious genetic disease so they're like. hmm yeah okay you may marry outside of the clan. (desperately start researching if there's some sort of Test for sharigan babies)

mikoto has of course Noticed itachi just like.... isn't interested? in even talking to other teens?? so she wants to get him started kind of early. listen itachi, marriage will be SO much easier if you've dated your bride and figured out someone you actually like. also if you don't find one i will simply find one for you at some certain age and you will have no say in the matter.

the first few times she sends him on dates she just socially manipulates a situation where somehow he ends up alone with a girl mikoto likes. the girl is almost always very accomplished for her age, polite, pretty. literally nothing is wrong with her except she's 16 and itachi hates strangers. like, he's fine with them. he can put on a smile and be polite for a limited amount of time. but Inner Itachi is so fucking mean and fucked up, getting socially close to people almost always makes them hate him (for valid reasons) and then also his date is 16. so mikoto keeps putting him in a position where he's inevitably going to make a poor teenaged girl cry because he told her she'll never get promoted to jounin because her mission completion rate is mediocre, which he does often feel bad about, but also he cannot do anything about his horrible personality and cannot help himself. and then even if he likes her, what is he supposed to do? be like "yeah i'm just going to tell you my opinion and it will come out blunt and mean and also i'll be right and refuse to apologize, it's because of my deeply fucked up past life where the state told me i had to pick between murdering my entire family or letting my family destroy everything i care about, sorry about that." no! obviously he can't do that!!!

and his feelings about mikoto in general just, like, insane. she had her hand in supporting the coup in his previous life, but she raised him and loved him, but also she let him kill her so he'd see it in his nightmares constantly, and this mikoto didn't do any of that but he still sees her in his dreams and she is EQUALLY socially manipulative in this timeline, and honestly this is sort of making his feelings about her even more insane, but obviously he can't talk to her about it. so he needs to figure out way to dodge this whole dating situation in order to avoid uchiha massacre #2

so one day he's stealing dango right off tori's plate while she's in the bathroom, and he's like. holy fuck. tori is a girl, and she's not even going to get upset i'm about to do this to her. and then she comes back and is like "why the fuck did you steal my food" and he tells her it's because she did a disproportionately low amount of substandard work on the mission and hence deserves less of the mission budget. and she DOES rub the inside of his sleeping bag down with poison ivy but she also doesn't fucking cry.

itachi, flipping his sleeping bag inside out: perfect. we're dating now. <3

tori is NOT mikoto's top pick because she's a wild card and not the easily controlled nice girl mikoto was aiming for, but. at least itachi seems to actually like her? and she hasn't come crying to mikoto about how her son horrible yet, so. she's even got a decent amount of social clout for (checks note) a defector from another village who seems to go out of her way to be annoying and unlikable. mikoto isn't really thrilled but she backs off

dating is basically nothing like itachi's idle fantasies because tori is also deeply messed up, and also itachi spent a VERY long time in the other timeline convinced she was going to blab his secrets and Ruin Everything and he really wanted to kill her, but also that DID translate into a weird sort of respect pretty early on in this timeline, and they can have actual conversations about stuff. she helped him kill danzo, no questions asked. they like watching bad movies and dragging them to pieces together. she willingly reads his favorite book. they say mean shit to each other and it's fine because they've mutually accepted the other is just like this. it's comfortable. also pointing tori'a ability to ruin everything for everyone is so nice when pointed at someone itachi doesn't like

so even once itachi is old enough he can date Actual Adults, tori is like, "hey are you going to break up with me?" and he's like, "........no?" and she's like "okay." and they move in together and have separate bedrooms and tori attempts to kill him at least twice over burning food so bad it won't come off the pot, but it's comfortable and they're both happy

(and also itachi realizes tori fucking loves going along with bits, so if he tells her he wants to do some stupid romantic thing, she will just go along with it and have fun. wild)

i think they get married kind of late For The Setting (like very late twenties) because it takes tori years to figure out their illegal test tube baby and they just don't really see the point without the baby. mikoto finds this immensely frustrating. but at least they're on the same page, even if it's the WRONG PAGE

[cain-e-brookman]

i was tagged by @illarian-rambling! thanks!

Rules: post brief descriptions of some characters and a poll, then get people to vote on their favorite

okay i've done this for the main cast of book one, lets see how much i can give away for book two characters

propaganda under the cut

Hesperos is a Sky Mage of Clan Galanis who worship the eldest of the Sky God's children: Khrou the Messenger, Goddess of Lightning. Exiled from his clan at a young age, for reasons he won't speak on, he was found off the coast of Vizia on a half-destroyed vessel by a young merchant lord after being abandoned at sea. Although he grew up alongside the carefree culture of the Sea God's children, he keeps to his clan's disciplined philosophy, as to never lose the grace of his goddess. Despite the strict adherence to his religion, Hesperos is, well, a ham. A performer from a young age, he loves nothing more than music, theater, and being the most dramatic person in any given room. He's enjoyed the wealth of his guardian, but never puts on airs and it polite to a detriment. His manners are his shield, as there's much he hides behind a charming word and easy smile.

You have two options. If you want to know her as a friend, you know her as Miss Belle, the owner of the most bustling tavern in Crescaeya: The Sunk Gator, home of the most authentic Marsher cuisine this side of the border. If you want to know her as an enemy, it's General Isabelle Duplantis-LaBoef of the Shadow Kings Army. During the war, she was known as the most ruthless defender on the home front. The only person in history who had ever sunk even a single Vizian ship, let alone three. After the heated peace talks ended, and the Vizian Armada broke their embargo, Miss Belle stayed on with the army long enough to get her sash of medals from the Shadow King, then move north to Uslaria for her restaurant. It's better not to ask too many questions; all good Marshers know this. So no one questions the late night shipments at her door, or how the large woman who always has the private table upstairs resembles a particular Vizian Fleet Admiral...

Anyone who's been in a room with Tavi knows he's royal, no matter what blood or title say. A merchant marine made guild leader, he's known to be as two-faced as they come. In balls and social events, the picture of grace and charm, funny and social. Anyone on the business side knows this is a lie. He's a controlling, stubborn, and hard business man who knows how to get things done. No one can deny he gets results, though, and through a friendship (or more if the rumors are to believed) with the duchess, he's managed to worm himself deep into the inner working of the largest trade city in Uslaria. After years of watching him slowly take control, most now understand why his family signet is an octopus.

Silas was once a carpenter who lived deep into the wild lands tucked into the heart of the Marshes, the Dark Waters, but was pulled from his life during the war with the Fire Mages. Marked by the Silver Moon as the most true Mage in his small town, he was drafted the moment the Marshes were attacked. His time in the Shadow King's army brought him far from home and ended when his unit was attacked in an ambush as they pushed their way through enemy lines in the middle of the night. He spotted the attack before his sleeping camp had, sounded the alarm and held back the assault long enough to give his men a fighting chance. In doing so, he sacrificed himself to the fire, and that night, under the light of the Silver Moon, he died. Or so the casualty report would say. The healers didn't think he'd survive the hour from the burns, but he did, becoming the only living person to ever hold the medal for a sacrificial death in defense of the people of Ixoryn. (He made it very clear when he made it home, he wasn't giving it back.) Now, he lives in Crescaeya as Tavi's live-in bodyguard, able to intimidate most before they even think of hurting his lord. The burn scars on most of his body sends a very clear message: You're gonna have to do worse than this to take me down.

and i'll tag @spideronthesun @skullduggeryandfilibuster @emrowene @topazadine! as always no pressure!

[elysiumania]

title: a dagger's embrace pairing(s): jing yuan/reader warnings: angst, slow burn, violence, hurt/comfort, manipulation, suggestive themes. word count: 11.5k

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 05

previous || next

As you recount the intricate details of your encounter with Jing Yuan to Lady Mingzhu, a spark of mirth and triumph flickers in her eyes. She listens intently, her gaze fixed upon you with unwavering focus, savoring every word that spills forth. Within her, a sense of satisfaction radiates, stemming from the orchestrations she has meticulously woven.

You carefully select the most relevant fragments of your conversation to relay to her. You delve into Jing Yuan's experiences as the esteemed General, unraveling the intricate threads of political affairs that shape the realm. Lady Mingzhu, already well-versed in such matters, absorbs your report with keen interest, further fortifying her profound understanding of the ever-shifting currents of power.

Yet, it is the mention of Jing Yuan's reaction to the delectable delicacies you brought that sparks the most delight in Lady Mingzhu. A subtle smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a glimmer of pride illuminating her eyes. The fact that Jing Yuan expressed a yearning for more of the culinary delights and extended an open invitation for you to visit his office at your leisure stirs a profound sense of accomplishment within her.

This revelation serves as a testament to the progress made, a tangible sign that the fortress guarding Jing Yuan may finally be yielding to the relentless tide of time and closure. Lady Mingzhu keenly recognizes the significance of this development, the boundless potential it holds for shaping the future of the Hongying clan and the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Her satisfaction is palpable as she absorbs your report, the flickering flames of triumph mirrored in the mirth dancing within her eyes. It is a moment of validation, an affirmation that her calculated plans and intricate schemes are bearing fruit.

The matriarch's voice reverberates with a potent blend of satisfaction and intrigue as she delves into the progress made in your mission. With a graceful click, she closes her fan, her nimble fingers folding it shut with practiced precision. You watch her intently, absorbing the aura of confidence that emanates from her every utterance.

"It appears our plans are proceeding as anticipated," she muses, her tone infused with a hint of pride. "The General is proving more receptive than we initially surmised, allowing us a smoother path to navigate the fortifications guarding his heart. Despite his illustrious achievements and the reverence he commands, it seems he is a fool and not impervious to our well-crafted strategies."

You offer a nod of agreement, acknowledging the veracity of her words. Undeniably, Jing Yuan has displayed an unexpected openness, his defenses appearing less impregnable than initially perceived. However, when the matriarch refers to him as a "fool," a fleeting hint of dissent flashes within your gaze.

While you understand the intention behind her remark, driven by her determination to dismantle Jing Yuan's emotional barriers, you find it difficult to wholly concur. The conversation you shared with him revealed an enigma, a man who carefully selected his words, veiling his true intentions beneath layers of artful ambiguity. His responses resembled a cryptic puzzle, necessitating meticulous contemplation and unwavering observation to decipher.

Your keen powers of observation and acute perception were tested to their limits, yet the true essence of Jing Yuan remained elusive, despite your relentless efforts. It is a testament to his enigmatic nature, his ability to exude an aura of mystery even as he allows you closer to his inner sphere.

Jing Yuan's enigmatic allure simultaneously captivates and frustrates you. His smile, an intricate mystery, guards its secrets with unwavering resolve, leaving you yearning for a glimpse into the depths of his true emotions. While unraveling the intentions and sincerity of others may be second nature to you, in the presence of Jing Yuan, it transforms into a formidable challenge.

Every interaction with him feels like an intricate dance, where his congeniality veils the true essence of his thoughts and intentions. He possesses a singular ability to deflect scrutiny effortlessly, deftly diverting attention away from the core of his being. His enigmatic aura both tantalizes and teases, enticing you to unravel the layers that enshroud him, while simultaneously challenging your capacity to breach his defenses.

Yet, amidst the frustration, your commitment to your mission remains unyielding. The veiled barrier that separates you from Jing Yuan only strengthens your resolve to forge ahead. Like a steady force, you refuse to be deterred by his enigmatic nature. Instead, it serves as a catalyst, spurring you to redouble your efforts and confront the formidable obstacle that obstructs your path to understanding him.

Silently, you reflect upon your divergence from the matriarch's assessment. Jing Yuan may not be a fool, but rather a virtuoso of intrigue and strategic concealment. His complexities lie in the depths of his character, awaiting discovery with patience and astute discernment.

The dawn of the next day casts its light upon the fleet, and true to your expectations, Lady Mingzhu summons you once more to Jing Yuan's office. Accompanied by your entourage and carrying the familiar lunch box, you approach the designated meeting place, ready for the day that awaits you. The aura of Lady Mingzhu's satisfaction is almost palpable, a subtle undercurrent that fuels her ongoing charade.

As you reach the entrance, the guard stationed there greets you with a knowing nod, his familiarity evident. It becomes apparent that Jing Yuan has discreetly informed him of your recurrent visits, allowing you swift passage without the need for explanations or formalities. With a silent gesture, he signals for you to step into the waiting starskiff, your entourage remaining behind.

The starskiff glides effortlessly through the air, its propulsion carrying you towards the revered Seat of Divine Foresight. The journey is smooth and serene.

As the starskiff gracefully comes to a halt, you disembark and are greeted by two formidable guards flanking the imposing doors. Their uniforms exude an air of authority and dedication, the pristine sheen of their attire mirroring the precision with which they carry out their duties. With a synchronized motion, they swing open the doors, unveiling the lavish interior of Jing Yuan's office.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the opulence that surrounds you. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation, an electric current that infuses the air. The faint scent of exotic incense lingers, heightening the senses and setting the stage for the enigmatic encounters that unfold within these walls. The light emanating from the large glass window bathes the room in a warm, ethereal glow, casting intriguing shadows upon the tapestries adorning the walls.

In the heart of this captivating tableau was Jing Yuan, rising gracefully from his seat, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. He strides purposefully towards a holographic chessboard, his movements imbued with a fluid elegance that bespeaks his familiarity with this place of strategy and intrigue. Your footsteps falter as you come to a halt before him.

With grace and precision, you present the lunch box to Jing Yuan, a symbol of your commitment to this orchestrated rendezvous. His countenance softens, a glimmer of contentment flickering within his eyes as he acknowledges your presence.

"I am truly grateful for your presence once again.”

"Did you anticipate my visit?"

Jing Yuan responds promptly, his head inclining in confirmation, accompanied by a warm smile. "Indeed, I did. Yet, I must confess that a part of me entertained the possibility that you might not come. After all, it was only yesterday that you graced these halls."

A reciprocal smile graces your lips as you reply, "Yet, here I stand before you."

Jing Yuan's smile widens, his satisfaction palpable. "Please, join me. There is no need to remain standing for too long. The journey from your estate can be quite wearisome."

Expressing your gratitude, you settle into the familiar seats. The room's ambience envelops you with power and intrigue that adorns every corner.

As both of you find your places, the conversation continues to flow, bridging the gap between formality and familiarity. Jing Yuan's inquiry follows the trajectory of your impending departure after the meal, seeking to comprehend the constraints that govern your interactions.

"Will you also be departing after lunch?" he inquires.

"Indeed, I shall. My mother deems it fitting that I do not overstay my welcome, mindful of your valuable time and the duties that claim your attention."

However, it was a fabrication. The matriarch had not expressed any concerns regarding the duration of your stay, and even if you were to extend it, she would not object as long as you kept her informed about your activities with Jing Yuan. It was solely your desire to depart promptly, understanding the pressing responsibilities that demanded his attention, particularly the documents that remained on his desk.

The situation persisted, much like the previous day, with no signs of abating. 

"I have no objections if you choose to prolong your presence. I am capable of fulfilling my duties effectively.”

As Jing Yuan's confident reassurances escaped his lips, a flicker of hesitation danced within your being. Yet, deep down, you recognized the responsibility he carried and knew you couldn't succumb to the temptation before you. Your gaze wandered to his desk, still adorned with stacks of documents, each demanding his undivided attention. The burdens he shouldered were palpable, and you couldn't bear to introduce any distractions.

A fleeting parting of your lips hinted at your desire to respond, only to be promptly silenced as you realized that silence would be your most prudent course of action. You shared an unspoken understanding with Jing Yuan, a tacit agreement acknowledging the delicate equilibrium he meticulously navigated. You were well versed in the rules and regulations governing the Seat of Divine Foresight, and your intent was to honor them.

Even as his betrothed, you resisted exploiting the special treatment Jing Yuan had bestowed upon you. Preserving a sense of decorum and adherence to the protocols that permeated this esteemed place was paramount. Your visits already deviated from convention, lacking formal appointments or prior notice. It remained vital to recognize and uphold the boundaries that encompassed your interactions.

The weight of your station as the betrothed of General Luofu bore down upon you, amplifying the gravity of every action and word that emanated from your being. It necessitated a heightened sense of vigilance, an acute recognition of your place within the intricacies of power dynamics. Yet, you resolved not to cower in the face of adversity, refusing to allow others to trample upon you simply because you were a woman. You possessed an indomitable strength and unfaltering resilience, steadfast in your determination to navigate this wretched world on your own terms.

Seeking solace within the borrowed book from Jing Yuan's office, you immersed yourself in its pages, temporarily escaping the complexities that ensnared you. Settled in your customary spot, your focus honed in on the words before you, their significance gradually permeating your consciousness. It served as a respite, a fleeting intermission from the burdensome weight of expectations and the impending battles that awaited you.

Amidst your fervent reading, you couldn't help but discern stolen glances directed your way by Jing Yuan. Though fleeting and peripheral, you keenly perceived his eyes lingering upon you before he averted his gaze, returning his attention to the documents that commanded his time. 

It left you contemplating his intentions. Did he yearn to broach a topic and ask a question but hesitated, fearful of disrupting your reading? There was no need for such apprehension, for you were always willing to carve out moments for him, to engage in substantive conversation when the occasion called for it.

Returning your focus to the pages of the book, a subtle curiosity lingers within, its presence undeniably palpable. With calculated precision, you surreptitiously steal glances at Jing Yuan, patiently awaiting the opportunity to ensnare his gaze. It doesn't take long for your patience to be rewarded, as your eyes engage in a silent exchange of understanding.

Jing Yuan's lips curl into a modest smile, an unspoken connection forged between you. Seizing this fleeting opportunity, you decide to address the tacit tension that hangs in the air, subtly prompting him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you have any queries for me?" you inquire, your tone composed and unwavering. Jing Yuan shakes his head in response, a faint furrow forming upon his brow, betraying a hint of confusion.

"Nothing comes to mind. Pray tell, why do you ask?" 

With an air of candidness, you make your astute observation known. "Jing Yuan, you have been surreptitiously stealing glances at me for quite some time now. It seems as though there is something on your mind that you wish to convey."

A soft chuckle escapes Jing Yuan's lips, his eyes shimmering with a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I beg your pardon if I have given off such an impression. My sole intent was to ensure your comfort within these walls."

Running the tip of your tongue over your lower lip, you take a momentary pause, thoughtfully mulling over his response. It becomes evident that his intentions were rooted in genuine concern, albeit tinged with a trace of uncertainty. With measured deliberation, you carefully choose your words before responding.

“I am entirely comfortable.”

As you contemplated your response, a profound realization of the authenticity behind your words washed over you. The comfort found within Jing Yuan's office surpassed that of the ancestral estate where you had resided for countless centuries. Although a lingering wariness still clung to your senses, you couldn't deny the tranquility and serenity that permeated the expansive chamber. Within its walls, a profound sense of peace embraced you. The only sounds that dared to disturb the stillness were the gentle hum of the starskiff's engines, the delicate scratching of Jing Yuan's pen against paper, and the hushed whispers of the pages as you turned them.

It was indeed relaxing that you want to relish it.

A soft utterance from Jing Yuan punctuates the silence, carrying a genuine concern in its tone. 

"Is that so? I am glad to hear that you find solace within these walls," he says, his voice imbued with a gentle warmth. "If you ever require anything, do not hesitate to seek my aid."

You offer a nod of gratitude, acknowledging his benevolent offer. The unspoken understanding between you deepens, solidifying the bond you have cultivated. Once more, tranquility settles over the room, enveloping you both in a shared recognition of the necessity for unwavering focus and undisturbed concentration.

As you resume your reading, a fleeting thought flutters through your mind, igniting a spark of curiosity. Does Jing Yuan dedicate his days solely to tending to these documents? Does his diligence define the entirety of his pursuits, or does he engage in other endeavors beyond the confines of this office? It is a question that stirs your inquisitiveness, hinting at the intricate layers of complexity that lie beneath his composed exterior.

You smoothly transitioned your thoughts, directing your curiosity towards a more immediate matter that had ignited within you. With effortless grace, you posed the question that had lingered upon your tongue. 

"Do you partake in any hobbies?" The words flowed seamlessly, capturing Jing Yuan's attention as he momentarily ceased his scribbling, his gaze now fixed upon you. The subtle twitch of his lips and the tilt of his head betrayed an intrigue.

"I do indeed have hobbies," he responded, his voice tinged with a touch of amusement. "Occasionally, I indulge in playing chess."

His eyes shifted to the holographic chessboard that lay between the two of you, the pieces frozen in their strategic arrangements. The prospect of engaging in such a cerebral battle intrigued you, despite your limited knowledge of the game, restricted to the fundamental rules and the basic movements of each piece.

"Do you possess skill in playing chess?" Jing Yuan questions, his curiosity mirrored within the depths of his gaze. You shook your head, confessing your lack of experience.

"I am acquainted with only the rudimentary aspects, the basic moves of the individual pieces. However, I have yet to engage in an actual game," you admitted.

"Would you be interested in attempting a game?"

"Perhaps at a later time," you replied, accompanied by an apologetic smile. Though the notion of partaking in a game of chess intrigued you, the weight of responsibilities and matters that demanded Jing Yuan's attention prevailed for the present moment.

"Very well," Jing Yuan acquiesced, his understanding evident. "When the opportune moment presents itself, we can delve into the intricate depths of the game. Fear not, for I shall be there to guide you every step of the way."

"That would be lovely." You flash him a faint smile.

A blue glow materialized in front of Jing Yuan's desk, captivating your attention and drawing you both into its enigmatic presence. Swiftly discernible as a holographic projection, it unveiled the figure that emerged from its depths, none other than the revered Master Diviner, Fu Xuan.

"General Jing Yuan, I have—"

Her words faltered as her gaze fell upon your form, sitting alongside Jing Yuan. An ephemeral flicker of surprise graced her countenance, quickly replaced by a subtle undercurrent of tension as she realized your presence within the private and hallowed confines of the Seat of Divine Foresight. With a slight furrowing of her brows, Fu Xuan's curiosity ignited, silently contemplating the reasons behind your unanticipated appearance.

"Ah, Diviner Fu, is there something you wish to convey?" Jing Yuan queried, his pen abandoned as he focused his complete attention on the holographic projection before him.

Fu Xuan's countenance softened, a faint trace of apology lingering within her tone. "I do bear crucial information to impart, but it seems you are accompanied by another. I apologize for this abrupt intrusion."

Her gaze shifted towards you, acknowledging your presence with a respectful nod. "Greetings, Lady (Name). I was unaware of your visit to the General's office."

You met Fu Xuan's gaze, reciprocating her nod with a composed air. "Greetings, Diviner Fu. This visitation was unforeseen, an impromptu occurrence. I came here yesterday as well," you elucidated, cognizant of the necessity for transparency within this venerable place..

Fu Xuan's eyebrow ascended inquisitively, her gaze transitioning between Jing Yuan and yourself. A fleeting suspicion seemed to momentarily color her countenance, but she swiftly regained her composure, though a residual trace of tension remained etched upon her features.

"Yesterday?" she echoed. "You paid a visit yesterday as well?"

In response, you affirmed her inquiry with a nod, meeting her gaze with an air of serene honesty. "Indeed, I ventured here yesterday to deliver sustenance, and I have returned today as well."

Fu Xuan's scrutiny deepened, her suspicion simmering just beneath the surface. Yet, she deftly composed herself, comprehending the intricacies entwined within the situation. The weight of her unspoken thoughts hung in the air, bearing witness to the delicate interplay of concealed truths and cautious discretion that governed their domain.

Mindful of the precarious equilibrium, Fu Xuan discreetly chose not to delve further into the nature of your visits.

"Very well. I shall grant you both privacy," she accedes, a subtle nod accompanying her words. "I shall convey the message to you at a later time, General."

With that, her holographic projection dissipated, leaving behind an intangible aura of lingering tension.

Fu Xuan's hesitation in sharing the message was apparent, her guarded demeanor betraying her suspicions towards your presence in their sphere. Understandably so, as the possibility of the message being confidential information justified her caution. You, however, remained unfazed by her wariness, fully aware that your sudden appearance in Jing Yuan's life had left everyone in the dark about your true nature.

The lack of knowledge surrounding you only heightened the importance of proceeding with caution and the daunting task of earning the trust of Jing Yuan's subordinates and acquaintances. It was clear that a meticulous plan was necessary to establish a sense of faux innocence and disarm their skepticism. Your objective was to gradually chip away at their doubts, even if your true intentions were far from innocent.

Your attention now turned towards dismantling the walls that surrounded Jing Yuan's defenses, fully aware of the formidable challenge that lay ahead. Breaking through would require careful strategy and unwavering determination, as those defenses were a testament to the hurdles in your path. Yet, you remained undeterred, ready to overcome any obstacles that stood in your way.

To achieve your goal, you devised a plan that involved delving deeper into Jing Yuan's world. Your aim was to uncover shared interests and engage in conversations that would demonstrate your genuine curiosity and understanding of his pursuits. It was through finding common ground that trust and understanding could blossom.

Patience and gradual progress became your guiding principles. You knew that rushing or forcing a bond would only undermine your efforts. Instead, you would let time weave its tapestry, building upon each interaction and shared moment. Your approach would be attentive and observant, offering subtle yet meaningful support and encouragement.

Lunch was served once again, presenting a familiar array of mouthwatering dishes that mirrored the previous day's indulgences. With genuine delight, Jing Yuan praised each delicacy, savoring every bite as his satisfaction radiated from within. Mesmerized by his unfeigned enjoyment, a soft smile graced your lips, acknowledging the authenticity of his pleasure.

Together, you savored the flavors and shared the meal, engaging in light conversation that flowed effortlessly between you. The passage of time brought with it the moment to bid farewell and return to the estate. Recognizing this, Jing Yuan kindly offered to accompany you, Yanqing absent from his side on this occasion. Earlier, he had mentioned the young boy's unwavering focus on honing his skills, aspiring to surpass even Jing Yuan himself as an unparalleled swordsman.

Jing Yuan openly acknowledged Yanqing's boundless potential, expressing his belief that as the boy reached adulthood, his strength would surpass his own. He spoke with admiration about Yanqing's talents, despite his tender age. Additionally, Jing Yuan shared the story of how fate had brought the orphaned child into his care, becoming his loyal retainer.

Amidst the conversation, a smile played upon your lips, appreciating Jing Yuan's dedication to shaping Yanqing's character during his formative years. He spoke of the boy's occasional immaturity and impatience, emphasizing his role in guiding and molding Yanqing's character before habits and attitudes became deeply ingrained.

"Yanqing can be quite spirited at times, particularly when his desires are unfulfilled," Jing Yuan confessed.

"He is but a child, and such behavior is understandable.”

Indeed, they were still sheltered in the shadows of adulthood, shielded from the harsh realities that awaited them. However, as time revealed its mosaic, they would encounter truths that lay beyond their limited knowledge and experiences. Challenges would arise, testing the wisdom they had gained and pushing them to grow.

It was the duty of adults to guide the younger generation, sharing advice and wisdom to light their paths. Yet, it was ultimately the children's choice whether to embrace or disregard that guidance, forging their own distinct journeys through life.

The transition from childhood to adulthood required a delicate balance between nurturing and independence. The influence of mentors intermingled with the blossoming autonomy of the young, creating a dance of influence and self-discovery. It was in the choices made during this transformative stage that their destinies would take shape, molding them into the unique individuals they were meant to be.

Memories of your past swirled within your mind, intertwining with the present. Once, you had stood at the precipice of youth, driven by a fervent longing to become a legendary swordsman, akin to the revered Cloud Knights whose valor and noble deeds had ignited your spirit. Your aspirations were noble and pure, rooted in a desire to protect the people and to be counted among the valiant defenders of Xianzhou Luofu. With determination, you had immersed yourself in arduous training, guided by a master whose watchful eye sculpted your skills.

However, fate dealt an unexpected blow, casting a shadow of tragedy upon your path. The sudden loss of your esteemed master shattered your world, forever altering the trajectory of your life. The echoes of his demise resonated through the fibers of your being, leaving you adrift amidst circumstances you could never have foreseen.

In the wake of this profound loss, your life underwent a deep-seated metamorphosis, steering you onto an unforeseen course that diverged from the righteous ideals that once fueled your ambitions. It was a disorienting transformation, a departure from the path you had fervently believed in.

As was now customary, Jing Yuan bid you farewell with a tender gesture, his lips lightly grazing the back of your hand. "I'll eagerly await your return tomorrow," he said, his smile warm and genuine.

"I will do my best.”

 As you stepped into the starskiff, preparing to depart and make your way back to the estate, the weight of your past experiences remained firmly etched upon your heart.

The memories of your ambitious aspirations, the rigors of your training, and the tragic loss that had reshaped your destiny persisted, entwining with the present. They served as a reminder of the journeys you had undertaken, the trials you had faced, and the person you had become.

In the silence, you contemplated the convergence of past and present, knowing that the echoes of your personal history would continue to resonate within you. The chapters of your life intertwined, interwoven with the budding connections and dynamics of your present circumstances.

As you entered the estate, the two guards and the maid respectfully parted ways, their duty as your chaperones for the day now fulfilled. Similar to the previous day, they bid their goodbyes, their expressions polite but devoid of any personal connection. It seemed that their acknowledgement of your presence was merely perfunctory, their perception colored by your position within the esteemed Hongying clan.

The servants you encountered along the way, though aware of your arrival, chose to turn a blind eye to your presence. It was as if you were a ghost passing through their midst, your existence acknowledged only by the faintest shift in the atmosphere. The air itself seemed to hold more weight than their indifference towards you.

Yet, you found solace in this anonymity, a convenient cloak that allowed you to move about undisturbed. Their lack of acknowledgement proved advantageous, for you had no desire to seek their recognition or approval. In the grand tapestry of your mission and pursuit of freedom, their acknowledgement was inconsequential.

Your purpose remained steadfast, unyielding. You had come to this estate with a clear objective, and it did not involve garnering the regard of the servants who scurried about their duties. Their ignorance, intentional or not, worked in your favor, providing you with the freedom to navigate the corridors and chambers without unwarranted attention.

With each step you took, a sense of liberation blossomed within you. Unfettered by the expectations and pretenses that often accompanied one's social standing, you moved through the estate like a shadow, unseen yet keenly aware of the world around you.

In the end, their indifference became an asset, shielding you from prying eyes and unnecessary distractions. As you pursue your mission, you remain focused on the ultimate prize—fulfilling your purpose and reclaiming the freedom that had eluded you for far too long.

As you proceeded down the corridor, your measured steps harmonizing with the solemn ambiance, an all-too-familiar sound shattered the tranquility, jolting your senses into alertness. The repugnant resonance reverberated through the air, its impact leaving an unsettling imprint upon your being. It was a sound that had accompanied your presence within these walls since the moment you arrived—a sound that spoke of dominance and power, drenched in a perverse satisfaction.

Compelled by a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you turned the corner, a breath caught within your chest. And there, the scene unfolded before your eyes—a tableau that evoked both repulsion and sympathy. The matriarch, her bearing regal and authoritative, stood with an icy air of command, her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the maid kneeling before her. Clad in the humble vestments of her station, the young woman bowed low, her body bent in servitude.

A vivid splotch of crimson adorned her delicate complexion, a damning testament to the force with which the matriarch's hand had met her flesh. Disheveled tendrils of golden hair partially obscured her visage, a curtain veiling the pain and humiliation etched upon her features. She remained motionless, frozen in her subservient pose, her stillness embodying a profound sense of anguish.

This poignant scene laid bare the power dynamics that governed this domain, where acts of violence and dominance were enacted without remorse. The matriarch's stern countenance mirrored her unyielding grip on authority, while the maid, reduced to a mere vessel of the matriarch's displeasure, bore the visible and invisible scars of her actions.

"You, an incompetent fool!" Lady Mingzhu's voice lashed out with venomous disdain, her words dripping with scorn. The weight of her anger echoed in the corridor, reverberating through the air like a sinister melody. Her hand clenched around a handful of her own hair, eliciting a pained whimper from the maid, who knelt before her, caught in the cruel grip of her superior.

"I apologize—" The maid's attempt at an apology was swiftly interrupted as Lady Mingzhu violently shoved her head, causing her voice to falter and fade away. The matriarch's words seared through the air, like daggers aimed at the young woman's wounded spirit.

"The insufficiency of your apology is a mere drop in the ocean of shame you have brought upon me! Fortunately, you did not besmirch the guests' attire with spilled tea, staining their expensive robes! Had you done so, the lash would have been your deserved punishment!"

The word "lash" struck you like lightning, electrifying your senses. The memories of the matriarch's own punishments upon you surged forth, flooding your mind with a torrent of unwelcome recollections. It was a word stained with pain and cruelty, a word that awakened a visceral response within you, causing your body to tremble involuntarily.

As you refocused your gaze upon the maid, a glint of bloodlust shimmered in her piercing green eyes, even through the strands of hair that obscured her face. Her gaze, sharp as a dagger, did not escape your notice. It emanated an icy chill, a deadly aura that caused you to inhale sharply, a fleeting intake of breath to steel yourself against the palpable danger that emanated from her very being.

This girl…

Lady Mingzhu released an audible sigh of exasperation, her mounting frustration filling the air around her. The weight of her annoyance was palpable, as though it threatened to consume the very atmosphere. With an air of superiority, she dismissed the kneeling maid, her words laced with a mixture of condescension and disdain.

"I have no more time to waste on someone as feeble-minded as you. Consider yourself fortunate that I am still willing to show leniency. However, should you dare to commit another mistake in my presence, rest assured that you will face dire consequences."

Adjusting her posture, Lady Mingzhu carried herself with a regal elegance, her gaze fixated on you with a glimmer of curiosity and impatience. The remnants of her anger were etched upon her face, a testament to the lingering frustration that had yet to dissipate.

"You have finally arrived," she addressed you sharply, her tone laden with urgency. "I have pressing matters to attend to. Inform me once I have concluded my affairs with the guests."

As she drew nearer, her steps purposeful and determined, she passed by the kneeling maid without sparing her even a fleeting glance. It was a scene that evoked a sense of familiarity, reminiscent of your own past when you had knelt in similar positions of insignificance before Lady Mingzhu. Yet, something about the maid caught your attention, something that set her apart from the rest.

"Understood, Lady Mingzhu," you responded in a measured tone, conveying your respect through a respectful bow.

The rhythmic cadence of Lady Mingzhu's heels echoed through the hushed corridors as she gracefully withdrew from the scene. With her departure, your focus shifted to the maid, who diligently sought to regain her composure. She straightened her uniform with meticulous care, methodically brushing away the remnants of dust, a determined effort to restore her appearance to its former state of pristine order.

As you drew nearer, the sound of your own footsteps caught her attention, prompting her to turn her gaze in your direction. The once chilling and lethal glint in her eyes had transformed, now veiled beneath an exterior of innocence and humility. In that fleeting moment, her eyes met yours, acknowledging your presence in a manner unmatched by any other since your arrival within the clan's boundaries.

Responding to your command, she promptly lowered herself into a bow, a gesture of respect that had not been extended to you before. It was a significant gesture, imbued with a glimmer of newfound recognition.

"You," you spoke with authority, your voice commanding her attention. "What is your name?"

"I am Yuyan, my lady," came her reply, her voice carrying a delicate blend of softness. It possessed a subtle sweetness, tinged with a hint of formality, reflecting a casual nonchalance tempered by a deep-rooted sense of propriety.

Intrigued by the enigmatic Yuyan, you found yourself captivated by her presence, your gaze intently studying every facet of her being. From the delicate contours of her face to the poised placement of her feet, no detail escaped your discerning eye. There was an undeniable aura of dignity that enveloped her, manifesting in the graceful manner in which she carried herself, effortlessly shifting her weight with an innate poise.

As her emerald irises locked with your own, you sensed a certain remoteness in her gaze, an unspoken depth that hinted at hidden thoughts or perhaps a closely guarded secret. Lost in the intensity of your observation, you could not ascertain how long you had been fixed upon her. It was as if she had an uncanny awareness of your intense scrutiny, yet she remained unruffled, her composure unyielding in the face of your inquisitive gaze. A subtle flicker of amusement ignited within you, recognizing a familiar trait in her steadfast demeanor.

"Come with me, Yuyan."

With a simple command, Yuyan obediently followed you without questioning, a display of unquestioning loyalty that you found somewhat gratifying, despite the underlying knowledge of your true status as a mere pawn in the Hongying clan. As you led her towards your quarters, she trailed behind without hesitation, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

Upon reaching your room, you opened the door, positioning yourself to face her as you gestured for her to enter. There was a noticeable hesitation in her movements, but eventually, she complied, crossing the threshold into your small and intimate space. Yuyan closed the door behind her, and you couldn't help but notice the intensity of her gaze fixed upon you as you made your way to the study table.

Your fingers glided gently over the smooth cover of an unfinished book, a bookmark peering out from between its pages. Sensing her unwavering attention upon you, you finally spoke, without casting a glance in her direction. Your focus was solely on the book before you, flipping it open to the page where the bookmark rested.

"How long have you been working in this estate?" The question slipped from your lips, delivered in a measured tone that invited conversation, even as your eyes remained fixed on the book.

"A week ago…"

As Yuyan stood before you, her eyes filled with respect and reverence, you began to understand the reason behind her deferential treatment. 

This girl is new.

It became clear that she must have been aware of your fake identity as the daughter of the esteemed clan heads. In the midst of the widespread engagement that enveloped Luofu, it was only natural for her to treat you differently than those who had long served the Hongying clan.

Yet, despite this realization, a sense of caution lingered within you. Before considering any potential benefits that Yuyan's presence might offer, you need to confirm a crucial detail. The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as you carefully chose your words, striving for clarity and precision.

"Tell me, Yuyan," you began, your voice steady and composed. "What led you to seek employment within the Hongying estate? And what do you hope to achieve during your time here?" Your gaze finally lifted from the book, meeting hers directly, as you awaited her response.

You discerned a momentary flicker in her gaze, reminiscent of the one you had noticed earlier, but she promptly averted her eyes and blocked your path, preventing further scrutiny. The ensuing silence hung heavy until her soft voice broke through.

"I am solely here to seek employment to cover my mother's medical expenses," she confessed, her voice firm. She kept her gaze lowered, fidgeting with her fingers. The sincerity in her words and tone left no trace of deceit.

With a sigh, you made your way to the cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit. A small bruise on her lips caught your attention, prompting you to address it. Taking a seat on your bed, the only available seating in your modest room, you gestured for her to join you.

"Come here. Let us promptly treat the bruise on your lips to ensure proper healing," you instructed, opening the kit and gathering the necessary materials.

"I can attend to it myself, my lady," she countered, but you disapproved with a gentle shake of your head.

"I insist on personally attending to it to ensure thorough cleaning. Please, remain still," you stated firmly.

Yuyan's countenance shifted, her brow furrowing with a mixture of doubt and suspicion, as she locked her gaze onto you with intensity. There was an unmistakable resolve in her voice, tempered with a firmness that bordered on harshness, as she fearlessly confronted you.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her words infused with a guarded skepticism. "Acts of kindness from individuals of your esteemed stature often conceal hidden motives."

You couldn't help but be intrigued by her perceptiveness and her swift construction of walls between the two of you. Her caution was conspicuous, a shield against any potential manipulation. A subtle smile played upon your lips, appreciating the astuteness she displayed. Yet, you understood that further evidence was required to solidify your initial assumptions.

Maintaining your composed demeanor, you rested your hands upon your thighs, meeting her accusatory gaze with an unwavering look of your own.

"Hold this." You extended your hand, offering Yuyan the pair of scissors you had retrieved from the first aid kit. Her frown deepened, confusion evident in her gaze as she regarded the object before her.

"Why?" she inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You need it.".

"What do I need it for?" she pressed, seeking further clarification.

The corners of your lips rise, clearly amused at the wariness of Yuyan. "You need it to cut the bandage for your bruise."

Yuyan's gaze remained fixed upon you, her eyes tracing your every movement as you stood and made your way back to the study table. The intensity of her scrutiny was palpable, as if she were dissecting your every action, watching you with the attentiveness of a hawk.

"Yuyan, I must commend your keen observation," you remarked, your attention still focused on the task at hand. "Your perceptiveness exceeds that of a mere maid, does it not?"

As you opened the drawer and retrieved the object, its true nature remained concealed from her. The room filled with a sense of intrigue as you posed a question that probed into her past.

"Before you became employed here in the estate, what was your previous occupation?" you ask, a hint of playful curiosity seeping into your voice. Your fingertips brushed against the cool surface of the object, catching the glint of sunlight filtering through the windows.

"A waitress..." Yuyan's response was hesitant, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Is that so?" you replied, a mischievous undertone woven into your words, leaving the true purpose of your inquiry veiled for now.

In a lightning-quick motion, you unleashed the dagger with calculated precision, hurtling it towards Yuyan's face. However, to your astonishment, she reacted with unparalleled speed, parrying the oncoming blade effortlessly using the scissors you had handed her moments ago. The clash reverberated through the room as the dagger found its mark on the corner side, its impact resonating with a metallic clang.

A fierce glare now emanated from Yuyan's eyes, her expression transformed into one of grim determination and danger. The realization hit you like a jolt of electricity, confirming the instincts that had drawn you towards her from the moment you laid eyes upon her. She was not just a mere maid; she possessed skills honed in the crucible of the battlefield. Her bloodlust was not a facade, but rather a testament to her years of arduous training.

It was clear now—she had the ability to kill.

A knowing smile spread across your face, a mix of satisfaction and intrigue. The confirmation of her abilities only fueled your curiosity further, leaving you eager to delve deeper into the enigmatic depths of Yuyan's past and the secrets she held within her.

"I do believe such swift and precise moves are hardly characteristic of a waitress," you remark, your tone infused with a knowing air. 

The weight of your words lingers in the room, highlighting the incongruity between Yuyan's purported occupation and her exceptional defensive skills. Her lips tighten, a manifestation of the inner conflict she grapples with, as the weight of the recent events settles upon her. Clinging tightly to the scissors in her grip, she casts a deadly gaze your way before swiftly averting her eyes, focusing instead on the ground beneath her feet.

A pregnant pause envelops the room, each passing second adding to the gravity of the revelations that have unfolded. However, the silence is abruptly shattered by a sudden motion. With uncanny speed and precision, Yuyan launches the scissors towards you. Reacting instinctively, you snatch the book from the study table, raising it as a shield to protect your face. The resounding impact reverberates through the room, the clash of metal against the book's cover echoing sharply.

As you slowly lower the book, your gaze meets Yuyan's, her posture now relaxed despite the unveiling of her hidden abilities. Her words hang in the air, spoken with a blend of resignation and a touch of defiance.

"Now that you are aware, there is little point in concealing it any longer," she declares, baring the truth and removing the shroud of secrecy that once divided you. Her unwavering gaze meets yours. "And if you will pardon me, I too have come to realize that such quick reflexes are not commonly found in a sheltered noble lady."

A ghostly smile adorned your lips, a fleeting expression that danced with amusement and intrigue. Yuyan's statement and the implications it carried captured your attention, evoking a sense of appreciation for her skills and astuteness. The significance of her battlefield-honed abilities became evident, their potential value resonating within your mind. Such attributes should never be underestimated, for they held the power to shape destinies and sway the tides of fate.

"Hmm... how quaint," you whispered softly, savoring the irony and the countless possibilities that lay before you.

Yuyan visibly tensed as you closed the distance between you, her form stiffening like a statue frozen in time. The atmosphere crackled with palpable tension, her unyielding gaze meeting yours with an unwavering resolve. She held her ground, a testament to the self-guarded vigilance she had cultivated over the years.

Coming to a stop before her, you observed as Yuyan took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes fixed upon you with unwavering determination. The small smile still graced your countenance, an acknowledgment of the connection that had formed—an unspoken understanding and recognition of the untapped potential that bound the two of you together.

"I understand your reasons for seeking employment here," you began, your voice steady yet cautious. "However, I find it challenging to place my trust in your past occupation and the implications it carries."

Yuyan's jaw tightened, a visible effort to maintain her composure despite the weight of your words. The gravity of the situation settled upon her, and you could sense the apprehension radiating from her as she struggled to meet your gaze.

"Do you still wish to continue working here?"

"Yes, because this is the only way..."

"Then, you must comprehend what I seek. I cannot find reassurance in an employee who traverses these premises with an undisclosed identity, particularly after what I have witnessed earlier. I cannot guarantee the safety of the Hongying clan with individuals of unknown backgrounds."

Your words hung in the air, their impact sinking into Yuyan's consciousness, causing her to break eye contact and lower her gaze. Apprehension permeated the atmosphere, a tangible presence that enveloped the space between you. While you typically preferred not to pry into the personal affairs of others, the safety and well-being of the Hongying clan took precedence, most importantly, you. 

You sought Yuyan's unwavering loyalty and trust, recognizing the immense potential that her hidden abilities could offer. It would be a disservice to let such potential go to waste over time.

Amidst the charged atmosphere, you remained composed, your gaze unswerving upon Yuyan. Your words had struck a chord within her, urging her to confront the truth and reveal her hidden identity. The delicate balance between securing her loyalty and ensuring your safety demanded careful navigation—a delicate dance that would shape the path ahead for both of you.

"What do you gain if I disclose my past? Will you dismiss me?" Yuyan challenged, her voice tinged with strain.

Your response was resolute, delivered with an air of honesty and authority. It caught her off guard, evident in the widening of her eyes and the slight parting of her lips. The weight of your offer began to settle upon her, casting a new light upon the path that lay before her.

"No, I require your presence instead," you declared, meeting her gaze firmly while you lift her chin up with your finger. Her disbelief mingled with surprise at your words and actions. "I need you to work under me. Moreover, I am prepared to provide financial support for your ailing mother as long as you pledge me your unwavering loyalty."

Your words carried the weight of truth, delivered with the refined demeanor of a true master. The proposition intertwines with support and opportunity. Yuyan's question lingered hesitantly on her lips, her gaze briefly flickering towards you. 

“Why me?”

"You already know the answer to that question. It is evident," you replied, your gaze fixed upon her, awaiting her response to your proposition. 

In your intricate scheme, the first step was to find a trusted ally who could execute your orders in your absence, a messenger who would faithfully report back on the happenings within the clan. Yet, more than that, you sought a partner with reflexes and capabilities surpassing your own—a companion who could flawlessly carry out your intentions.

The air buzzed with suspense as you awaited Yuyan's decision, fully aware that her choice would shape the path that both of you would traverse.

Yuyan's voice carried a hint of curiosity as she sought clarification. "That's all you require?"

"Indeed. I ask for nothing more than your unwavering loyalty. That is my command."

"And how can I be certain that you will honor your end of the bargain?"

A smirk danced upon your lips, a testament to your amusement and admiration for her skepticism. "I am a person of steadfast principles. My word is my bond. Should I ever fail to fulfill my promise, you have my permission to take my life."

Her jaw dropped, eyes widening in astonishment. "What? Are you truly so desperate for my loyalty that you would willingly exchange your life for it?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, a confident yet composed response. "To clarify, my intention was not solely to earn your loyalty. I acted based on my principles, for I am an individual who values the weight of words more than anyone. Words possess immense power, capable of leaving lasting scars upon a person's being. Even unfounded hearsay, devoid of evidence, can be blindly believed by fools.”

Yuyan scoffed, a lingering trace of skepticism still present. "Very well then. I shall accept your command and your word, with the understanding that if you stray from your principles, I will not hesitate to end you. I hope you truly uphold the beliefs you so strongly claim, lady."

A sense of pride swelled within you as the conversation reached its conclusion. "You have my word," you declared, your smirk growing. The exchange marked the beginning of a new alliance, forged on trust and the unyielding principles that defined your character.

In a surprising display of loyalty, Yuyan knelt before you like a knight and took your hand in a solemn gesture. Her voice resonated with determination as she spoke her oath, her words carrying a weight of commitment and unwavering allegiance.

“I, Yuyan, do hereby pledge my unwavering loyalty to Lady (Name) of the Hongying clan. I shall be at your command, ready to face any challenge or adversity that may arise. I pledge to protect and support you, standing steadfast by your side. Bound by the principles of chivalry, my allegiance to you shall remain unwavering and true.”

As her pledge came to a close, Yuyan pressed a gentle kiss upon the back of your hand, sealing the pact between you. The sincerity and earnestness in her words touched a chord within you, filling you with a sense of pride and fulfillment. Finally, you had found someone willing to work under your command, someone who would be a loyal companion in your endeavors.

However, a veil of cautiousness still lingered within you. While swayed by her pledge, you knew that trust must be earned over time. This conversation between the two of you had unveiled only a glimpse of what lay within her mind. Possibilities, both promising and uncertain, filled the air, urging you to tread carefully and observe the progress with Yuyan. Time would reveal the true extent of her loyalty and the nature of your partnership.

"From now on, I am your master."

As the weeks rolled by, your visits to Jing Yuan's sprawling office took on a sense of familiarity. The once-familiar face of the former maid had now given way to Yuyan, a change you had specifically requested from the matriarch. Surprisingly, Lady Mingzhu had acquiesced to your request, albeit with a lingering trace of hesitation in the air.

The reasons behind Lady Mingzhu's acceptance remained elusive, shrouded in the enigmatic depths of her intentions. Yet, you couldn't help but speculate that your encounters with Jing Yuan were progressing as she desired. The intricacies of the matriarch's motivations, though intriguing, held little sway over your determined pursuits. So long as your carefully crafted plan continued to fall into place, you remained undeterred.

Having Yuyan by your side, rather than the chosen maid handpicked by Lady Mingzhu, added an undeniable sense of reassurance to your endeavors. Her presence brought with it a unique blend of competence and loyalty, qualities that bolstered your confidence.

With her graceful poise and keen intellect, Yuyan proved to be more than just a mere replacement for the former maid. She possessed an uncanny ability to anticipate your needs and adapt swiftly to any situation, making her an indispensable asset in your careful plans.

"I am delighted to partake in a tea party with Lady (Name). It is truly an honor," one of the guests expressed with evident joy. In response, you graciously returned a smile before delicately sipping your tea.

As you sat in the elegant pavilion, surrounded by the esteemed ladies of powerful clans, the atmosphere brimmed with a sense of refined grace and intrigue. The matriarch had extended her gracious invitation, gathering these influential women for a tea party—a momentous occasion within the intricate tapestry of social and political alliances.

With practiced ease, you exchanged pleasantries and engaged in light conversation, masking the true purpose behind your presence. It was a calculated move born out of necessity, a means to redirect your frequent visits away from Jing Yuan's office. The realization had dawned upon you that your repeated ventures into the seat of divine foresight were neither appropriate nor conducive to the sacred purpose it served.

The hallowed halls of the office were not to be treated lightly, akin to a casual visit to a friend's abode. Within its sacred walls lay vital information and the stage for crucial meetings with dignitaries and representatives from various commissions. Your unannounced presence disrupted the flow of communication, hindering the efficient relay of messages intended for Jing Yuan.

The weight of guilt settled upon your conscience as you recognized the potential consequences of your unwelcome intrusion. What if a critical message arrived but was delayed or lost due to a messenger spotting you within those revered confines? The urgency of the matter might be undermined, impeding prompt action and potentially altering the course of events.

To relieve this burden, you crafted yet another convincing falsehood, deftly presenting it to the matriarch. Your words were chosen with utmost care, designed to sway Lady Mingzhu's discerning mind.

Lady Mingzhu's face contorted into a deep frown, her displeasure palpable in the air. She responded with a sharp and angry voice, her words carrying the weight of her frustration. "Kindly enlighten me as to the rationale behind your actions. I must caution you that if your explanation is deemed insufficiently reasonable, I will not extend leniency due to the mounting anger within me, (Name)."

Maintaining your composure, your gaze remained locked with hers as you calmly explained your decision. 

"It is a matter of gathering evidence to ascertain the true significance of our encounters to Jing Yuan," you articulated, your voice steady and measured. "If our interactions have indeed been meaningful to him, then he will feel compelled to come and visit me in return. By ceasing my visits, we can gauge the extent to which we have successfully achieved our plan in forging a connection between us. Isn't it a way to determine if we have truly made progress and fostered warmth within his heart?"

With your convincing explanation, Lady Mingzhu acquiesced to your request, and you refrained from visiting Jing Yuan's office for nearly a week. As each day passed without his presence at the estate, a sense of anticipation grew within you, fueling the need to reassess your strategy.

In a candid conversation with Lady Mingzhu, you shared your concerns, emphasizing the necessity of developing alternative plans in case Jing Yuan did not make his way to the estate as expected. The Seat of Divine Foresight beckoned in your mind, its potential as a source of valuable information and insights becoming increasingly apparent. Recognizing the weight of this decision, the matriarch agreed to your proposal, understanding the importance of adapting your approach to achieve your objectives.

In the interim, Lady Mingzhu took the initiative to organize a tea party, a grand gathering carefully curated to introduce you to other noble ladies of esteemed standing. As the perceived daughter of the revered Hongying clan, it fell upon you to establish yourself within high society and showcase your influence. The tea party served as a platform for you to deftly navigate social connections, leaving an indelible impression on those in attendance and solidifying your position in the upper echelons of society.

"It is indeed a surprise to receive a letter from Lady (Name) of the esteemed Hongying clan," one of the guests concurred. "She has always been known to immerse herself in her studies, seldom venturing into social gatherings. Lady Mingzhu and Lord Liqiang have often mentioned her dedication to the library. She is truly a remarkable woman."

A subtle smile played upon your lips, accompanied by a slow shake of your head. "I never anticipated that my parents would share my indulgences with others."

The truth remained hidden behind the facade carefully crafted by the clan heads. The invitation to host a tea party and your supposed engagement with Jing Yuan were all part of their intricate schemes. As a pawn, it is your obligation to navigate the unpredictable tides created by their ploys.

"How is the engagement with Jing Yuan, Lady (Name)? If it is not too presumptuous of me to inquire," one of the guests asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Everything has been proceeding smoothly since the announcement of our engagement. No major developments have arisen thus far."

"Oh, how I envy you, Lady (Name)! To be engaged to the esteemed and powerful general!" The girl with brown locks giggled, sharing a secret desire. "I apologize if my words offend you, but I have often fantasized about him as a partner and husband."

You chuckled at her candidness, appreciating her lightheartedness. "I appreciate your honesty. You are not alone in your admiration for General Jing Yuan. Many ladies from various houses harbor similar thoughts."

A chorus of agreements echoed around the table, affirming the appeal and desirability of the renowned general.

"Is he also the apple of your eye before your engagement?" One of them asked that you stop. 

A gentle smile graced your lips as you responded to their inquiries with poise and discretion. 

"No. Before our engagement, I admired General Jing Yuan for his prowess and intelligence in protecting Xianzhou Luofu. However, I did not entertain the thought of him as a potential partner. My focus has always been on my studies and fulfilling my responsibilities."

The truth of your words remained concealed behind a veil of secrecy. The clandestine nature of your true intentions compelled you to maintain a careful distance, even as you played the part of an engaged woman. The notion of harboring romantic feelings for anyone seemed inconsequential in the face of your duties as a pawn of the Hongying clan. You had been groomed to exceed their expectations, executing their commands flawlessly, and there was little room for personal desires or attachments.

A hint of curiosity flickered in the eyes of one of the guests as she probed further. "So, is there someone else who has captured your heart?"

Your eyebrow arched slightly at the unexpected question, yet you maintained your composure and responded with grace. "I am fully dedicated to my studies, as my mother has mentioned. My attention is solely focused on my pursuit of knowledge and the responsibilities entrusted to me."

"Oh! Lady (Name), I presume you are studying to become the next heiress?" 

Although it was not the truth, you chose to acquiesce, allowing them to hold onto their beliefs and keeping the complexities of the powerful clan's schemes concealed.

"I am eagerly looking forward to your upcoming union with General Jing Yuan!" 

"Suyin, have you already found a suitable match for marriage?" the girl asked, her tone tinged with sarcasm as she addressed Suyin directly.

Suyin paused, her eyes widening and her jaw slightly agape, caught off guard by the unexpected question. Your gaze shifted to the woman who posed the question, a smug smile adorning her face, seemingly pleased by Suyin's discomposure.

"I have not..." Suyin began to respond, her voice trailing off.

"Well, I had already surmised as much, considering your apparent disinterest in marriage. Or perhaps you have faced rejection?" the woman remarked, her smirk betraying a hint of satisfaction at seeing Suyin taken aback.

With a sense of weariness, you observed the cruel nature of the noble attendees and the display of their superiority. The room buzzed with whispers and snickers, each sound a reminder of the power dynamics that governed their interactions. Their smug expressions and mocking glances aimed at Suyin exposed the ugly underbelly of their privileged world. It was a stark reminder of the inherent cruelty and callousness that permeated their social circles.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a weary exhale born from years of witnessing such disdainful behavior. This was the norm in their world—a realm where individuals sought to elevate themselves by belittling and demeaning others. The nobility reveled in their dominance, using their words as weapons to assert their superiority and maintain their positions of power.

As the conversation shifted to the failed union between Lady Suyin and Lord Yichen, your eyebrow arched inquisitively. It seemed that the noble circles were abuzz with the news of a more suitable marriage candidate being found for Lord Yichen. Time had passed since your last interaction with him, and it was not surprising that he had swiftly found a new prospect given the vast network of connections and resources at their disposal.

While you had little personal interest in the affairs of others, you couldn't help but acknowledge the efficiency and expediency with which the noble elite maneuvered their relationships. Marriages were strategic moves meticulously orchestrated to consolidate power, solidify alliances, and preserve wealth and influence—a calculated dance conducted for the sake of societal gain.

"It is truly regrettable that Lady Suyin and Lord Yichen's union did not come to fruition," someone remarked with a hint of disappointment.

Suyin managed a faint smile, her lips trembling as she responded, "I-I do not mind if our union was rejected. I am capable of handling things on my own."

Another guest interjected, "Is it true that your clan is facing financial challenges, as rumors suggest? Could it be the reason why your parents are earnestly seeking a marriage alliance with a wealthy and influential family?"

Suyin hesitated, her voice faltering as she tried to form a response. However, before she could reply, a guest gasped in astonishment, placing a finger on her lips. "So, it appears that these are not mere hearsays, but indeed a factual situation?"

Amidst the murmurs and gossip that circulated among the attendees, the focus shifted to the condition of Suyin's family and the recent rejection of her union with Lord Yichen. In high society, such instances were not entirely uncommon, as the dynamics of alliances and marriages were subject to the ever-changing tides of power and influence. Yet, the news of a renounced union after the exchange of vows and commitments held a certain allure for the noble class, who relished in the drama and scandal that accompanied such revelations.

The implications for Suyin's family, however, were far more severe. The rejection of their union not only bore the weight of personal disappointment, but also threatened to tarnish their reputation within high society. Rumors of impending bankruptcy only added to the uncertainty surrounding their clan, casting a shadow of doubt and speculation upon their standing and financial stability.

Yet, as an astute observer, you were cautious not to hastily embrace such rumors and hearsays. In the world of aristocrats, where information was often distorted and manipulated for personal gain, it was wise to exercise discernment and rely on official news or statements from the clan themselves. Until concrete evidence emerged, you reserved judgment and refused to let mere gossip shape your perception of Suyin's family.

In this world of illusions and facades, where appearances and reputation were meticulously crafted and fiercely guarded, it was essential to navigate through the murky waters of speculation with a level head and a discerning eye. You understood the power of information and the consequences of blindly believing rumors, choosing instead to rely on verifiable facts and the actions of the concerned parties themselves.

While the situation surrounding Suyin's family remained shrouded in uncertainty, you remained composed and vigilant, carefully evaluating the whispers and insinuations that floated through the air. The truth would eventually reveal itself, and until then, you would remain a steadfast observer, guided by reason and evidence rather than the whims of gossip and hearsay.

"If I were in Lady Suyin's situation, I cannot fathom how I would bear such a burden of shame," one guest lamented.

Your gaze shifted towards Suyin, observing her bowed head and tightly pressed lips. A subtle quiver ran through her shoulders as the guests continued discussing her predicament.

"Fortunately, the Hongying clan displayed generosity by extending an invitation for this tea party.”

"They truly are a remarkable family," another chimed in.

"It is possible that the renouncement of their potential union is due to the financial troubles plaguing their clan.”

As the voices of disapproval grew louder and the discomfort on Suyin's face became increasingly apparent, you found yourself increasingly irritated by the relentless gossip and speculation. Taking a sip of your tea, you sought solace in the soothing warmth of the liquid, attempting to dispel the frustration that threatened to seep into your system. The noise, the chatter, and the opinions of those around you grated on your nerves.

While you understood the validity of their opinions and the societal norms that dictated their reactions, what truly aggravated you was the propensity to believe in rumors without concrete evidence. It seemed that sympathy, or even a semblance of empathy, was an elusive emotion for the nobles who surrounded you. Instead, they reveled in the power plays and whispered scandals, relishing in the misfortunes of others without pausing to consider the impact of their words or the underlying humanity of those affected.

The absence of evidence and the lack of firsthand knowledge seemed inconsequential to them, as they forged ahead with their judgments and condemnations. It was a reminder of the shallow nature of high society, where appearances and status took precedence over genuine understanding and compassion. Empathy, it seemed, was a scarce commodity in these circles, overshadowed by the hunger for power and influence.

Yet, you resisted the urge to be swayed by their callousness and refused to join in the chorus of gossip. Instead, you chose to maintain a sense of detachment, allowing your own moral compass to guide your thoughts and actions. Sympathy and compassion were not weaknesses to be shunned, but rather strengths to be embraced and nurtured.

"Enough," you declare with an authoritative and final tone that brings all conversations to a halt. The room falls silent as all eyes turn towards you, captivated by your commanding presence. Placing your cup of tea down, you straighten your posture and fix your gaze upon the gathering, every inch the embodiment of confidence and authority. 

"Hearsay of such magnitude does not deserve attention without substantial evidence. Only official statements from both parties involved can provide a conclusive account, and as of now, no such announcements have been made regarding this matter. Until then, it is not our place to engage in baseless discussions and spread unfounded rumors. If the rumors were indeed true, it would indeed be regrettable that their engagement was revoked. However, what is even more shameful is engaging in discussions based on unverifiable information."

The room remains hushed, the weight of your words sinking in. The attendees exchange glances, their expressions shifting from smug satisfaction to a touch of apprehension. They have come face to face with a side of you that they had not anticipated, a sharp reminder of the depths of your character that lie beneath the poised facade.

Suyin's eyes widen slightly, and you can see a flicker of hope dancing within them. It is as if your words have breathed life into her, dispelling the cloud of doubt that had enveloped her earlier. She watches you intently, a mixture of anticipation and curiosity reflecting in her gaze.

"And generous, you say?" you remark, a sly smirk gracing your lips. "Perhaps you overestimate my generosity. I am not inclined to show kindness to those who seek to provoke me. So, I would advise you to reconsider the initial impression you had of me. You do not truly know who I am. It is mere hearsay."

As you express your words, you confidently lift your cup once again, savoring your tea. With a newfound sense of self-assuredness, you care less about their perceptions of you, understanding that dominance is valued in this world rather than weakness. By emanating confidence, you ensure that they cannot wield control over you.

Curiosity piques within you as you raise your gaze from the cup, only to find their eyes fixed on a point behind you. Their expressions shift to surprise and disbelief, leaving you perplexed as their attention is clearly diverted elsewhere. Wondering what has captured their attention so intensely, you turn around to discover what has captured their focus.

As your gaze shifts towards the source of their surprise, your eyes widen with recognition and disbelief. Standing there, with an air of confidence and a trace of amusement on his face, is none other than Jing Yuan.

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[osunism]

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

Rating: Explicit [for explicit sexual content and graphic depictions of violence]. 🔞 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi.

🪧 Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

𓃰 AO3 || OC Masterpost || Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Eight: Kyoto Interlude

November 25, 2018, Gojo Estate, Kyoto

     Sundari has dated a lot of people during her time in the modern era. Generally, she tends to give her potential partners a generous six to ten months of her time before she decides to pull the ripcord and make a swift exit out of their lives before things get serious. All things considered; she would say that this method served her in the end because what would she have done if her unsealing had happened with some non-sorcerer?

     Well, she wouldn’t be sitting in the ancestral Gojo estate, getting stared at like something that was stuck to the bottom of one’s shoe by Satoru’s mother.

     As it so happens, she would rather be freaking out a non-sorcerer right about now.

     When Satoru first posed his question, Sundari had thought he spoke in jest, as any reasonable and sane person would, because who asks to meet one’s parents after four months of…whatever they’ve been doing? Of course, when he tilted his head and quirked a brow, waiting for her answer, Sundari came to realize that he was quite serious. Well, as serious as Satoru can be.

     In the end, it didn’t matter because his reason for returning to Kyoto was not out of some sentimental gesture to present Sundari to his family; as the undisputed and rightful head of the Gojo clan, he has leave to do as he pleases, and he decides what is best for the clan. Sundari had answered hesitatingly; Satoru rarely mentioned his parents, and she assumed they were estranged at a young age. She understands all too well the isolation of emotionally absent parents.

     What Satoru needed from the estate were a few weapons, as well as access to the family archives, which are meticulously kept in some secret, closely guarded warehouse on the estate grounds. Satoru does not need permission to access any of these things, but bringing Sundari along set off multiple alarm bells with the staff as well as his parents, who stared in shock as he and Sundari marched through the estate’s massive gate like a couple of teenagers who’d been out carousing.

     You see, Satoru’s mother, Airi Gojo, was home by the time Satoru and Sundari stumbled, breathy with laughter, into the estate’s receiving room. Every second Sunday of the month, without fail, she has a meeting with her woman’s club: an elite organization of female sorcerers, most from the Big Three families [saving Zenin, who turn out less female sorcerers than any other clan]. Admission into this club is stringent, complete with all the red tape expected of a club whose members boast the very pick of the litter of sorcerer bloodlines. Airi Gojo, who before giving birth to her son, was just another member of a clan whose political might coasts on the strength of lineage.

     Satoru’s birth changed more than the outside world; it completely changed his inner world too.

     Airi was meeting with her women’s club when Satoru pulled Sundari into the kitchen, grasping her hips to kiss her soundly. It was when Satoru’s iron-hewn thigh pressed upward between Sundari’s thighs that she let out an obscene moan into his mouth, startling no less than four members of the women’s club who had been passing by…including Satoru’s mother.

     Sundari’s face was aflame as Satoru grinned smugly, not taking his thigh from between her legs before the women shuffled out of sight, a chorus of scandalized whispers swelling around them. Airi Gojo was mortified and prudently called an early adjourning to the women’s club meeting. None of the members questioned this sudden change. Word travels fast, and by the time they returned to the meeting space, texts had been sent and every eye was on Airi, gauging her every reaction and inflection, seeking weakness.

     The men of the jujutsu world love to fancy themselves savvy in the ways of the shark-infested waters of politicking, but Airi Gojo can confidently say that any one of these women--sisters, aunts, and wives—could be running a rogue nation in little time at all. The requisite greeting and bowing for seeing guests out of the home is followed to the letter, and Airi makes sure her voice is the very soul of conservative hospitality.

     Once the ladies had taken their leave, Airi had called for Satoru and his “little friend” shortly after, but long enough that she could sense no eavesdropping, jujutsu or otherwise.

     Thus, Sundari’s awkward predicament, sitting across from the woman who seemed to seethe with a fury kept under a tight lid. Very tight, Sundari can see, but that motherfucker is rattling. The slightest shift may set her off, so Sundari chooses the wisdom of silence; a rare occurrence for her, but she knows a potential brushfire when she sees one.

     “So,” Airi finally speaks, and Sundari thinks this woman might be more severe than her own mother. “How did you and Satoru meet?”

     Sundari thinks about her first meeting with Satoru.

      “You close, baby?” She asked, and laughed when Gojo grunted against the onslaught of what he came to understand were deliberate contractions and release of her walls while she rode him. Her muscle control made him want to weep.       He almost did weep. He definitely drooled a little.       “Sundari…” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, a desperate whine of her name. “I’m so goddamn close. I wanna fill this fuckin– ngh –fill this pussy up so bad.”

     “We met at a concert,” Sundari says brightly. Her lower eyes are shut, and it’s wildly disorienting to no longer have the extra perspective, but she is self-conscious around people regarding her features. She knows in jujutsu society what her appearance triggers in these conservative sorcerers. She can still taste the blood of the higher ups on her tongue if she zones out enough.

     What the fuck?

     “A concert,” Airi repeats in a tone that says she clearly knows it for the bullshit it partially is. Sundari does not crumple in the face of the other woman’s scrutiny. Airi’s lips part, clearly about to say more but Satoru walks into the room and her attention shifts to him abruptly, her gaze going over Sundari’s shoulder. Sundari almost opens her lower eyes to look back but remembers in time and turns her head instead. Satoru isn’t smiling, and she can see there’s a slight tension in his frame as he regards his mother. It doesn’t take long for her to realize that Airi’s feigned gatekeeping is all smoke and no fire. Sundari returns her gaze to Airi’s and opens her lower eyes.

     The color drains from Airi’s face, her dark eyes wide as she startles at the sight of Sundari’s tattooed face and strange physiology. She’s been keeping a tight leash on her cursed energy up until now, but Airi feels it, a sinister and oppressive aura that sends chills down her spine.

     “You ready, babe?” Satoru asks. Sundari stands to her full height, bowing low to Airi and complimenting her lovely home. Satoru’s mother is as unmoved as glacial ice, but something akin to disgust floats across her gaze like an oil film on the water’s surface. Sundari rejoins Satoru, who is now clad in what she understands to be the traditional wear of jujutsu sorcerers of the clan. And as clan head, he looks every bit the role of what the pinnacle of sorcery should be.

     No blindfold, no sunglasses, and something about him looks and feels older. Whatever he came here to find has been found, and there’s a weight in his eyes that have nothing to do with his abilities.

     Satoru’s hand finds Sundari’s, lacing their fingers. Airi draws in a quiet but sharp breath at the sight.

     They leave.

Jujutsu Tech Tokyo Campus, November 30, 2018

     Sundari and Satoru return to Jujutsu Tech’s campus in the late afternoon. Reluctant to be parted but resigning themselves to their roles in the upcoming challenges, they linger beneath the massive tori marking the entrance to the school proper. Satoru reaches up, caressing Sundari’s cheek with his knuckles. She blushes, and he leans in to kiss her.

     “Your students are waiting,” Sundari whispers between kisses. “And I need to go and prepare.”

     Neither one of them move, and instead they simply stare at one another, wearing amused smiles that they are so alike in this way.

     “Don’t leave me,” Satoru says. Sundari’s smile turns sad, brows furrowing in concern.

     “I won’t,” she says. “I promise, I won’t. But you can’t leave me either.”

     Satoru grins. “I wouldn’t dream of it, goddess.” He is undaunted in the face of her exasperated eyeroll, but there is a tender bend to her smile that tells him she does not mind his nickname for her. He leans in, kissing her earlobe, teasing it with his teeth. She makes a small sound in her throat before lightly swatting him on the chest.

     “Behave,” she scolds and Satoru smiles with every intention of doing the opposite.

     Soon, however, they must move forward, and they part ways, their pinkies linked before the final moment of contact is broken. Satoru heads to the meeting room, and Sundari heads to one of the execution chambers. With Tengen taken and the barriers in a state of uncertainty, Sundari repurposes the execution room by adjusting the seals and barriers. She will be allowed to use jujutsu within it, without risking her power destroying everything around her. It was Satoru who suggested in for what she planned to do now.

     Sundari knows she’s close to unlocking this Kamino technique. She can practically taste the smoke of it on the back of her tongue. But gods above is it difficult! She knows Sukuna has a binding vow that keeps him from revealing the technique except in the case of…whatever he did in Shibuya.

     But if the technique is his, it must also be hers. She tries to remember the last time she used it, and when she does remember, she shivers to think on it.

     Apparently, the damage she did that night was as bad as what her father accomplished in Shibuya.

     The memory shakes her so badly, Sundari decides to leave the room, and try again when her mind and heart are purged of fear and uncertainty. She can’t afford to let a traumatic memory torment her, but it’s clear her sealing was not entirely unfounded.

     It’s dark outside when she passes into the courtyard. She’s been appointed a space in the teacher’s dormitories, and after she and Satoru stopped by his apartment [and hers], she’s decided to stay on campus until this war is over. She pinches the bridge of her nose to even call it a war. Against one man.

     Sundari thinks about her vow. Thinks and thinks and thinks…and she realizes that the solution is obvious. She can save Satoru from fighting her father, and rescue Megumi and her mother at once. It’s risky, because there’s a chance she can perish before enacting what she knows to be a reckless plan. She glances toward the darkness that marks the tori entrance. Beyond that, somewhere in the city, is her father. There are still people trapped in the city by the barriers, but the Games seem to be wrapping up with most of the players dead.

     There’s so much cursed energy radiating from Tokyo right now it’s making her teeth itch.

     Her lower eyes flick over to a sudden noise at her side. Satoru seems to materialize next to her. She doesn’t even tense up in his presence, her cursed energy a steady and controlled flame. Satoru inwardly beams with pride. His girl’s nerves are steely.

     “You’re up late,” he teases. “Did you do the thing?”

     Sundari looks confused for a moment before she remembers.

     “No,” she breathes out, frowning. “The last time I used it was when I massacred an entire town.”

     Satoru is quiet, and it’s a little unnerving because unmasked his eyes have an almost cosmic intensity that makes her feel exposed and naked under his gaze. It’s thrilling most of the time, but right now she feels vulnerable, and she just wishes he’d put the fucking blindfold on.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. Sundari turns to face him. “Or do you want to do something else?”

     Sundari considers the options for a moment and tries to bring the horrifying memory to the surface. She touches it like it’s an infected wound, and the psychic sting of remembrance and guilt worms its way into her brain again. Satoru can see her pulse hammering in her throat, and her cursed energy ripples and flickers like a wickless flame caught in a wayward breeze. His hands come to her shoulders, warm and firm and grounding.

     “Hey, pretty girl, look at me,” he says softly. Sundari’s cheeks flush with warmth but she looks at him, her gaze softening. “You’re still worried about me, aren’t you?”

     Sundari nods. “I can’t help it Satoru. I…the last time I lost someone I stained the world with my grief. I don’t want that to happen again.”

     “You’re not going to lose me.” Satoru says, his voice harder than he intends but it sobers Sundari up before she can spiral out of control. “Look at me. Sundari, you are not going to lose me. And I have no intention of losing you either.”

     She wants so badly to believe him. He’s so strong and brilliant and beautiful and funny. She wants to believe he’ll win this fight and come back to her no worse for wear. And then she can experience what it’s like to have a happy ending. She might even forgive her mother if it means she gets to keep Satoru here and send her father directly to Hell.

     Satoru presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, then to her lips. Then, he pulls her in for a warm embrace. Sundari shuts her eyes and breathes deep. He smells faintly of his cologne, but also there’s the scent of incense clinging to his haori. He’s been doing rituals, then. She lets the embrace soothe her, and sinks into the reality of Satoru right here, right now.

     “If he takes you from me, I’ll tear him apart,” she mumbles. Satoru laughs, stroking her hair before pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

     “I don’t doubt it,” he says. “I’m almost tempted to lose just so you can cut loo—ow! Hey, what was that for?”

     Sundari’s secondary mouth vanishes from her face, and she glares at him through one lower eye.

     “Don’t talk like that,” she says sharply, but there is a soft underpinning of vulnerability in her tone. “You’re going to win or I’m going to kick your ass and his.”

     Satoru grins, rubbing his cheek where she’d nipped him.

     “But—okay! You are so grouchy, when’s the last time you ate?”

November 30, 2018, Zenin Estate

     It’s raining. It’s been raining for several days, and in that time Nadja has only drawn her blades twice.

     Right now…right now, she cannot afford to think about blades. It doesn’t matter, for her weapons lay in a heaped pile, along with the suedes and leather of her armor. Right now, her mind is hazed with sex and passion and an impossible love rekindled as Sukuna’s hands rove and squeeze every sinuous curve of her body. Since their bitter quarrel only a week before, they have been existing in this strange species of tension that sees its only outlet in sex.

     Gods she had forgotten how good it had been. And it still is. Sukuna has been making up for lost time. Not quite vengeance, but neither of them seem keen on thinking about that right now.

     “Ryōmen…” Nadja’s voice comes out in a gasping whine in her chest. “I can’t…I can’t…”

     He has her pinned beneath him, folded in half, covering her with his massive frame, filling her with one cock while the other slides over her clit with every deep and powerful thrust that sets her bones to rattling. She is sore and aching in all her parts, but Sukuna’s stamina seeks to wring her limp with sweat, blood, and tears and come.

     “You can,” he growls into her slick skin, sucking another bruise onto her neck. “You will. Because you’re mine, Nadja.”

     And Nadja, who has lost her mind and her heart in the bargain, agrees. Anything to prolong the pleasure, anything to have him touching her and filling her, and she—

     Sukuna’s eyes narrow, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he feels the tide of her climax around his cock. He watches her eyes roll back in her head, lashes fluttering. She’s sputtering and sobbing, shivering and trembling as he buries himself to the hilt, relishing her whimpers of pain and pleasure alike. She mewls for him, and he realizes how badly he’s missed having her like this. By the time it’s time to kill Gojo Satoru, he wagers his balls will be completely empty, and his head clear.

     “Still such a good slut after all this time,” Sukuna rumbles, amused and cruel. He doesn’t stop fucking her, taking her to the point of exhaustion, coaxing incoherent and shivering climaxes out of her until he feels himself come inside of her, and only her belly and breasts. He makes a mess of her, the sheets, and the collapsed bed beneath them. The headboard had broken on day three, and the rest of the frame followed. Neither of them seems to care, lost in one another.

     In the end, they lay in the quiet aftermath, Nadja stitched to his side, his arms around her as he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, his face soft; one of his many hungers is satiated for now. It almost feels like before, when he and Nadja would eagerly engage in quiet discussion in the small hours of the night, make love until dawn colored the horizon, and enjoyed existing in one another’s orbit. Sukuna had once thought Nadja only loved him because he was strong, and vice versa. But he knows the truth. They had loved one another for more than strength and somewhere along the way, Nadja had proven that her definition of love was vastly different from the one he understood. It matters precious little, now. He knows this is a mere passing dalliance. When the time comes, one of them will have to decide to make the final blow.

     Sukuna cannot for the life of him figure out why the thought of killing her makes his mind shy from the notion; makes his heart quake and constrict and fold in on itself. He wonders why the thought of a world without her in it disappoints him.

     His brows go up when he realizes, and he looks down at her, his eyes hard and calculating. She’s fast asleep, and Sukuna softens his gaze. It is a rare and unguarded moment with her, and he takes time to look upon this face carved by Heaven itself. One of his hands comes up, pushes one of her braids aside, then traces an unhurried knuckle over her cheek. She makes a contented little sound that makes his heart skip a beat. Her lips, full and kiss-swollen, are slightly parted; her eyes are closed, lashes cresting on her cheeks like black waves. He commits this gentle, angelic face to memory. She has never been more beautiful than she is right now, vulnerable and unarmed in his embrace.

     Safe in his embrace.

     Sukuna grits his teeth, annoyed at his own sentimentality.

     “Do you ever sleep?” Nadja mumbles, not bothering to open her eyes. Sukuna cannot find it in himself to be cruel to her. Instead, a smile curls his mouth, fangs bared, and the bloody crimson of his eyes darkens as he makes Nadja purr with an idle caress.

     “I don’t need much sleep,” he says quietly. “Aside, you sleep enough for ten men.”

     Nadja cracks her eye open slightly to peer at him. He can taste the retort on her tongue, so he preemptively squeezes her thigh, making her groan. She turns her head, hiding her face in his chest. Her braids fall, curtaining her face.

     “As you say,” she mumbles, and he hears her sleepy yawn, her body limp and pliant as she returns to her slumber seemingly unconcerned for the monster whose arms can crush her if he feels so inclined.

     But instead, the monster adjusts his hold, cradling her and holding her close, cupping her head with one massive hand, leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. He knows what’s happening. He’s letting it happen, and she is too.

     His eyes drift close, he sinks down into his innate domain, wishing he could bring her here. Instead, he replays the memories of their encounters like a flickering film real. The memories play from a first-person point-of-view, so he sees Nadja through his own eyes within his soul. There, a blade in either hand, her remaining eye burning with volcanic fury; there, when she sought to drive her blades into his chest before he caught her wrists and broke them. Later, in one of the rooms of the estate, his kimono discarded, her blades and armor heaped and trailing. He watches as she welcomes his hungry kisses, their bodies smearing the blood of their wounds all over the floor as their fury and anger turns to honey.

     Sukuna watches Nadja open herself to him, her body welcoming him into her willing flesh. Sukuna shuts his eyes, remembering how she shuddered and moaned in abject relief, as if she had spent these last thousand years running toward this moment. He knows because he’s been doing the same thing.

     Sukuna can still taste her on his tongue, can smell her on his skin. His senses are soaked in her and he hates himself for reveling in it, from taking a delicious pleasure in having her again. There’s only one way this ends, and it’s not with a second child. Not that he can give her one. He’s still not sure how he got Sundari on her. Immediately, his reminiscing turns to suspicion, and he begins to turn the events over in his mind, scrutinizing every word and gesture. Nadja has had lifetimes to perfect her ability to damn her targets into her seductions. She understands his very particular brand of violence as if she invented it herself. Vicious, conniving, and ruthless.

     Except when it comes to one another.

     Sukuna opens his eyes, shifting out of his domain and back into the present. Nadja is still in his arms, content and fast asleep. She has orders to kill him, he knows. It is bound up in her damnable pact. Pierce the heart of the heartless.

     Tch. He’ll be damned if he makes it easy for her.

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ Masterpost || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ⤳

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[cienie-isengardu]

MK1 rant - Sektor's mother

*Attention, rant not spoiler free*

Keeping in mind it’s easy to criticize a worldbuilding when one was not involved in the creation process of it, I must say this - Netherrealm Studio lately is missing many potential, if not great opportunities to add a weight to connection between characters and in more general sense, layers to Liu Kang’s new Timeline. All, as I suspect, to keep the clear line between “good guys” and the “evil ones”. Which is quite a sad turn of events, as the worldbuilding presented so far is pretty nuanced and worth examining and building on. 

The latest missed opportunity is the choice of Sektor’s mother.

Sektor’s Bio put a great deal on her relationship with parents:

Sektor grew up immersed in Lin Kuei culture. Her mother was a leading warrior, her father was its Master Armorer. Sektor marveled at his flawless work. Apprenticing with him, she eventually surpassed her father's skills. When he retired, she took his place. But Sektor also wanted to honor her mother’s legacy. Now her vast knowledge of weaponry and her formidable martial skills make Sektor a kombatant like no other [...]

The presented intro dialogue between Sektor and Kuai Liang on twitter revealed that Madam Bo is in fact Sektor’s mother

Kuai Liang: You have dishonored Madame Bo. Sektor: Leave my mother out of this!

On one hand, Madam Bo trained Kung Lao and Raiden (and was going to test Raiden’s sister), so there is both connection between Lin Kuei and Liu Kang’s favorite Champions and an emotional impact, as she was forced to choose between duty to Fire Lord (and her “boys”) and her own daughter. Which is fine, surprising but not the worst possible choice. 

But lemme tell you this: imagine Sektor sharing the same mother with Bi-Han & Kuai Liang and the impact on Lin Kuei characters AND added layers to established previously lore.

For one, the original timeline stated Bi-Han had a younger brother (Kuai Liang) and youngest sister. With Sektor being a female now, this could nicely be a callback to ice brothers’ roots.

Secondly, Kuai Liang was established by his BIO as “Revered Lin Kuei Warrior”. The use of strong word as revered was suggesting Scorpion’s high position within the clan and/or him being admired by others members of Lin Kuei. Yet once Bi-Han broke the clan’s ties with Liu Kang/Earthrealm so far there was no mention of any Lin Kuei (beside Madam Bo?) choosing Scorpion over Sub-Zero. And logically thinking, there should be still plenty of people who served Kuai Liang’s father and shared his sense of duty. Sektor being, for lack of better terms, one of the “Lin Kuei Royal Family” would add a lot of weight to Kuai Liang’s statement: "You forget Cyrax and Sektor. Their loyalty to Bi-Han is absolute. They'll sooner abet his corruption than follow me."? As in: explaining why Sektor hold so strong influence over their people, developing more inner politics of the clan and expanding the family matters. Both to the biological siblings and to Tomas, especially his status within said family. If he was adopted into a clan that deeply cares for blood ties, does he have any political role/duties, or is he wholly excluded from the line of succession, leaving it only to Bi-Han and Kuai Liang & Sektor?

Thirdly, as Bi-Han was already implied to have a close bond with Sektor (MK1 Sub-Zero’s ending) and Sektor’s BIO confirms she is Bi-Han’s a “kindred spirit”, we could have a great sibling duo (supportive big brother Bi-Han and his loyal, eager to make him proud younger sister Sektor) and an interesting parallel to relationship of Bi-Han & Tomas or Kuai Liang & Tomas.

Fourthly, Sektor wishing to honor her mother while joining Bi-Han and supporting their clan’s independence would nicely fit Sub-Zero's statement that “mother would applaud [his actions].” Simultaneously, again we could have a better look on Lin Kuei inner matters and how the dislike for duty to Earthrealm/doing Liu Kang’s bidding didn’t come out of nowhere, but was a process already in motion. Sektor and Bi-Han being the product of their mother's ambitions and/or independence streak could add new layers to their characters. The same as Kuai Liang (and presumablyTomas) is the product of his father’s high sense of duty to Earthrealm.

Also, any opportunity to bring Bi-Han’s mother into the story is a bonus point to the lore, because that woman deserves recognition for her desperate attempt to save her children from Lin Kuei. And if NRS is so set to make Lin Kuei so “bloodties” oriented, they could turn Sektor and Bi-Han into siblings to A) spare me any worry about any potential romance between those two characters and B) add hilariously to the Kuai Liang & Sektor’s never ending conflict seen through the majority of old and new lore. 

I guess everything would be better in Mortal Kombat if NRS didn’t catch allergy to nuanced and morally gray characters… because Bi-Han could easily fall into that (and worldbuilding wise, could be seen like that) and so could Sektor, and their potential mother with ambition to cut ties with Liu Kang for good.

[formulinos]

on the monday after jeddah, eurosport fr dropped an episode of their podcast "les fous du volant" and one of the topics was, obviously, her. Scuderia Ferrari.

normally i wouldn't pay as much attention as to italian/british media but given that we have a stronger french presence in Ferrari again, i think these reports shouldn't be completely ignored. so, i listened to it and i did some notes, in case you guys missed it.

so, from 27:31, they talk about how the current performance and expectations for the season are just the tip of the iceberg. i split it into general topics, stuff that is important to note is in bold:

gino rosato: his function was external relations (link up and host the VIPs + any other task that involved dealing with the world outside of maranello); joined Ferrari before jean todt but just as an occasional freelancer - todt made him a full time employer; montezemolo and kimi protected him. he left with kimi in 2009 and came back with him in 2014; main feeling is that his role was more politic than it seemed and he acted as a supervisor of both inner and outer Ferrari at times; vigna took the Scuderia by his own hands when he came in and rosato was let go; since his role was such an insider role, he is the main suspect for the yapping to the italian press; vasseur's arrival tackled the binotto clan and started to dismantle it; bonus joke about rosato moving to AM.

laurent mekies: he was being prepped to become binotto's successor with his career evolution; vasseur reworked his role inside Ferrari after the restructuring that happened last year; the two studied in the same uni; he had several proposals (f1, fia, alpine/hyvia) in december but vasseur vetoed his exit; vasseur is inquired (probably by the board of directors) on how and why he's taking these choices of breaking up the binotto clan;

david sanchez: sanchez wouldn't have been let go easily with only vasseur's demand, means elkann authorised the move and is behind fred; thus, when vasseur says he has a lot of freedom, he probably means it; it's a matter of recreating the team culture; sanchez's move possibly opens a precedent for later moves: enrico cardille (head of chassis area) is close to his end of contract, yet to see if he is going to be retained as well since he is part of the binotto clan and he was part of the sf23 design team; sanchez fired after discussion w/ charles at training is at the very least interesting (they lowkey imply it was the final nail in the coffin); discussion as to whether Ferrari considers this year finished and must be sacrificed to develop 2024 or not - usually upgrades are anticipated in february according to what engineers might feel the car will require in the upcoming races, but we're yet to see if with the 2023 car will be affected by role changes. 

drivers: discussion on their approach to charles and how he felt he could have done more in jeddah if he was ahead of carlos; charles would have indeed inquired elkann on future plans for the team and the structure of Ferrari; they cite that his contract will end in 2024 and lots of teams might try to seduce him for 2025; sainz in an awkward role as no2 but not quite openly, also could rethink his future. 

the most interesting thing is the link to gino rosato as the possible leaker (he truly is one of kimi's closest friends, and was in Ferrari for nearly 30 years if you add his two stints up, but then again we never expected stepney to do spygate innit). i saw a few other outlets also name jonathan giacobazzi (executive race manager, whatever the fuck that means) as another possible whistleblower (he was let go together with gino) but i heard of no such thing in this podcast, at least. we'll stay tuned. forza Ferrari!

[randomidiocyncrazies]

okay i've thought a little more about fem!Nie Mingjue AU; gender matters a lot in the setting, and NMJ being described (and perceived by the fanbase) as such a masculine figure makes it interesting to think about how their life might've been like if they were a woman

(this is an exploration of NMJ as a cis woman, albeit one with (most probably) a complicated relationship with her gender, but if anyone has trans headcanons i'd love to know more!)

one of the biggest changes if NMJ is born a woman would be her role in the sect and in society. In canon NMJ was unmarried, wasn't betrothed to anyone, nor had plans to father children. this was not a cause for concern; he had a legitimate younger brother, so there was no succession crisis.

But as a woman, NMJ's duty as the sect leader's daughter would've been to marry strategically—that would be how she supports her sect and family, since she wouldn't have been raised with the expectation of becoming sect leader (that expectation would've gone to NHS). And as a legitimate* daughter born to the leader of a prominent sect, i think it's likely that she would have a childhood betrothal arranged before her father died/was killed.

*dichu 嫡出: I'm not familiar with an English equivalent and used "legitimate" here, but basically dichu children are children from a man's primary wife (妻) instead of his concubines (妾), and in terms of inheritance the sons of the wife gets the biggest share, followed by sons from the concubines. Daughters were generally not allowed to formally inherit anything until relatively recently; their dowry is their share of the inheritance (and technically the dowry belongs to them, not their husband's family—a mother's jewelry from her birth family can be passed down to her daughters etc). There is a ceremony to make a concubine into the primary wife (扶正), but iirc it's technically illegal if the wife is still alive/part of the household.

Since NMJ is the daughter of a prominent sect leader's primary wife, proper matches for her would've been the (legitimate/嫡出) sons of other sect leaders. Since we know very little about the minor clans allied with Qinghe Nie, I'm going to focus on the other major sects. Of those, I personally think one of Wen Rouhan's sons would've been the most likely betrothal candidate. There are multiple factors pointing towards a Nie-Wen match:

Wen Rouhan and Sect Leader Nie (seemingly) got along well before the murder-sabotage, so it'd make sense for them to pair their children up;

the Wen sect is powerful, and having a daughter marry into the sect is a solid political move on sect leader Nie's part;

it'd give Wen Rouhan a plausible pretext to interfere with the inner workings of the Nie sect via sect leader Nie's murder, especially if it was an attempt to manipulate the Nie siblings to be reliant on "future father-in-law" during such a trying time. WRH did not anticipate his involvement in the murder getting out, which gives NMJ a reason to break off the betrothal—marrying the son of your father's alleged murderer would've been dishonorable. WRH probably also didn't anticipate the Nie sect to stand behind NMJ as someone they can rally around until NHS comes of age.

I personally lean towards Wen Xu being NMJ's childhood fiance, for dramatic effect during the Sunshot Campaign—even if NMJ didn't have as much authority as her canon counterpart during the war, I think she'd still be active on the front-lines (maybe as NHS's body-double or bodyguard), and it'd still be possible for her to decapitate Wen Xu & have his body trampled as an intimidation tactic, with the double-edged sword of making her seem more unhinged/brutal in the average cultivator's eyes.

I also think there's more tension? resentment? between NHS and NMJ, if NMJ was a woman. the vibe i got from NHS in canon was that he never wanted the burden of being sect leader (which imo is at least partially influenced by Nie sect's destructive cultivation style), and in canon NHS had breathing space/wriggle room to indulge in his hobbies when NMJ was alive.

but if NMJ was a woman, it's very likely that the other sects would've dismissed her entirely, and her authority would be a lot more tenuous because the other sects would only accept her as an interim leader until the 'proper' heir NHS takes over from her (including NMJ herself—I don't think she was necessarily for women's rights, sorry. She cares about honor, and honor in this instance imo would've been to protect the sect for her little brother and hand the sect back over to him when he's ready to take over). So NHS grows up with far more pressure on him to take his position as the next sect leader seriously, and there's more pressure on him to not goof off indulging in his own hobbies. He has less leeway to blow off steam and must bear the burden of sect leader much earlier. Unlike canon, i don't think he has as much opportunity to cultivate his "head-shaker" reputation, since he can't appear to be too incompetent, though i think he does hide the full extent of his competence/quick wit because he saw as a child what appearing like a threat means (i.e. betrayal and a painful death like their father).

Meanwhile, NMJ might be frustrated by her brother playing dumb here and there, which she probably saw as him not taking his responsibilities seriously. Having essentially run the sect since she was a teenager, she might also chastise him over policy disagreements/give advice when he didn't ask for it etc. On top of that, the other sects also have their own speculations about the power dynamics in the Nie sect, and the politically inclined might or might not spread rumors about sect leader Nie being a puppet of his ambitious sister. In other words: the Nie siblings have to present a united front, and it has to look like NHS is calling the shots even when NHS feels like he's stuck between a rock and a hard place (e.g. his sister arguing with him about some stance they should take as a sect, and knowing there's gonna be political fallout with the other sects either way).

Also, this is not to say NMJ doesn't understand politics; she couldn't afford to not be aware of how it works, especially as a young teen being the regent for her younger brother, and the Nie sect retaining a relatively high standing all these years speaks for itself. I just think NMJ doesn't bother with playing games herself, and there are certain principles she will not bend. (Like... lying is not tolerated, but I think she understands the value of framing things a certain way, as long as you don't lie about it.)

Anyway. I think the Nie siblings love and care about each other—would die and kill for each other, especially in the aftermath of their father's death—but they also have some unresolved issues about NMJ being NHS's older sister instead of older brother.

(on that note, i think multiple people have lamented NMJ being born a girl growing up: in canon NMJ's mom and NHS's mom didn't seem to have beef with one another, but i think family dynamics might be more tense if the primary wife 'failed' to give her husband an heir, while the concubine did. So whether it was just wistful musings or something more bitter, I think NMJ's mom would've wondered out loud what life could've been like if NMJ was the heir, i.e. a boy

i think NHS's mom might've also wished NMJ was a dude, especially after her husband died and they saw first-hand how horrible a qi deviation death was; i don't think she's a bad stepmom to NMJ at all, but there's a part of her that wishes her own son was spared from the fate of dying young in such a way, and would rather NMJ carry the burden than her own son

I could also imagine NMJ's dad joking about how it's too bad she's not his son, kind of proud of her fierce pride and forthright nature but also casually putting her down for not being ladylike enough; there's also a sense that NMJ's talents are 'wasted' bc sexism 🙄

and then you also have the Nie elders and disciples when the sect leader was incapacitated/dies. his heir is 8 years old, the sect is looking at a stretch of instability that could have huge repercussions for their sect's future, and it'd be so much less complicated if the sect leader's other child—barely old enough at 14—is someone they could put into place as the new sect leader without the other sects laughing them out of their position as one of the great sects etc etc. the Nie sect does rally around her until NHS is old enough to take leadership, but it'd be easier if she was a dude)

[tenleaguesbeneath]

maybe I've said this before but a huge missed opportunity in BattleTech, with its interstellar jump ships having a (huge) 30-light-year jump range with all jumps out to max range being equivalent in terms of time needed, and all jumps having equal access to all standard jump points and pirate points in the destination system, is that there aren't any regions of space in the Inner Sphere where

each system belongs to a single country

the region as a whole belongs to multiple

each country is capable of traversing the whole region from any side to any side while only staying in their country's systems

the way their jump mechanics work, being 25 light years from the border inside of another country's space means your supply lines are only one jump longer than the ones running to the one border system, and you're not exposed to any more attack angles than that border system is.

An advantage of doing this from a game design perspective is that you get more worlds exposed to raiding and more borders. It's easier to justify a Free Worlds League raid into the Federated Suns if there's a borderlands in the Capellan sector (whether it's contested between the Capellans and the FWL or the FS doesn't really matter).

The Clans sort-of do this, but Clan worlds are more often than not split between multiple Clans. They're also Clanner weirdos.

The other big missed opportunity is that their space feudalism is really more space absolute monarchy with feudal trappings, except when they want to tell a story that's more specific to a vassal (like MechWarrior 4). If each of the Great Houses was a microcosm of the Star League, with 3-6 major Vassal Houses who they have to keep appeased, even if the Vassal Houses aren't explored very much (tho with how much BT canon there is, they'd end up getting explored), you'd also have reasons for, say, Kurita forces to fight Kurita forces (each vassal house buys their mechs from the same people as their liege does).

They do this a little bit with house Hasek but they should be more prominent and also have rivals and allies within Davion space (and, for that matter, allies within Liao space)

This would also explain why it took them 200 years to try a political marriage between two great houses, if the vassals had to be appeased. For 200 years, there was never a time when two Great Houses had enough consolidation of power over/support from their vassals at the same time to marry their heirs together like that.

Both of these increases to the chaos would also give more room for mercs and pirates to operate, which is always fun.

[bimgtt]

If Naruto was written in Seinen pattern

Naruto is a great series and a masterpiece but it has its flaw,

the thing is author focused the story too much on main 2 characters then always told the past important events by the dialogues of some important characters but this isn't fair bc we need to know Uchiha's/other side of the story and other villages side of the story too

to understand the true intensity of the situation they were talking about and justify certain characters actions,

then there madara and onoki's conversation,

we don't when it happened and what madara was doing there and who told him to act like that,

inner monologues from madara and itachi and some other characters in those event will give us the true pic of how they really felt and what they were feeling,

then how did hashirama died and 1st shinobi war turned out, how was Tobirama's reign, how were Uchiha treated by villagers, how much damage obito did to mist village, the conversation when hiruzen signed treaty with kumo, how hyuga cadet branch aside from neji actually felt, how haku's clan get destroyed, how much effort did uchiha and hiruzen put in to solve the prb, how danzo and shisui so sure that there might be a war or just speculation, was uchiha capable of causing civil war or they easily overpowered by village top shinobi branch, why would there be civil war bc whole village is die hard loyal to Hokage that's why they never question the village leader no matter how difficult the life was, what was kakashi's father mission that he was bullied for, naruto and sasuke's relation with villagers at a young age, how and why did they shun sasuke! villagers true reaction in mass to the news of Uchiha massacre on panel in person etc

so many question not answered properly, some fans in the fandom use there own interpretation for the lack o information cause misinformation,

I bet if it was a Seinen, we might be able to get the answer to these questions,

another thing author didn't focus on fleshing out the theme for on larger scale only for some character,

like cycle of hated and how it impacted the shinobi world and its war economy and then their daimyo and their roles and so many questions,

naruto going to be a future leader of the village, why doesn't he talk about politics and how he can solve these social problems with the villains at least we will know naruto's leadership skill but only focus on emotional and theoretical aspect,

I bet it was written in seinen,

we could have seen naruto's true leadership skill along with being motivational speaker ,

then there SS and NH,

their development not shown in manga but after it ended,

I felt like author tries to focus on naruto's commercial success and not on quality writing,

no wonder boruto's story is so lazy,

that's why I had prb with naruto and i thought if it was seinen then writing would be more in detailed and not one sided and not 2 characters focused most of the time