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thepenultimateword · 1 year
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Love Thy Enemy Part 2
I wrote part one a while ago, but this seemed like a perfect post to add to the fantasci community! Also, the characters now have names. General is now Vorrin and Empress is now Callista.
Part One
Vorrin awoke with a start. He didn't know at what point he drifted into real sleep, but the early morning sun now bathed the room in dull, dove-gray light. But not his room. He abruptly rolled over onto his other side. The space beside him was now empty.
He flopped onto his back with a heavy sigh. That was probably for the best. Falling asleep next to her had been hard enough, he hadn't exactly wanted to wake up next to her too. He already felt entirely too vulnerable.
"Good morning."
Vorrin yelped, shooting upright and whipping his head around the room until he landed on Empress Callista's long, slender figure lounging in one of the plush sitting chairs. She smirked and crooked one dark brow, but other than that made no comment on Vorrin's embarrassing display.
"Breakfast?"
"You're still here," Vorrin said.
"Indeed. I did say we'd be spending more time together, didn't I?" She lifted the delicate teacup from its saucer and took a long, silent sip. "You slept in a little longer than expected, but no matter. We still have about an hour."
"Before?"
"You're coming into the city with me. It's about time people saw us together publicly. Besides, the change of scenery may be good for you."
Vorrin hated how she could sound conniving in one breath and caring in the next. What was he? Her pet? Something to parade around and spoil? Did she really think that any of these luxuries or favors could change his feelings about what she'd done? Though he did not deny, that a part of him longed to leave these palace walls. It had been months since he'd been any further than the gardens.
He swung his legs over the mattress and gingerly rose to his feet. "Shouldn't I get back to my rooms? To get ready?"
"I've already requested your manservants to attend to you here. They'll bring your change of clothes and fix your hair.
"My...?" Vorrin glanced across the room into the great gold-framed looking glass overhanging the vanity and found his long, chocolate hair had decided to tangle itself into a bird’s nest on one side. The other side lay frazzled over his shoulder, like he'd taken to rubbing it between two whetstones. Probably all that tossing and turning last night.
Vorrin rapidly dragged his fingers through the mess. It didn't seem fair that Empress Callista's hair still remained tight and tidy in it's whippish tail.
"You still have a few minutes before they arrive. You should eat. Reports tell me you don't eat much, but this is your favorite breakfast."
Vorrin crept toward the spread. A kettle sat on a wooden hot plate, the scent of sweet mint escaping out it's long silver spout. Beside it sat a plate full of steaming biscuits, halved, buttered and slathered in strawberry jam.
His stomach growled traitorously.
Empress Callista waved to the open seat across from her.
Vorrin begrudgingly accepted. The bitterness only grew as the cushions sank beneath him, setting him a couple inches shorter than the empress. But he tried not to let the annoyance show on his face as he stacked three biscuits on top of each other and took a large bite. Letting her know he was upset would only give her more power.
His stomach squirmed a little as he swallowed. This really was his favorite breakfast. He wondered how much she knew about him already. He'd known all the servants in the palace were her people, but he hadn't realized that they'd been her eyes as well. How much did they report? How much of what he said, of what he did, had been repeated back to her?
"Even if you weren't from an enemy nation, I'd still have you watched," Empress Calista said. Vorrin shuddered a little at the way she seemed to read his mind. "You're my consort. It's my responsibility to ensure you are properly attended to. That means keeping you safe and meeting your creature comforts. Better if I understand what makes you happy."
"My freedom would make me happy."
Callista tapped her lips thoughtfully with the edge of her spoon before using it to scoop a couple cubes of sugar into her half-full cup. "I suppose I can arrange an armed escort every now and then if you're restless."
"That's not what I mean and you know it."
"And you know I can't let you go. So why don't we both stop pretending?"
A light rap on the door snapped the growing tension in two.
"Enter," the empress called in that gracious voice of royalty. Not too loud, not too aggressive, but commanding all the same.
The door creaked, and Pins poked his head through the door, a small leather bag slung over one shoulder. At the sight of the empress he immediately bent in half, folding his hands in front of him and gluing his eyes to the floor.
"We've come to prepare Royal Consort Vorrin for the day, your majesty."
"Right here, Pins," Vorrin said.
Pins's head rose a centimeter toward Vorrin's voice, then he raised up all at once with a large grin. "Good morning, Royal Consort. Your hair is exciting this morning. I've brought a brush and several accessories for you to choose from. Would you like to get started, or would you prefer to dress first?"
As if on cue, Switch slid into the room, breathing heavy and face flushed, a long red garb draped across his arms. He bowed hastily to Vorrin and then deeper to the Empress, speaking to the floor as he began profusely apologizing. "Forgive me, your majesty, Royal Consort Vorrin. The outfit selected for today had a tear. The royal tailor claims it will not be ready until this evening. I took the great liberty of selecting another outfit of a similiar style. Does it please your majesty?"
Empress Callista's sharp eyes scanned over the draping fabric in a couple seconds. "It will do."
Switch looked ready to melt with relief. He turned sharply on his heel toward Vorrin, eyes still wide, frantic, and slightly watery as if he had been, or barely held back from, crying.
"Then shall I, my lord?"
Vorrin felt all eyes on him, but most importantly he felt the gaze of Empress Callista. If her eyes seemed sharp overseeing his outfit, they were even more daggerish digging into his side profile. He gripped the neck of his nightclothes tightly, a humiliating squire's blush rising to his cheeks as he couldn't seem to make his hands take the action to undress.
After what felt like an eternal silence, she pushed smoothly to her feet. "I'll leave you to it. Remember, darling, one hour."
And with a swish of her braid and long cape, she was gone.
As soon as the door shut, Switch immediately collapsed.
"I thought I was going to be fired," he bawled, a few tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
"Empress Callista doesn't fire people for finding tears in clothes," Pins said.
Switch's head snapped up. "Don't act smart, you've only been here as long as I have. You didn't know what was going to happen either!"
For the first time, it occurred to Vorrin that the two servants may be as fresh to the royal scene as he was.
"How long have you been working in the palace?"
Switch hesitated a moment, always the suspicious one. Maybe he thought Vorrin wanted to berate him for the clothing mishap.
"A little under 6 months," he answered finally. "I applied for a position as soon as word came that the empress would be staying in Totholan. I traveled here with the rest of the serving caravan."
Vorrin had assumed after the kingdom's conquering that Empress Callista had sent for her regular palace staff. Those she most trusted. But it made sense that she would have left some to care for the homeland palace in her absence. Any person wishing to make it into the Empress's employ would seize the sudden surge of job availabilities. And all it took was a willingness to relocate.
"And you, Pins?"
"6 months and 10 days," he piped peevishly. "Switch was only mostly right when he said we've been here the same amount of time. I was hired on before we found out of the empress's success. So I've been in the palace just a teensy bit longer. Plus, my mum was a maid, so I was already used to palace walls."
"But the empress wasn't there when you started work," Switch said. "So it doesn't make you any more the expert."
"Why do you always need to be better at everything?" Pins said with a pout. "Why can't you just admit I have something on you?"
"Because you don't."
Before Pins could respond, Switch marched away, laying the clothes across the bed and stepping behind Vorrin to begin helping untie his white sleep clothes.
"I wouldn't have let her fire you," Vorrin said, sliding out of the sleeves and letting the soft linen fall into Switch's hands. "If that's of any comfort."
Switch paused, folding the nightclothes into a neat square before finally responding. "It is."
He retrieved the new outfit, blessedly allowing Vorrin to put the first part on himself. It was a little different from most of clothing he was given. Trousers for one. Impractical ones, but trousers nonetheless. Next was a long ruffled tunic that laced all the way up to his throat. Switch helped him with the long draping overcoat, a similar style to the wrapping robes, though this one had no waist tie and buttoned to the middle of his chest. For his bare feet was a pair of short soft boots, little thicker than slippers.
As soon as he was dressed, Pins got started brushing through his hair until it was silky.
"Which ones?" he asked, pulling a leather wrap from his bag and unfolding a display of hair ornaments. Ruby hairpins and golden chains, a net-like crown, encrusted with jewels, a gold circlet with red diamond teardrops dangling at the temples, twin clips designed to appear as sprigs of current berries, each ruby a berry on a silver branch. Vorrin chose the ruby pins. They still may have been worth more than he'd ever made in his entire career, but at least they were less gaudy than these others.
"Aw," Pins said. "I wanted to do the net and chains." Then suddenly remembering they were addressing a superior quickly added, "But the pins are lovely too!"
"You can add the chains," Vorrin sighed.
Pins perked up, plucking up the metal strings and beginning to braid them into strands of Vorrin's hair. He gathered half the hair into a bun, using the ruby pins to secure it and the gold-twined braids together.
A couple minutes later, Empress Callista pushed open the doors without a knock. She surveyed Vorrin swiftly before giving the manservants an approving nod that sent them grinning and offering her arm out to Vorrin.
"Shall we, my love?"
Vorrin gritted his teeth. Such falseness. Such lies. Such utter humiliating mockery.
He linked arms with her anyway.
If he knew one thing it was this: he couldn't win against Empress Callista with brute force. He would need another tactic. A passive one. Something that looked deceivingly like cooperation. Until the time was right to strike.
Part 3
Master Taglist: (I forgot to add it again!)
@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees s @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi i @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner r @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer mer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee
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mk-oc-imagines · 4 months
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Can anyone write Love-Hate relationship between those two or straight up hate-f or does ya girl have to write it herself?
(I'm not condescending or anything, pls, take this post as a joke or lightly)
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empress-pug · 1 year
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Do you take romantic killer (the anime) requests? if yes can you do general hijiri koganei headcannons?
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Hijiri Kogane x reader is now entering the FLUFF ballroom…
ALSO IF YOU MEANT GENERAL HEADCANNONS PLATONICALLY PLS TELL ME AND ILL REDO IT!!!
These headcannons are completely random and he might be ooc sorry!
It’s super short too, disappointed in myself for that but I genuinely could not think of anything
Content warnings: none
Not proofread
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I feel like he’s the type to spoil you, buying anything you eyes lay on for more than 1.67 seconds.
That cute accessory from your favorite show? Bought. A particular outfit you spoke about for a while? Oh look, a package appeared at your doorstep with the outfit inside!
In terms of dates, beautiful and expensive places- if that’s not your cup of tea then he’s down to go to the quaint coffee shop that opened up at the end of the block. (anywhere you want he will not complain as long as it makes you happy)
If you’re the talkative type then you’ve got yourself a great listener. He’lo listen to you, make sure no one interrupts you, and stares at you with such adoration in his eyes as you talk about something that crossed your mind.
Could you imagine getting sick and having him as your caretaker? It would be a learning experience for him and a rather chaotic time for you. Him wanting to tak if your himself, asking and searching up what to do, making your towel colder or hotter, homemade soup with the best ingredients. At first he’s be hesitant to be around you if it’s not to take care of you but he’ll soon cave in and give you cuddles (might make him sick but oh well) But he wont give you anything without any remarks about how dumb you have to be to get sick, like HeLLOO?? How dare you get sick smh..
Oh en geee imagine how your birthday would be with him!!! He’s bring you to a beautiful place, gifts laying on top of a small but obviously valuable table, the smell of roses and the cake being made by a highly sought out baker. And a cupcake made by him! Telling you how you’re lucky to have him, lucky to be blessed by his presence, lucky for him to be celebrating your birthday with you. You can shut him up with a kiss tho he’ll die on the inside might scoff or have a flush faced and quickly turn around
If you’re ever sad, listening and spewing words of comfort and kindness are not below him. He’d do it without hesitation if it meant seeing your pretty smile once more!
Hes romantic but not overly romantic, you’d probably have to squeeze it out of him. But trust me when I say when and if you squeeze it out of him you’ll be stuck with him. It’s him or him, no one else. I mean he did allow you to be with him, not a luxury many people find themselves bathing in.
He doesn’t have a preference in terms of cuddling, he’d try to be a big spoon but then you end up wooing him, then he ends up sloping you and that turns into a cycle. He’s needs his beauty sleep so try not to wake him up, he doesn’t wanna look like a mess in front of you, if you do he’ll only respond in sarcastic remarks
Two words: hand squeezes.
That’s it…
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BY THE WAY FOR THE RECORD I write Erlang Shen as repressed, not in denial. I think that's an important distinction to make. This man is suffering under a dozen layers of Confucian "don't ask don't tell" mentality, the strict emotional suppression of growing up in a scholar-class, martial-class noble family, and his own tangled emotions about how his parents died as a result of falling in love. He is very well aware of his emotions and why he feels them. He's just going "no thanks" and shoving them under his bed.
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randomwritingguy · 2 months
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types, Mortal Kombat (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shao Kahn/Sindel (Mortal Kombat), General Shao/Sindel (Mortal Kombat), Jerrod/Sindel (Mortal Kombat) Characters: Shao Kahn (Mortal Kombat), General Shao (Mortal Kombat), Sindel (Mortal Kombat), Liu Kang, Fire God Liu Kang, Reiko (Mortal Kombat), Jerrod (Mortal Kombat), Li Mei (Mortal Kombat), Raiden (Mortal Kombat), Kitana (Mortal Kombat), Mileena (Mortal Kombat), Original Characters, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Game 12: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023), Outworld (Mortal Kombat), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Age Difference, Older Woman/Younger Man, Boss/Employee Relationship, Power Dynamics, Angry Sex, Angry Kissing, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Porn With Plot, Angst, Daddy Issues, Forbidden Love, Forbidden, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Desk Sex, Arguing, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Secret Relationship, Pining, Sad, Hurt No Comfort, Flashbacks Summary:
After drunkenly insulting Raiden and Earthrealm at Outworld's banquet, General Shao is summoned to meet with Empress Sindel regarding his behaviour.
They talk...and more.
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persephoneggsy · 2 years
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so i ship reyux
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cassanderasblog · 5 months
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The Fallen Kingdom (Project) ll Masterpost
-- Summary : When you love you give everything to the person whom you love and you did the same. You gave everything to your husband the crown prince your heart, your loyalty, your power..... And return what you got was only betrayal. From him , from your best friend..... You lost your only reason to live... Your son... You died for the man who killed your baby boy thinking it would be the end but it seems like some people want you back, they want you to live .....
And that's why you are back to square one..... The day you where you first time meet your ex husband, the crown prince, but this time you had promised to yourself, you wouldn't let him get you, and even if you did, you would destroy everything he have, you would destroy everything that can give him happiness.
-- Pairing : various yanderes x ex empress (in former life)reader
-- Warning : Fantasy , yandere, unhealthy obsession, cheating , death , murder , poisoning, reincarnation...
-- Genere : romance , poly!au, supernatural, fantasy , action , thriller, drama
-- Status : Ongoing
--Interesting facts : #01 #02
--Character Moodboards: Cardinal Johan Callahan , Ariston Y/n L/n , Anara Y/n L/n , Reina Cydaea , Emperor Ambrosius Calypso
____________________________________
Chapter one: When then betrayer is betrayed
Chapter two : Poisioned cups and broken trust
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meiieiri · 5 months
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water’s edge | 01
₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au
₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?
₊˚.༄ author’s note: thank you so much to @angstbot2000, my awesome beta-reader for sitting through this 9.07k word count monstrosity of a first chapter! and with that, here we go~!
₊˚.༄ masterlist
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He was every bit the worldly man portrayed to be by the media and that alone is enough to terrify you, even as you sit about a full foot apart from him, feeling the pinprick of his ice-cold demeanor pierce your skin like a thousand needles.
“Your Highness, how have we never heard of your relationship with Ms. (Y/N) before unlike your previous ones?”, a correspondent from the NHK Broadcasting Corporation asks from the crowd of reporters, surprisingly at their most civil and dignified behavior before their future emperor and empress, literal gods in mortal form, embodiment of unadulterated divinity on earth in Japan’s distinct imperial past, one much different from today’s democratic and liberal political climate.
Gojo’s eye twitches at that.
It was a simple question, but it struck a nerve in him, angering him more than you ever could by merely existing. Though it was a valid inquiry, all of Satoru’s relationships have always been well-documented by the media, save for one. His supposed relationship with you.
You move to clutch his hand in an attempt to calm him down, having sensed his discomfort, but he only shrugs his hand away before you could even come within a quarter of an inch of touching him.
“My apologies, your Highness,” the reporter apologizes quickly when Satoru doesn’t answer right away, turning to the woman in charge of the press conference, situated by the podium displaying the seal of the imperial family. “Sorry, may I rephrase that?”
She turns to look at the prince, subtly asking for his permission. With a slight nod of his head, Satoru doles out his merciful forgiveness towards the reporter, keenly aware that it would only take him a second to have his staff contact the NHK Broadcasting Company and have them fire him before he could even return to the office.
“Thank you,” he bows gratefully. “Rephrasing my earlier question, would your Highness mind if you share a few words about how you and Ms. (Y/N) met?”
Satoru Gojo is a man who goes by many identities, as attested by tabloids and reputable newspapers alike; they agree on the fact that Satoru Gojo is a womanizer, a card shark, and the harbinger of disaster to the imperial family. He never sleeps with the same woman more than once, oftentimes leaving a poor naive girl entangled in a mess of sheets even before the morning sun filters through the motel’s bedroom windows. The crown prince isn’t entirely heartless though, he is quite known to leave a generous sum of money tucked neatly in a small envelope as a “thank you” gift to all the women he’s been with.
Not that it dulls the sting of humiliation, of course, it still hurts like hell to be treated as an expendable commodity that’s only good for a one night stand.
Funny how that grotesque description is starting to sound like you.
Another rumor about Satoru Gojo is that he’s a reckless card shark; one who goes to fine hotels during after-hours when the bar and lounge is reworked into a gambling den for the ultra rich and wealthy, closed to the unsuspecting plebeians, only frequented by those whose morals fall within the scope of gray and obsidian black. The young prince has been rumored to religiously go to these kinds of establishments to play high stakes poker games more often than he ever visits the family shrine where his ancestors are entombed in an uneasy eternal rest. The poor Emperor Meiji must be rolling in his grave seeing the imperial family’s impending doom at the hands of his great great grandson whose only real ambition in life is to waste it on the vulgar things that high society hedonistically craves.
One last thing to keep in mind about your fiancé is that he is a consummate actor, having honed the talent of keeping up appearances since his first public appearance as a child of only seven years old, alongside his mother and father during the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics which Tokyo had been selected to host earlier that year.
He squeezes your hand, despite rejecting the compassionate gesture earlier, and looks deep into your eyes with false fondness, fully aware that he was imagining the face of another in place of yours.
His nails bitterly dig into your skin as the cameras go off, capturing the tender moment between the two of you. To anyone outside the circle which you and Satoru unwillingly find each other entrapped in, the two of you were the quintessential picture-perfect couple, gazing at one another as if the world the two of you had found yourselves in would spiral out of its orbit had one of you dared to look away, The tabloids have even begun to call your unexpected engagement a modern-day fairytale unfolding before everyone’s eyes.
But that was just it, this entire arrangement — you and Satoru Gojo were nothing more than unwilling participants in a fabricated Cinderella story.
“Well, we met informally a few times before, during the national shamisen competition held in Kyoto two years ago and the awarding ceremony of our very own national artists where she received the title of ‘national treasure’ earlier last year–”
The many reporters scribble this information down on their bullet journals or tablets, hoping to piece together the exact timeline of this relationship. It is rather peculiar for the crown prince to suddenly reveal he is getting married, and to some mystery woman at that — not that the press was unfamiliar with you,with most of them being very much aware of your identity as a renowned traditional Japanese instrumentalist, but what eludes them is the manner in which you found yourself suddenly romantically involved with Prince Satoru Gojo of all people, whose affairs are heavily publicized by the media. The grotesque manner in which it is publicized is a different story.
“But we first met formally during His Majesty the Emperor’s silver jubilee. His Majesty is a benefactor to the Japan Arts Council and is a patron to many music conservatories in the country, and as such, is very interested in the fine arts. It just so happened that Ms. (Y/N) had been invited to play for us on the night of the Royal Gala.”
That was typical; the prince first meets the princess in a ball, looking upon her absolutely enthralled as she enters the ballroom, captivated like he was under some form of trance. His eyes would stay glued to her as she danced along to the crescendo of the string quartet, the hem of her gown fluttering about her form like a gentle stream of star-fall as she twirled gracefully under the bright chandelier lights. His lips would be parted, dazedly wondering who the girl could be and if they were ever fated to meet again.
But alas, one has to remind themselves that the age of dreaming of such hopelessly romantic nonsense, especially at twenty-three, is long over.
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FLASHBACK: His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala
The Chrysanthemum Throne should have died the day the envoys of the late Emperor Shōwa, Foreign Minister Mamora Shigemitsu and General Yoshijiro Umezu, ascended the gangway of the USS Missouri to sign the unconditional surrender of the Japanese Empire to the allied forces that laid waste to the Japanese islands. With the allied powers marching onwards to the capital city of Tokyo, having left nothing in their wake but the ashes of an empire that had been brought to its knees by the fires of merciless destruction that rained from countless air raids, the narrative should have moved towards the abolishment of the entire imperial system and the immediate execution of the emperor. But in a bid to refashion the emperor as a symbol of continuity for Japan, General Douglas Macarthur’s decision to not hold Emperor Shōwa accountable for the war crimes committed in his name during the height of World War II allowed the last remnant of Japan’s imperial past to survive. Save for the removal of the emperor’s political power, the oldest monarchy in the world was left relatively unharmed.
Still, despite the fact that the imperial system had been effectively humbled after the war, this was not so evident as you walked through the imposing halls of the imperial palace.The Kita-Damari north lobby you passed through earlier gave an impression of uncontested refinement; the entire floor had been constructed from the most exquisite granite from Yamaguchi prefecture, and the walls embellished with cedar wood that can only be found in Kumamoto prefecture. If the lobby was meant to portray elegance, then, the Houmei-den State Banquet Hall exuded an air of absolute power that could make anyone tremble in the face of such magnificence; you could recognize the tapestry work of the legendary artist Gakuryo Nakamura as the main decoration piece for the walls, and even more rare stones and wood from Japan’s many prefectures serving as the foundation of the gargantuan hall.
It was half past nine when you accidentally locked eyes with the crown prince that night. This entire time, you’ve envisioned the imperial family as images on your phone screen. You didn’t think for one second that they could be real and that Satoru Gojo, the crown prince of your nation, despite all the disturbing rumors surrounding him these past few years, would be so ethereally beautiful, like he had been fashioned from pure celestial moonlight.
You avert your gaze immediately upon catching yourself staring at him, knowing you weren’t supposed to as part of royal protocol which you’d been thoroughly briefed on the moment you received the invitation to perform for the imperial family. You uneasily remove yourself from the hall in search of the lavatory to touch up your makeup when you come face-to-face with the empress who also excused herself from the festivities to get some air.
She doesn’t notice you at first as she continues to take a drag from her cigarette, staring blankly at the koi fish that swam about the courtyard garden’s pond. From afar, she looked to be an ordinary woman, not the untouchable monarch you thought she was alongside the rest of her family, her ivory hair was neatly pulled back into a tight bun, several crystal hair pieces dotting her silky locks. You quietly made your way towards the powder room, your pace slowing down as you inch closer to the empress not really knowing what to do.
Should you let her be while she’s having a moment to herself or do you intrude on the hallowed ground of her presence as protocol dictates with a low curtsy?
“Your Royal Highness,” you greet her, in a soft voice, stopping to curtsy as you pass by and she kindly hums in acknowledgement.
“Ms. (Y/N),” she turns to face you, discarding her half-finished cigarette in the jade ashtray. “Forgive me for smoking in front of you, do you mind?”
Secondhand smoke.
From that statement alone, though brief as it is, sheds light into the empress’s character as being empathetic, and compassionate. You shake your head, subconsciously playing with your clutch bag. “Thank you.” She reaches into her clutch bag again to pull out her pack, slotting a cigarette between her lips. “How are you enjoying the banquet so far? I hope it is to your liking.”
“I don’t think what I say should really matter. After all, I’m only a guest.” Your meek character causes the empress to let out the tiniest of laughs. A smile plays at your lips seeing her face morph into a soft chortle, her earlier troubles seemingly leaving her mind for a bit as she speaks with you. “But, in all seriousness, your Highness, I think the banquet is going well. Most of the other guests seem to feel the same way.”
The empress nods, relieved. “That’s good to hear, by the way, I hope your performance goes well,” she says. “His Majesty and I have been looking forward to it all evening.”
A blush paints your cheeks. As the only guest artist who will be playing a traditional Japanese instrument, the tsugaru shamisen, you were the odd one out among the other distinguished national artists who will be playing Western instruments such as the piano, the harp or the violin and many others. “That means a lot to me, your Highness, thank you,” you bow forty-five degrees.
“Well,” the empress says warmly, wrapping up the surprisingly refreshing conversation. “I wouldn’t want to keep you now, I’ll see you back inside,” she picks up her pearl-embellished clutch bag, and re-arranges her diamond tiara before excusing herself. As she makes her way back inside the reception hall to rejoin her family, she thinks back to the girl she just serendipitously met with a small smile on her face. Ms. (Y/N), she thinks to herself, recalling your name with a certain lightness in her heart.
Just then, her son, Satoru walks up to her, righting his lapel and the medal of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum pinned to the left breast-pocket of his full royal uniform. “Mother,” he greets her formally, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Gojo’s face falls when he sees his mother’s watchful eyes anxiously scouring the room for a particular person. “Mother, what is it?” he asks, concerned at her expression. Suddenly, his mother stiffens when she finds the exact person she is looking for, obvious displeasure painting her features.
Satoru tries to calm his mother down, his voice as soft as a feather’s touch, “Mother…” he trails off.
“You brought her here?” the empress whispers harshly, almost in disbelief that her son would be so insolent enough to do such a thing — by ‘such a thing’, she meant unscrupulously bringing along his Machiavellian Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, who seemed to relish in the attention being gallantly given to her by the many foreign heads of state in the banquet hall.
“And what is she wearing?”
Her face contorts into one of annoyance when she sees Himiko parading around the unmistakable Akoya pearl necklace only to be worn by members of the imperial family on her neck. The empress is not one to use unsavory words even for someone she dislikes with every fiber of her being, but she could not help but liken Himiko to a bitch brandishing a new expensive collar. She swears the sight alone is enough to make her vomit. “Is she a member of the imperial family now, Satoru, what on earth—!”
“She’s not hurting anybody,” Satoru’s eyes narrowed into slits at his mother’s reaction.
“She’s hurting you!” the empress hisses, begging her son to see reason. Satoru has been made well-aware of the fact that keeping Himiko around was not good for his public image, yet, he still insists on fanning the flames that could sooner devour his pipe dream of inheriting his father’s crown.
Satoru glares at his mother, before proceeding to spare his radiant Chief-of-Staff an amused glance, a sense of pride forming in his chest seeing her alluring charm at work as she mingles effortlessly with his father’s guests. He often argues that Himiko is the blueprint of the perfect future consort — she comes from the Zenin political clan that has made Tokyo its political stronghold since the 1970s, she is intelligent in all ways from being fluent in many languages to knowing the law from inside out, charming and charismatic, and most of all, easy on the eyes. A smirk forms on Gojo’s lips when he sees Himiko sharing a laugh with the wife of the Russian ambassador as if to prove his point.
“Let’s just go,” he ignores her pleas, gently pulling his distraught mother away to take their seats next to his father, nonchalantly condoning Himiko’s brazen-faced behavior.
As long as he was around, no one could harm her, not even the empress.
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“Acknowledging the representative correspondent from Nippon News Network, Mr. Nozomi. You may ask your question now,” the floor adjutant says into the microphone.
“Thank you,” Nozomi stands up, momentarily adjusting his press ID. He flips through his leatherbound notebook in search of the query he hastily wrote earlier. “This question is directed to Ms. (Y/N).” A spiteful quiet scoff escapes Satoru’s lips, sending waves of hurt in your chest. What could you possibly contribute to this already awkward conversation? And what did you even know about the imperial system’s traditions?
“Ms. (Y/N), I’d like to know your thoughts on marrying into the imperial family at this delicate time. As you probably know, many of our citizens are questioning the relevance of the imperial system now that our country has embraced democratic values over pro-imperialist ones, thus, leading to the formation of staunch anti-royalists groups. Do you believe that your marriage to Prince Satoru would bring about a positive change to Japan’s current political landscape?”
Your thoughts stutter. “Political…landscape?” you think aloud, and Satoru only smiles/smirks in cold amusement, taking a sip of his sparkling water and eyeing you from his peripheral, seeing you pathetically struggle to conjure up a coherent answer. You haven’t exactly gotten to learn about your duties yet as Gojo’s future wife and a future princess, and he was eager to see how you’ll worm your way out of this one. Of course you neither understood the intricacies of the world you were marrying into nor the unknown minefield you dared tread; most women who throw themselves at Gojo’s feet, kissing the soles of his shoes deplorably begging them to marry him, are like that — naive, unintelligent — he looks at your plain features again and rolls his eyes severely disappointed — and criminally boring to look at in comparison to the standard he has set.
“My apologies, Mr. Nozomi,” a soft smile graces Satoru’s lips when he hears her melodious voice cutting through the awkward tension in the air as you wrack your head for an answer. “But, it seems you’ve caught Ms. (Y/N) off guard there. Perhaps, you have another question that’s a bit…easier to understand? We are, after all, here to bear witness to an engagement, not a political fora.”
Himiko steps forward from her spot next to the member of the Imperial Household Agency who was facilitating this press conference, her dainty hands clasped in front of her in an immaculately proper posture befitting the crown prince’s Chief-of-Staff and his rightful future wife, or so Gojo thought. How he wished it had been her who sat next to him today, with the diamond encrusted engagement ring he reluctantly gave you adorning her ring finger instead. Gojo’s intrusive thoughts swarm in his mind as they tempt him to kiss her in front of all these cameras and single handedly destroy his engagement to you in a single, gut-wrenching blow. But he is quick to stop himself when he remembers his mother’s words earlier this morning.
“This is your last chance, Satoru. This is the last thing I can do to save you, please don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
At any point in time, he would have succumbed to his desire to expose his relationship with his beloved Chief-of-Staff, but this was a pivotal moment that could spell the end for him and his ambitions if he does so much as make a single move that could anger his father. And what’s worse was he might not be able to guarantee Himiko’s safety if that happens. Satoru, therefore, resigns himself to continue holding your hand, albeit reluctantly, his fingers finding the gaps of yours.
The reporter nods at Himiko’s backhanded request.
“My apologies, then,” he ratifies his question to make it more suitable for someone of your caliber. You couldn’t help but shrink into yourself, feeling that you are being patronized by everyone in this room — from your frigid fiancé to his Chief-of-Staff who was severely outclasses you in eloquence, refinement and sophistication and to all the members of the press that had been invited today whose reception to your engagement to the crown prince has been lukewarm at best. “My question then is—“
“—I am sorry for taking too long to answer your question, Mr. Nozomi.” Satoru’s eyes flicker over to yours, taken aback when you speak up. “I, unfortunately, am not yet that familiar with the current situation concerning these said groups, and,” you bite your lip, thinking of what to say next. “I don’t think I’m qualified enough to give an objective opinion on whether my marriage to his Highness will bring about a positive change to our nation.”
Gojo grimly scowls as he watches you make amends with your forthcoming destiny as his future wife, and heaven willing, empress of the nation.
“And I cannot promise that I will lead this country to greatness. I cannot grant laws to uphold and promote justice, I most certainly cannot lead our defense forces to defend our nation, but…”
You think back to why you came here in the first place, your heart pounds violently in your chest as adrenaline rushes through your entire body.
“But I can do this: I can dedicate my entire life to making this country a better place for our people, though, I still do not quite know the way. But I will most certainly do my utmost to try.”
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FLASHBACK: His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala
You don’t know how they do it — standing in front of a multitude of people under the glare of the limelight, about a thousand pairs of eyes trained on you as if at that moment, you stood at the very center of the world without cracking. This was the life they were born into, a life that overflowed with the contrasting worlds of luxury and duty, power and powerlessness, indulgence and deprivation. The women of the imperial family were dressed in the most luxurious of gowns with hundreds of precious stones sewn onto the fabric, and the men wore their dignified navy uniforms. All of the people in the hall have gathered far and wide to bring good tidings to the emperor and his family, bringing gifts of jewels, national treasures, and promises of a stronger alliance with Japan. Yet, something felt off about them — their faces, although trained and poised to smile, were pictures of discomfort.
The white-haired prince you had locked eyes with earlier, the one who watched you intently throughout your performance as you skillfully struck the strings of your shamisen with the bachi producing a sound that resonates deep within the primal past of Japan, stared at you with an unreadable expression as he clapped his hands. You offer him the smallest of smiles to be polite just like you did with the empress earlier when you found her smoking outside the banquet hall, but he does not reciprocate the gesture, his eyes devoid of any warmth unlike his mother. Standing before the crowd of many world leaders and the imperial family, you bow reverently before your public, your shamisen strapped to your body, while your calloused fingers gripped the bachi of the instrument.
The crowd thundered with applause, most of the foreign dignitaries rising to their feet, giving you a standing ovation as you finished your piece. You bow again when the applause continues for another minute or so.
Satoru grimaces when he hears his father whisper to his mother. “Isn’t she amazing?” he marvels at your performance, showering you with more praise for that brief number than he ever gave his son for the majority of his life.
The empress senses Satoru’s growing ire, and nudges her son’s arm, consoling him despite their earlier disagreement about bringing Himiko to the gala. Satoru doesn’t know what to feel. Despite all his shortcomings and his active efforts to build an impenetrable steel wall between them, his mother still does everything in her power to meet him halfway. As his hand reaches to find his mother’s, however, he spots Himiko exiting the hall, stopping mid-way to stare at him with her irresistible fox-like eyes, tempting him to follow her like a siren beckoning an unfortunate sailor to surrender to the abyssal depths.
“Satoru,” his mother says under her breath, holding onto the belief that her son could muster up the willpower to resist Himiko’s whims. The emperor was about to give his courtesy address, and having the crown prince walk out at this moment would be severely inappropriate, not to mention, damaging to his already bad reputation. “Satoru, please.”
His father ascends the steps, each stride evoking a deep sadness and longing in Satoru. Somehow, the crown prince hones in on the clicking of his father’s shoes against the granite floor, the same ones he’d have to fill someday when his father grows weary of their ancestors’ throne. The speech is pretty uneventful with his father going on and on about preserving the peace and harmony of his reign, his so-called Reiwa era, and vowing to continue his public service, which he had begun as a young man in the august of his own father’s reign, until the twilight of his days.
Harmony, Gojo thinks bitterly, a sneer appearing on his face. What did his old man know of such a word when all he’s done, so far, is sow the seeds of discord in his family?
“On that note, I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to all of you, our dear guests and to my fellow fathers and mothers of your own respective nations, who have so kindly come here today to renew our vows of selfless service to our peoples. May we all be imbued with endless wisdom in our pursuit of the greater good.”
The cameras go off like little flashes of lightning spontaneously piercing the dark, moody space of the reception hall.
What a fucking joke, Satoru scoffs into his champagne, the golden liquid staining his throat and holding back words of contempt towards his father. What did his father know of being a father when he had spent his entire life tearing apart his own family in the name of the throne? What did he know of harmony when he had done nothing but sow discord in the imperial house?
The emperor gives a slight nod of acknowledgement to the gracious applause he receives, and promptly makes his way over to his family who are in the process of arranging themselves for an official picture in front of the late Emperor Taisho’s magnum opus, his calligraphy painting that read: 永遠の恵み (Eternal grace) which is the imperial family’s personal motto and central dogma, to commemorate this momentous occasion. Satoru stands next to his father, his breath shallow as if being anywhere near his father could suffocate him.
“I see you’re still acting like the petulant child you are,” his father spat having already spotted Satoru’s little plaything in the crowd earlier tonight, despite the well-rehearsed smile on his face as the official photographer snaps photos in quick succession.
The tongue that Gojo has been holding finally breaks free from the dam that’s been holding the waters of resentment from bursting forth. “And I see you’re still an ass.” Hopefully, the photographers couldn’t hear their tense conversation lest it be the cause of another scandal;, the rumor mill didn’t need any more ammunition for yet another mudslinging campaign against the imperial family.
Oh, but wouldn’t it be interesting if Satoru made a scene to ruin his father’s special day by lewdly kissing his Chief-of-Staff for the entire world to see?
As if sensing her forbidden lover’s thoughts, Himiko saunters over to the official photographer, putting on the air of a devoted servant of the crown prince, ever present within ten feet from her master, when just minutes prior, she acted like she could replace the empress herself.
“You insolent—“ his father grits his teeth at the sight of Satoru’s tramp, absolutely furious.
“Please stop,” the empress spoke under her breath, close to tears. Why is it that whenever their family is together, which is a rare occasion in itself, it always ends in such painful conflict?
“If only we had another son-” the emperor continued his tirade against his only living son, the only legitimate child that he had been blessed with after years of trying to produce an heir with his wife. But there was not a scintilla of anger in his voice; that had long passed when the empress had effectively quelled the fury in his heart with her broken plea, instead there is only longing for things that cannot be.“-if only…Suguru had been our boy, our prince-”
And just like that, something breaks inside Satoru akin to a glass goblet imploding when it hits the floor. It was almost as if his father wished that he had never been born.
…”Fuck this,” the white-haired prince moves to leave, but his mother’s delicate touch catches his arm.
“Satoru, my little light.”
Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat when his mother calls him by his old childhood nickname. Little light. That’s what they wanted him to be since the moment his cerulean eyes first opened as a baby who has been unwillingly burdened with the weight of centuries of tradition on him the minute he was conceived. His name had already been predetermined to mean ‘enlightenment’; everyone wanted him to be a light for the nation, a hope for the people. The imperial family may have been reduced to mere powerless symbols of the constitution, but they are the embodiment of their people’s hopes and dreams for a better Japan. It took twenty years for the emperor and empress to be blessed with their little light, but now, it seems that everything is growing disorientingly dimmer at such an accelerated pace.
But the empress will not just stand by and watch the light get extinguished. “Please don’t do this, we need you.”
Of course he always craved to be beloved by the people, to become their bonafide and benevolent prince. It had always been his dream to inherit his father’s crown, to fill the impossibly large shoes of his ancestors. But, what is truly his dream or was this a dream unjustly forced onto him?
The wind howls more violently and the final flicker of the imperial family’s light loses the battle, as the candle that had first been set alight by their forebears is now reduced to a pool of wax. Satoru’s eyebrows furrow, utterly spent from all of this, and yanks back his arm from his mother’s grasp.
“You need your prince…but when will you ever need your son?”
And with that, he leaves, his free hand ripping off the Medal of the Order of the Chrysanthemum once he is a good distance away from the gala’s venue. Himiko stays behind for a few minutes to make sure that she isn’t giving off the impression of being so eager to follow the prince and condone his tantrum. Instead, she stares directly at the empress, emerald and sapphire clashing violently with one another, as she wordlessly celebrates her victory.
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Mr. Nozomi, though known by his colleagues to be a no-nonsense kind of man, seems satisfied with your answer. It lacked some academic background, but it was a statement that was sure to bring comfort to the people. “Thank you, Ms. (Y/N). This is comforting to know,” the stout man with graying hair offers you a reassuring smile. It had been so long since many people, particularly and most especially in his age group, had ever had the honor of seeing such a warm-hearted future monarch whose words could almost easily calm others, and he dare say, even the violent Sea of Japan whose fury has long been felt in his freezing hometown of Hokkaido since time immemorial.
Satoru forces a smile at that, literally grinning and bearing it — by ‘it’, he meant your little display to outshine him, your future husband, the Crown.
“Any more questions?” the imperial house’s official speaker calls out as the room is filled with the sound of pen tips scratching on paper as the members of the press write down notes. This was going to be the wedding of the century, and they’d be damned if they couldn’t make a good story out of it. “None?”
“Actually, I have one.” Himiko gives the microphone to the correspondent from The Tokyo Times, the most reputable newspaper in the country. “I hope that this question doesn’t offend His Royal Highness, but if you may indulge me for a bit, don't you think the timing of this wedding is too sudden? I mean,” she clears her throat momentarily. “His Highness had only recently been allowed to appear before the public after he got arrested the other week, and now, he’s getting married.”
Just when you thought that the brutal questions would start to mellow out, one of the more hardened reporters all but crushes your remaining hope of this press conference ending on a good note.
All color drains from your face at that question. It was, indeed, warranted. If you had seen all this unfold before your very eyes, during your time as a commoner, the whole marriage would appear rushed, not to mention, fishy especially after the many Lesé-Majesté that had victimized the imperial family lately due to Gojo’s recent and very frequent scandals.
You look at your fiancé, heart pounding in your chest. What were you supposed to say to that? It’s not like you could be downright blunt about the whole reason why you’re getting married in the first place, that would only paint your soon-to-be husband’s family in a worse light; right now, people only challenge the relevance of the imperial family in a free democracy like Japan, you really don’t want to reach that point of no return when they start to despise the very notion of paying taxes to an institution that they feel is morally ambiguous.
Not to mention, such sentiment could put you and your fiancé in danger.
Satoru takes a deep breath through his nose, desperately calming himself before he says anything damning. How he wished he could have this petulant woman dragged out of there for such an offensive question but that would only prove her point.
Fortunately, Satoru is well-prepared for this, no matter how irritating his current predicament is. Having to be reminded of the greatest source of his humiliation is infuriating, but it could also provide him with the perfect opportunity to rewrite his public image and regain his footing in the act of succession currently being drafted by His Majesty, the Emperor.
All of a sudden, he rises to his full height, his hand not letting go of the sleeve of your white wool coat as he does. He casts you a disgusted look, seeing the expensive fabric hug your form; how is it even possible that you were wearing a high class outfit and still look like a cheap imitation of all the women he’s been with? He couldn’t begin to compare you to Himiko whose fashion sense and overall aura outshined yours; it would be like comparing rust to the Hope Diamond.
“Satoru, what are you doing?”
“Just follow my lead and drop that stupidly lost face you make all the time,” he hisses into your ear. “Now, stand up,” he commands, pretending to help you to your feet like the head-over-heels-in-love fiancé he’s meant to be and not the stone cold man whose last name will be the heaviest burden you’ll have to carry for the rest of your life. Well, by your life, you meant the snake pit that you now found yourself in with a fiancé who wishes you to fade from the fabric of existence and the prying eyes of the world keenly watching the drama that is yours and Satoru’s impending marriage.
Satoru smooths out any wrinkles on your dress before turning to the cameras. Gasps fill the room at what he does next. “Y-your Highness?” a journalist puts a hand over her mouth at the sight of the crown prince’s display of humble contrition: a bow, a plea for the forgiveness of his people. Following his lead, you also bow, your palms pressed against your thighs.
“I am sorry,” his tenor rings clear like the ringing of a shinto shrine’s suzu when a pilgrim first sets foot on the hallowed grounds of the temple. “As your prince, I understand that I have failed my family, His Imperial Majesty, the emperor, and Her Royal Highness, the empress. I have, in my recklessness, failed my ancestors, and the throne itself. But most of all, I, through my reckless actions, have failed each and every one of you who are probably watching this.”
Sincerity oozes out from each word, and you wonder, does Gojo actually mean any of this? Or was this another one of his well-rehearsed theatrics? And if this, his first public apology for all the atrocious things he’s done, is all conjured from the distorted playwright that is Prince Satoru Gojo, then, you could only pray that he takes pity on you and does not make an actress out of you.
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FLASHBACK: The Imperial Palace of Tokyo (An hour after His Majesty’s Silver Jubilee Gala)
Satoru painfully eyes his mother who earlier tonight had cruelly given him the false hope that she would always advocate for him only to avert her gaze, screwing her eyes shut as if by doing so — all of this — all the undue hurt that her son had caused the family would magically go away. “Mother.” Is she even qualified to still be called that when she has proved tonight that she would abandon her son in his time of need without a moment’s hesitation?
What his father says next is so hypocritical that it makes even hardened criminals look more honest and self-aware than him. “Don’t use that tone on her, don’t even dare.”
Satoru scoffs angrily, he can’t believe this. “I didn’t know you’ve recently decided to be a devoted husband now,” he snarls but his father doesn’t budge, he was not going to entertain his foolish son’s tantrums today. The emperor only pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, desperately seeking out the reason he has been dealt the unfortunate hand of having such a heathenous son.
“I don’t even know what to say.” What can be said when face to face with such a vile predicament? Normally, his disagreements with Satoru would be tempered by his wife’s intervention, pleading with him to spare the heir to the throne of unforgiving punishments that brewed within a wrathful father’s mind; the last time was Satoru’s humiliating suspension from his public duties and the instance before that, a severe cut in his monthly salary as a public official funded personally by the people he blatantly betrays in his acts of wanton avarice. The difference between those times and this unfortunate situation is that in the past, one could still detect some semblance of remorse in Satoru’s demeanor.
All that is gone now. If one were to compare Satoru to a criminal, he is already a hardened one, desensitized to his wrongdoings.
The steel handcuffs which hugged the skin of Satoru’s wrists prove that, at this point in time, the heir to throne’s character was in serious jeopardy. “Your Majesty, you can reprimand your son however you’d like, but, please do not have him chained up like some animal.” She knows such a request is wrong. Like a dog released from a painful muzzle, Satoru would only grow more rabid with his actions. In the past, he was fueled by a desire for attention, now, after this night, he would be fueled by spite.
Other than the imperial family, three police officers who came from the Kabukichō district where Satoru had been reported to be physically assaulting a fellow gambler when a high stakes poker game had turned in favor of his opponent are in the room, witnessing all this happen with bated breath. It took at least five officers to pry Satoru off the bloodied middle aged man who had a foot in his grave by the time the crown prince was done obliterating his face, and another five to escort him into the police mobile.
All of this transpired on the night of the silver jubilee gala. Mere hours after Satoru took off.
A horrified silence had befallen the entire banquet hall when the news broke out, immediately going viral on every social media platform.
The emperor contemplates his wife’s words for but a passing moment when he decides otherwise, turning to the men in blue, his voice is authoritative and could make any devil tremble in their boots. “Thank you for reprimanding my son,” he sighs. “I can assure you that—“
The Tokyo metropolitan police officers alongside the imperial police await the decision of the emperor, but have already begun to pull out the keys to Satoru’s handcuffs thinking that His Majesty would have him released.
“—All charges pressed against Satoru Gojo will proceed accordingly and—“
And for once in his life, Satoru feels the unmistakable emotion — terror. “—What?” Satoru is livid at this point. “Father!”
He merely ignores Satoru, his eyes trained at the shocked faces of the many officers whose feet are still planted to the ground.
“—And that I will be allowing all concerned members of all law enforcement units who responded tonight to take him into custody until the date of his full criminal trial should any take place. As such, I now declare Satoru Gojo’s claim to the throne as null and void, and his title of crown prince forfeited in favor of his brother, Suguru Geto—“
It was at this time that Himiko once again barges in just as Satoru is being led away, surprisingly, she was now wearing her usual uniform of a black suit and pencil skirt. She immediately throws herself at the feet of the emperor. Where was the bravado she so proudly displayed at the jubilee gala by indirectly confronting the empress? Gone. Where were the pearls she had practically worn without authorization of the people who were permitted to wear them? Now replaced with her fake 12-karat gold necklace that she wore since childhood. “Your Majesty,” she kneels before him like her pleas would reach the emperor’s stony heart. “Please don’t do this—“
The emperor and empress angrily turn towards her, their eyes ablaze. What was she doing here? “I have half a mind to have you arrested too, Ms. Zenin!” the emperor growls. Himiko was there at the scene of the crime, after all, and having her arrested would greatly destabilize the hold she possessed on the imperial family through her illicit affair with the crown prince. “Now, drop it!” the emperor yells at the sputtering girl. “I have allowed you to lead my son astray for too long and now it is time for me, his father, to discipline him, unless, of course…you’re willing to take his punishment for him.”
“Yes,” Himiko nods frantically. “Please do whatever you want with me, I-I will gladly accept it all.”
“No!” Satoru resists against the officers, as the imperial guards begin to restrain Himiko who makes a pained sound when she, too, is given handcuffs of her own. “Don’t hurt her! Please don’t hurt her!” It was the plea of a being in love, seeing his lover take all his father’s bullets. “Father! I’m begging you—!”
“—And how long have you made the empress and I beg for you to straighten out your life?!”
“—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Satoru was exhibiting signs of mental distress at this point, his eyes brimming with tears like he were a child who had been told he was grounded. “Your Majesty,” he reverts to calling his father by his official title. “Please…please. Just let her go.”
How incredibly touching: two sworn lovers protecting one another to the bitter end, selflessly taking the fall for the other, shielding their beloved from any danger that might befall them. Only problem is…this toxic partnership between a prince whose life’s purpose is to stupidly follow his heart with gross disregard for those around him and a woman whose negative influence is demolishing her beloved’s reputation.
While the country is reeling from an economic recession, here Satoru and Himiko were indulging in yacht trips, while the impoverished scrounge for food in Tokyo’s many landfills, the crown prince and his girlfriend attended lavish state banquets left and right, while the homeless sleep under a resin-roofed bus stop at the height of winter, Satoru gifts countless of properties to Himiko as if one home couldn’t possibly be enough for the woman he so desperately loves.
“Satoru,” Himiko sniffles as she is slowly taken away, defiantly calling him by his name rather than his official title in front of Their Majesties. As if by doing so, that would help hers and Satoru’s case.
Gojo shakes his head furiously, his eyes welling up with tears. “Mother, please don’t do this.”
If this was going to be the end of them, then, Satoru hoped that his family would, at least, allow Himiko to return to being a private citizen, to walk away from all of this a free woman, free to live out the rest of her life away from the schadenfreude of the imperial court. Even if it meant never having to see her again, feel her warm touch against his skin the same way the sun bathes the earth in its resplendent glow, kiss her with the passion of someone who could have been a devoted husband to her had they been born in different circumstances, he will do anything. He would count the very stars in the sky if he could, die a thousand deaths if he must, if it meant allowing Himiko to be spared the pain of being branded as a criminal and placed behind bars.
“I’ll do anything, please just don’t hurt the woman I love.”
If only Satoru put more effort into earning the love of his people the same way he’s now willing to humbly bow his head to cossett the love of his life. Akiko Gojo gasps quietly when her prideful son falls to his knees in supplication. Suddenly, she is filled with memories of a younger Satoru who was once chastised by his courtiers for tripping on his own feet while he frolicked and played in the palace gardens, and how she didn’t think twice to comfortingly lift him into her arms while his retainer had been so content leaving him on the ground, his scraped knee ailing him as he struggled to stand up.
The empress’s feet seemed to have been possessed by a mind of their own, as she took one step forward, her sorrowful eyes trained on her crying son. “Satoru,” she gently crouches down next to him. “Oh, my little light,” she calls him by his childhood nickname. “Please don’t cry,” she weeps as she wipes his tears away with her thumbs. She shouldn’t be doing this, knowing that Satoru would only take advantage of the knowledge that she’s always going to be there for him regardless of what he does and what monster he becomes.
But seeing her child, her only boy, in the thralls of desolation is too much for her frail heart. So, she makes the choice for him, standing firm before her husband who has always taken the lead in their marriage. “Your Majesty, I beg you to not make a criminal out of Satoru, and reconsider restoring him to the succession. Please have mercy on your son.” His only legitimate heir. If Suguru were to inherit the throne, it would only throw their family into more chaos, and with the events of tonight, the imperial house could benefit from letting Satoru’s recent mishap die quietly. It would be disastrous for everyone if, on the anniversary of his father’s coronation, Satoru were to be unceremoniously thrown out of the palace.
“Akiko,” the emperor involuntarily utters his wife’s name, surprised at her sudden decision to stand up for their degenerate son.
From the moment the 2.3 pound Meiji tiara first touched her head, she relinquished all sense of self to the crown — her surname, her childish desires to lead a normal life, her civilian antics, everything — but now, here she stood before him, not as Empress Akiko but the liberal-minded woman that the emperor fell in love with as a young man. She may have given up everything to forge herself anew as empress of the country, but there is one thing that she has kept under lock and key so that the crown may never hope to steal it from her: her unconditional love for her son.
“Your Majesty,” she glances at Satoru’s kneeling form, her heart clenching in her chest. I’m sorry, my little light, she silently apologizes to her son, the last thing she wants is to seek the impossible from him, but if this was the only way that his future will be secured, then, she’ll just have to be the awful mother that Gojo thinks her to be. “I have a proposition for you.”
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A journalist looks up from his laptop, dumbfounded at what he’s witnessing. “…No way,” he says under his breath. It wasn’t everyday you see a monarch bow before his people begging to be pardoned, but then again, no other monarch in the world is more problematic than Satoru Gojo.
Satoru clutches the fabric of his slacks, his knuckles turning white as he does so. This was so humiliating for him, having to apologize to mere nobodies whose existence wouldn’t even make it to the footnotes of history books to be written a hundred years from now. “I know my words mean nothing after everything I’ve done and the people I hurt, but still, I am sorry,” Satoru utters the apology again as if by saying it a second time, it would hasten his godforsaken sentence that is to be locked in a vile marriage with you.
He’s made it clear earlier by his gestures that he wants nothing to do with you, but perhaps that was only because you hardly know one another, you don’t exactly run in the same circle as him, you don’t have the slightest connection to any political dynasty — not by affiliation, and most certainly not by blood — nor were you some heiress to some long standing conglomerate that the imperial family is closely acquainted with. Perhaps it was just that. All of this animosity stems from the disturbing fact that you couldn’t even call yourself friends now here you were betrothed to one another announcing your engagement to the world.
But, something doesn’t feel right.
Shouldn’t awkwardness between you and Satoru be the worst thing that could come from this shotgun arrangement? You understand that this situation is uncomfortable for him as much as it is terrifying for you but is this truly enough to warrant his hatred? It’s not like you actively volunteered for the part, after all, yet he acts as if you had been the prime instigator of this marriage. You find yourself caught between wanting to keep him at arms’ length to advocate for tense but peaceful silence in your marriage and wanting to become his true and altruistic wife to get to know him better but at the expense of your emotional well-being knowing that he’ll probably hurl new insults at you.
At this point, the former seems to be the safest option, but there is something so deeply intriguing and captivating in Satoru that you ignore all the warning signs altogether.
Satoru ends the press conference by re-announcing the date of the wedding which will take place next week. You follow him out of the hall, meekly walking three steps behind him. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks, burying his hands in his pocket, adopting a more casual posture. You expect him to berate you for some unknown faux pas you’ve committed during the press conference but instead, you are met with something else. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He turns around to face you, he doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look too invested in the conversation either. He just seemed indifferent. His eyes dart around the expanse of the corridor, someone could be listening in to this conversation — the palace has eyes and ears everywhere after all — he needs to temper his tongue lest he angers the emperor or the empress, despite every nerve in his body tempting him to spew more vitriol at you.
Waving a dismissive hand, you shake your head, instantly forgiving him earlier. “No, I must have overstepped my boundaries, I understand and I’m sorry.”
Gojo sighs heavily, offering you a small nod. “Let’s just forget about it,” he says. “It’s getting late,” he notes the time on his watch. “You should probably head home to rest.” That was…surprisingly kind of him.
“A-actually,” you unconsciously play with your engagement ring. “I wanted to ask if you were free tonight so we could…have dinner together.” The empress encouraged the both of you to get to know each other, after all. “I know it must be difficult being engaged to me when you don’t even know me.”
Satoru lets out a weak laugh. He wasn’t at all interested in getting to know you, frankly, he couldn’t give two shits, but it was amusing for him to see how delusional you are.
“I see,” he notes in a business-like manner. “Well, perhaps another time since I have an urgent appointment tonight and I’m already running late.” You can’t even pretend to not be disappointed when you’ve already taken the liberty of reserving seats for the two of you at a nearby restaurant you frequently visit. He plants a parting kiss on your cheek, but something about it feels so detached and hollow, but who were you to expect more when he didn’t harbor an ounce of affection for you? You nod against the kiss, curtsying as he walks away.
“What a day.” You discard the many hair pins that neatly gathered your hair into a half-updo, grimacing at the stickiness of your locks from the copious amount of hairspray that had been applied to it. Sighing, you get into your car, removing the standard four inch pumps you’ve been instructed to wear, as per the dress protocol set by the Imperial Household Agency for female members of the imperial family when they attend public events, in favor of your more laidback ballet flats.
As you drive out of the main compound of the palace, you are surprised to see Satoru, accompanied by what looks like eight bodyguards, hastily making his way to the official car used by the emperor. He waits as his chauffeur brings the car around, but for some reason, he does not look impatient for someone who is supposedly running late for an urgent appointment, he is leisurely tapping away on his phone. Suddenly, something catches you off guard. A boyish grin appears on Satoru’s face when he is approached by a figure that looks like a woman.
An awfully familiar one.
You don’t know if it must be the heat from your car’s air conditioning unit but — you feel your heart in your throat, no, to be accurate, you feel like you’ve been winded by a punch to the gut — you understand why she would be with him given her position and all, but why was Satoru draping his suit over his Chief-of-Staff’s narrow shoulders?
And…why is she kissing your fiancé’s cheek?
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water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @strawberryjimin13 @mat71201 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jjuniescuderia
758 notes · View notes
mellowwillowy · 7 months
Text
Yan! Emperor x GN Empress! Reader
CW: General Yandere warnings. Another warning on the second cut.
"𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒓."
Yan! Emperor who schemed against the Empress to have her resigned from her position or even better, executed. He wouldn't want this wench to take the position of his love after all.
Yan! Emperor who secured your position as the next Empress. Hm? It didn't matter what your gender was. Whether you were a woman or a man or neither, for as long as you kept up with the facade, no one would ever notice it.
Yan! Emperor who secured a place for you in the palace, he would never allow anyone to drive you out of it even if it was the Empress or his puppeteers.
Yan! Emperor whose love was only reserved for you and you. The image of you on his bed embracing his tired body would always live in his head rent-free.
Yan! Emperor who felt the need to protect you despite your capabilities of protecting yourself. The two of you may be strong but he knew well the two of you were the exact contrasity of each other. He was the Sin while you were the Virtue itself.
Yan! Emperor who would not hesitate to drag the people who insulted or even caused the slightest inconvenience toward you by their broken and twisted limbs.
Yan! Emperor who secretly worshipped you as though you were his God all along. He couldn't care less about the God his puppeteer worshipped.
Yan! Emperor who knew you hated how both of your lives were controlled like a puppet. But even so, he knew you hated how he had to use force to break free from the strings they used to tug on the two of you.
Yan! Emperor who devised a plan to break free of himself first before saving you. Killing every one of the higher-ups who were using him as a puppet figuratively and literally.
"Then do pray forgive but my dear, what would be left of me, of us, if I didn't kill them all?"
Yan! Emperor who knew you had always been trying to break free from their grasp in a virtuous way, you had always been so naive... no matter how red your armories were painted, that little head of yours had always been so naive.
Yan! Emperor who started to cut the strings that were controlling you one by one so that it wasn't that noticeable that he was involved in this. He knew you'd be devastated if you knew they were all killed just to free you.
Yan! Emperor who started to frame the Empress, forging pieces of evidence and crimes that were all pointed to her neck. It took a lot of time and preparation but he was a patient man. A price to pay to have you sitting next to him on the throne.
Yan! Emperor who stole your journal that detailed all the wrongdoings of everyone in the imperial palace. This way, you wouldn't question the credibility of the accusations thrown at them. Ah, where did you put your diary again?
Yan! Emperor who couldn't wait to fit all the missing puzzles into place, executing all his plans into motion while watching everyone fall from their haven. When the Empress had finally lost all her backing and support, he decided to strike her down with a final hit.
Yan! Emperor who made you watch everything unravel from the front row, how rain fell as the Empress cursed him and you while the guards held her in place.
"YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME FATE AS I DO, UWAAAAAAAAAAHHH"
Yan! Emperor who watched how your grip on the umbrella tightened, tears wetting your cheek along with the raindrops.
"It's finally over, my dearest."
Yan! Emperor who held no remorse for the deceased as he viewed them as nothing but hindrances to the both of you.
"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."
Yan! Emperor who immediately discharged you from your position as the Grand General and made you his Empress shortly after the mourning phase had passed. The mourning phase was nothing but a joke to him as his body collided with yours, spending his nights with you.
Yan! Emperor who courted you with a show of him displaying his archery skills, piercing all pearls that were thrown at him down. It somehow reminded him how he annihilated everyone that came in his and your way.
Yan! Emperor who was really mad in love with you, someone who suffered the same fate as he did and yet remained true to self, pristine virtue and beaming in radiance. You were the light of his life despite how your white garment slowly reddened into prosperous red adorning your body. You were the Empress and you had to behave like one, strong-willed and swiftly adapt to all the scheming people in the Imperial Palace.
Yan! Emperor who was your first backing and support, right?
Yan! Emperor who loved you and only you. Forever. For eternity.
CW: Yan! Emperor against Reader (because he wanted Reader to be his lover), Reader's death. Angst no comfort (comfort came in the next lives lmfao), Yan! Emperor avenged your death though (mass slaughter of nation)...
Yan! Emperor who was not pleased with how strong-willed you were as an Empress. As much as he respected you as a former Grand General and an Empress, he did not wish for you to not express any kind of romance sparks anymore.
Yan! Emperor who hated how virtuous you were to the point it slowed down the supposed plan. From then on, the Imperial Palace was divided into two sides, your side and his side. Did he finally stop supporting you, you wondered.
Yan! Emperor who knew what you two had gone through and that you were only being considerate to those who were suffering as well. Nonetheless, he also knew what you suggested was also filled in loopholes.
Yan! Emperor who saw you took in someone under your wing, a girl who was brimming with innocence and curiosity, a reminder to him of how you used to be before you were slowly corrupted.
"It seems like they took her in because it reminded them of themselves as well."
Yan! Emperor who watched how you cared for the girl and protected her from anything that would trouble her. As much as he knew how platonic it was, it was undeniable that he was jealous of the attention that girl received.
Yan! Emperor who noticed how things started to crumble down between you and that girl sooner than you did. He noticed how her eyes were now purely brimming in Envy, green matching her eye colors.
Yan! Emperor who knew she wanted what you had. Honor, strength, intelligence, willpower, and spouse. He knew it and he used that against you.
"If only they are no longer the Empress..." He whispered into the girl's ear, "You would be the next Empress..."
Yan! Emperor who despised the idea of people thinking he really loved his current concubine, she was nothing but a pawn to him. Holding her hand alone made him frown in disgust. He wanted to hold you again and not some make-believe of you.
Yan! Emperor who watched everything by the sideline, how that girl started to consume everything you had, honor, support, intelligence but never his heart.
Yan! Emperor who witnessed everything going well just like his plans until it didn't. His heart was sunken.
"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."
Yan! Emperor who was only away for a month was informed about your death. The overthrow did not go as he expected. It was supposed to only have you exiled but not killed!
Yan! Emperor who went furious immediately, leaving the province he was in to ensure everything was false news. His horse galloped as though it was burnt alive by him, he did not stop despite the hunger and cold he had to face. YOU were his priority.
Yan! Emperor who saw the whole imperial palace was adorned in red instead of white. So it was only false news, right?
"Hao Yuchen, the traitor had finally been overthrown."
Yan! Emperor whose body failed to stand, his mind racing in horror of what he had done. Instead of surrendering to her mercy, you remained persistent as you had always been, charging toward her men instead of her despite your wounded body. The ending was clear, you died due to your wounds and lack of blood.
Yan! Emperor whose golden eyes finally lost its reflection of light, what swirled in it was only grudge and guilt.
Yan! Emperor who wished he could somehow just strangle the girl and himself to death now. That way, he might be able to meet you in Heaven right?
Yan! Emperor who knew he was bound to be sent to hell. He had committed sins in his whole life and was ready to repent for it to meet you in Heaven up there.
"But what if I ascended as a God instead?"
Yan! Emperor who had no choice but to make her the next Empress, rumors circulating around the Imperial Palace as two Empress had been overthrown. Will this girl be overthrown as well?
Yan! Emperor who wondered to himself, would you be angry if he drove this girl who you protected in your last stand to death? If so, he was ready to feel your fury, in fact, he wished he could feel anything from you.
Yan! Emperor who despised the girl that copied everything you did, he loathed the red that was once adorned your body worn by her now.
Yan! Emperor who was a patient man. A price to pay to have her body floating lifeless on a river. Yes, she would be disposed of the moment he deemed her useless to the nation.
Yan! Emperor who tricked her into drinking the poison instead of the elixir of immortality, letting her body fall into the river as her eyes never left the moon.
"... The moon looks beautiful just like them..."
Yan! Emperor who had always been jealous of the girl. He knew she adored you and yet her way of viewing things was distorted into something disturbing.
But who was he to speak like that when he himself was also at fault?
Yan! Emperor who sat by the porch, gazing into the moon while reminiscing the memories he shared with you before drinking the elixir of immortality.
Yan! Emperor who knew there were only 2 people left in the Imperial Palace, him and a nameless young man.
Yan! Emperor who let the young general cut him open with his sword, feeling a little of the pain of what you felt back then. The general pulled out a bottle of concoction from his sleeve,
"This is the real elixir of immortality." He spat as he drank the elixir.
Yan! Emperor who did not shut his eyes close, his eyes never left the moon above him. Were you residing on the moon as a rabbit? Or were you flying freely like a crane?
In the Imperial Palace, the Emperor lay lifeless on the porch, his golden eyes were dead but they never left the moon above him.
"I will... forever... hold you dearly... in my heart..."
To find you again, to see you again, to hold you again.
Even if it took millenniums... even if it meant I had to destroy your life again...
In the river, the girl's body floated lifeless as her eyes never left the moon.
In the forest, the boy's body lay lifeless as butterflies and flowers surrounded him, his eyes never left the moon.
ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:
The second cut wasn't really necessary to be read but here's a summary. (The fic up there was packed into summary as well but it left lots of confusion and details out so it sounds OFF)
Hao Yuchen - Emperor
Ying Zili - Girl
Ying Qingyuan - Nameless Young Man
Reader's whereabouts remained unknown. (Nb: reader will appear as a crane next time.)
After the reader's death, the Emperor starts to plan the Empress' downfall, tricking her into making the wrong moves and framing her. The Empress was depicted as committing suicide out of the pressure of mistakes she had committed while the truth is that she was tricked into drinking the poison she thought as an elixir of immortality.
The Nameless Young Man was suspected to be either Reader or Empress' underling.
The whole nation was slaughtered by the Emperor which indirectly made him ascend as a God instead.
Empress and Nameless Young Man also ascended as Gods as well. Ps: in the original lore, the Emperor's ego was hurt so he tried to strike down the Empress and turned them into his lover.
Bonus ; Crack
752 notes · View notes
controld3vil · 4 months
Text
black cat
pairing(s): kenshi, johnny, havik, kuai liang/scorpion x gn!reader (seperate) synopsis: you’re a thief — a riff raff amongst the scum of seido. yet somehow you’re on the wrong side of justice, serving outworld. notes: - out of my volition, this was inspired by batman and cat woman’s cute dynamic <3 - LIKE REMBER THAT SCENE… where selina touches bruce’s face ?!?! (from batman 2022!!)
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KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> There were many things Kenshi expected from his visit to the Outworld. Meeting you was not one of them. From your first encounter, you captured his attention — as subtle and graceful as a feline, he would say, your presence startled him and the rest of his friends. “General Shao, how unwise of you to berate our guests at first notice!” Your lively manner relieves the suspense between Outworld’s militaria and Earthrealm’s protector. He could discern the disturbance from the man in question as General Shao crudely sneered. Liu Kang clears his throat and gives you a content nod. You are fast — he thinks, always swift to leeway into conversations that have gone bitter. Kenshi does not recall mention of you - but it didn't matter.
-> “This is none of your concern, ambassador,” Shao’s words were only meant for disdain and spite. You modestly give a lazy smile — like a Cheshire, not taking his insult seriously. “Oh, but my duties are to accompany Liu Kang’s champions. The Empress demands it.” Your indulgence prevails when the general fails to make another quip. In the crowd, Kenshi is impressed by your way of words. You were an intriguing person – he will give you that. But you did not seem a person particularly invested in politics. You were apathetic to your job. -> At dinner, you conveniently visit his table with a wine glass. Liu Kang seemingly welcomes you, taking the seat across from the swordsman. Conversations were comfortable with you. As a diplomatic envoy, you’re surprisingly judgemental - and not afraid to communicate the demands of other cities. Glimpses from the princesses as you proceed with a story about the rulers of Sun Do. Infuriating it was to comply with their city’s needs like a glorified servant. Kitana is quick to pick on your drunken pursuit and drag you to your quarters. By the time you left, Kenshi felt enamored by you and your stories. “They're quite the character.”   -> There were rumors about you he could not ignore. Everywhere in the palace were snakes, more willing to let him know of your past. They say you were once a thief, a lowly criminal in the capital. How you came to become the royal ambassador was appalling to others at court. You were born into the lowest class. And here in Edenia, it was deemed as dishonorable. You did not grow up with the same education or environmental conditions. It makes Kenshi question your motives for coming here. How did you end up at this high establishment? It was not from pity - he knew from that. Maybe you were a strong fighter. Who was stubborn and willing to do anything to achieve your goals.  -> Unbeknownst, as his interest in you escalated, you took notice of him. The swordsman with an unfortunate past, you held compassion for Kenshi. And as your relationship bloomed, your respect for each other was apparent. You both worked harmoniously together well. In unison with your devious yet insightful strategies and his keen and precise swordsmanship. You taught Kenshi the ins and outs of the city. Tried to teach him how to steal and work up to the market sellers to bid lower prices. You always kept him on his toes. And Kenshi loved that about you. To you, the ex-yakuza held you in check – of your duties. Although he enjoys your time fooling around together, it would put the swordsman much at ease if you took your job seriously. With the realm's tense position, he urges you to take control and compromise with the other cities for the coming battle. And hopefully, when the war is over, the two of you will reconcile your relationship and make it official. [ kenshi ]: how can i convince you to stop stealing? [ you ]: have you ever thought about asking nicely?
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JOHNNY CAGE -> He’s the one to catch you first. Johnny had clear suspicions of you during the first night of the tournament. When you spoke with officials and the royal family, it was too noticeable to miss. You were hiding something - Johnny wanted to get to the bottom of it. He finds your kindness to the princesses overbearing. Because why would a constable be affiliated with the royal family more than themselves? And the movie star had to open his mouth at dinner, eyeing you down with an arched brow. -> “Uh Liu Kang, I don’t mean to be rude but,” Both your eyes make contact – he quickly reverts his view to the god in question, “I think that person’s kinda shady, don’t you think?” His remark makes the rest of the Earth’s champions freeze, and the tightness of the air becomes far too evident. Liu Kang pauses, setting his teacup down, and looks to where you stand. From the far corner, you were chatting with Li Mei, arms crossed. You were enjoying your discussion until you sensed Liu Kang’s stare to tilt your head and give a playful wave. The First Constable thought nothing of your actions, how accustomed she is to how you acted around Earthrealmers, always telling them outlandish lies about Outworld. And constantly pretending to commit some heinous crime against the royal family. Something you would never do. -> “Fear not, Johnny Cage. They are no threat.” The Fire God’s words relieved the tension in the air. As everyone’s shoulders relax, Johnny probes on. He knows what trouble looks like – his mother was a cop! However, Kenshi waves his bickering off and waves them off as dull excuses. Nothing to worry about? You could be doing something behind the Empress and Constable's back. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself that got his attention. Or the comments his mentor sarcastically made about the dangers of Outworld. It was unlike Johnny to feel this paranoid. He had to figure out who you were. -> The movie star believed that once he caught you in an act, it would prove to his friends and Liu Kang that he was right about you. When he, Kung Lao, and Kenshi snuck into Shang Tsung's laboratory, surprisingly not, you were there alongside Rain, Tanya, and Princess Mileana on a medical chair. Just when Shang Tsung slowly approached the princess with a syringe with Tarkart's blood, they attacked. The movie star willingly stepped in your direction as if he caught you red-handed. “I knew it! You were behind all of this!” -> Everything turned bitter when Kenshi lost his eyesight to Mileana’s outbreak. It leaves a foul taste in Johnny's mouth once the situation is to be the treatment for the princess’s prolonged illness. When the royal guards come, you turn to face the Earthrealmers. “Did you truly think I would go against the royal family?” There was a flash of fury to scorn. “You Earthrealmers know nothing about Outworld business.” Johnny could only accept his wrongdoings, face facing down to the floor in shame and guilt. While what Liu Kang suspected of Shang Tsung was true – his assumptions of you weren’t. And for that, the movie star genuinely feels like he has misjudged you entirely. -> It takes time for him to reconcile with you. Escaping from Shang Tsung’s laboratory with his friends, he doesn’t meet you again. But when Earthrealm compromises with Outworld, you reappear alongside Li Mei and the royal family. In a different light, you’re easy on the eyes. Johnny desperately tries to make it up to you, always finding ways to warm up to your bitterness. Though much like a cat, you’re persistent and glares in his direction. Soon after, he learns of your past and is suddenly guilt-ridden even more.
-> Your relationship is a slow and rocky one. The two of you did not see eye to eye at the start. Johnny was wary of you, and you only made it worse by indulging in it. You two were at odds with each other. However, Johnny was somehow smitten with you. You were cunning and sly in all the ways a constable shouldn’t be. It was one of the ways he got your attention – suggesting all kinds of schemes against his friends. Your past never bothered him. Stead, it’s something he’s proud of you for. “I mean, thief turned cop? Now that’s a story I can get behind.” It brings a sort of middle ground and closure to both of you. [  johnny ]: look i know i misjudged you pretty harshly, how can i make it up to you? [ you ]: you can start by loaning me some money.
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HAVIK -> He longs for you. Havik is too cruel and adamant to tell you, but he misses you. Many years before you left Seido, you were happily thriving as a criminal. He recalls his younger years, you and him pillaging villages. Stealing all you can to survive in the cruel world they decided to reject you from. Back then, you were free – out of touch with humanity and the rest of the Outworld. You didn’t care for his plans to run Seido to the ground and bring chaos. You didn’t understand it – you were merely teenagers, children. -> Before long, you slipped out of Havik's hand. The life you two endured was not living. Every day, you struggle to find food and shelter to stay by. It did not help for your kleptomaniac habits, mugging passing citizens of whatever they had on. Eventually, it had caught up to you, Havik deciphers. Because why else would you leave him? Unlike him, you left clues for the military to track you. You loved the thrill of leading them to nowhere. -> But now, the thought of you brings turmoil into his heart. He sees you in the distance when Quan Chi is interrupted by a former ally. There you were, he stands almost in shock and petrification. Havik was furious. All he could focus on was the plan to allow time to release Quan Chi’s creation, Ermac. He never considered where you would be until now that you were on the opposite side of justice. Why? -> “How could you,” Your name runs down his tongue like a pack of needles. It’s difficult to pronounce your name after many years of separation. Whatever he felt for you was long diminished in the fire he created when he left Seido. “After so many years, this was where you were.” He didn’t expect less from you when you curtly accepted his words. Yes, you said – it’s so bitter against him. What happened to you? When did you become so weak against the hierarchy? Where were you when he set ablaze to the city and joined forces with Darius? -> “What we had would have never worked,” You say this truthfully, getting into a defensive position. It hurts - how easily you dismiss it. Havik never thought of himself as a sentimental man – but the thought of you returning to him was a constant in his mind. From days to years to his study of sorcery and alliance with Quan Chi, Havik has destroyed more cities than he can count. Leaving you was a blessing in disguise. Because of his misfortunes, Havik retained powers that could destroy civilization. It drove him mad. -> Even with you against him, he was more than willing to suggest an act of mercy – if you were inclined to break a few bones. [ havik ]: look how weak you've become. have you not forgotten where you came from? [ you ]: i remember it clearly. you are the one who has gone too far!
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KUAI LIANG/SCORPION -> Kuai Liang met you more than once during his time in Outworld. He merely appears when Lord Liu Kang intends to be present with business with the Empress. Years prior, it was the Emperor. But with the reign of Sindel, peace and prosperity had become a failing occurrence between both realms. Outworld claims to be growing more powerful – to overpower Earthrealm for the upcoming tournament. It makes Kuai Liang question his integrity and place at the palace when the Fire God asks for his presence instead of his brother. Bi-Han is the grandmaster of Lin Kuei, “Shouldn’t Bi-Han be the better option to accompany you?” -> “I do not want to provoke the Empress,” Liu Kang explains, looking at him from the portal. The pyromancer had confidence in his protector, nodding. His plain response was all it took to understand the weight of their appearance in Outworld. Though Bi-Han would be the rightful companion, it is Kuai Liang – the younger and more compliant brother who could ease into any circumstance. But his nerves are jaded. Kuai Liang is nervous, not knowing what the occasion was for. There could be many reasons for their requested presence. Yet he could not think of one that involved Lin Kuei.  -> Scorpion’s mindset eases when you surprise him. Guests are presumably guided by the First Constable, Li Mei, to the courtyard leading to the royal palace. Your head pops out from a bush, smiling in all your glory. “Lord Liu Kang, what a pleasant surprise!” The fire user's heart pounces every time you do this. It would be wrong not to expect you to greet Outworld guests in such an unconventional manner. Your name comes easily to the Fire God, with a sense of familiarity. “How nice of you to see us first,” Even Liu Kang takes joy in you. Unlike the many faces of the royal court, you are much more tolerable and pleasant to converse with. Even Kuai Liang thinks highly of you. -> Nodding your hair flows in such an elegant way. The Empress dotted you – but your loyalties lay with General Shao. Your go-lucky personality was in defiance of your rank as a lieutenant general. Yes, Kuai Liang recalled the previous tournaments and how distant Lin Kuei was from the Outworld’s military. They do not see eye to eye in handling foreign threats and commoners. It is your chief's distaste for Earthrealm, always speaking out of malice. But you were not like General Shao or Reiko. You never showed hatred towards Lin Kuei or Earthrealm. -> Kuai Liang feels restful chatting with you. He sat in the conference room with the Fire God as the rest of the court minded their seats. In such a large establishment, it holds divinity and high status, not even Kuai Liang is used to. Empress Sindel, alongside General Shao, you and Reiko arrive and take your respective seats. You are a few seats left of him and warmly nod in Scorpion's direction. He flushes at how a casual gesture from you can incite him. -> Ordinarily, matters began. The pyromancer had no desire to speak amongst the crowd, only per Liu Kang’s permission. Yet, a disagreement broke the two sides of the table in half. “Why should we allow Earthrealmers to roam unworldly like children while our cities burn?” General Shao and his recurring rants about Earthrealm. No one could convince him otherwise, not even the Empress. He then directly sneers at Liu Kang. Kuai Liang darts a stern look until he hears your voice in the corner, standing firm from all the voices that cower over you. There is a hint of softness out of the goodness of your heart addressing your superior. Compared to life in Earthrealm, life is precious, a tangent between innocence and purity, something Outworld is indifferent to.
-> In response, a repulsed look forms on Shao’s face. “You dare defend Liu Kang's wishes? You have no right!” In truth, you knew you could never quench his thirst to repress Earthrealm. But to try to diminish his outrageous outburst for another day is good enough. Curses and insults were spat from all sides, even directed towards you. You and your kind would not understand. You come from the slums of Seido. Do not forget your place, soldier. The court is a spoiled place even Kuai Liang wishes never to be a part of. Tonight was apparent why. You, who only spoke of the truth and fairness, were brought down by your general. It was unacceptable.   -> In the late hours at the palace, Scorpion resides in the guest room, where he fails to find peace. Liu Kang had bid him to rest to prepare for the following days to the other cities they must visit. But the second brother of Lin Kuei failed to do so. The palace was too foreign to the cold tundra of his home. Eventually, he chose to take a walk across the courtyard. The moon was bright and shadowed all the land. The murky ponds had unbloomed lotuses. They were not in season yet. He could still make out the premature colors from their early forms. The ripples of water were tranquil, featherlike. And of the reason why he did not notice your presence before. -> His body freezes when you tap his shoulder. His breath comes short before choking out your name. “Must you always frighten your guests?” You laugh, seeing how startled he has become. “My apologies, Scorpion. I could not resist,” Nights like these with you were ideal. Prevalent to his previous visits, the two of you would do all sorts of activities. You would invite him everywhere, across the palace and into the city. Wherever you went, he would follow willingly. A heartwarming meal by the port. Or even now, a peaceful walk through the gardens. With you, nothing is dull. -> However, when you are not running around, you are predictable. Such as now, as you both rest at a stone bench. Across, the pond was luminescent of the reflection of the night sky. If you were to look, it would be like looking in a mirror, the water clear as crystal. “I’m assuming you leave at first light?” Tragic how your relationship is. You and Kuai Liang reunite with each other like strangers, never touching. In another, you were like twin flames, never leaving. A small part of Kuai Liang feels regret for every time you depart on missions. He will never see you again for some time. “General Shao was furious! It was his way of punishing me for talking out of turn.” He has no right, is what Kuai Liang wanted to say. But with how things were, he said nothing. -> But you look beautiful like this, under the moonlight wake. Without the garments that shield your figure, you are relaxed. The days that turn to months are cruel - but willing to linger for you. Fortunately, a few moments of silence allowed you to rise, brushing the nonexistent dusk from your pants. You had nothing else to say to Kuai Liang. Was he expecting something? He follows your pursuit and looks at you promptly. Without the mask, he is handsome. “Maybe under different circumstances, we would have more time,” Your heart skips as you slyly glance at him. Placing a hand on his jaw, “Maybe next time…” You see his eyes trail from your fingers to your lips. It was not right - you both knew that. [ scorpion ]: the general's mistreatment of you is unacceptable. [ you ]: (laugh) fortunately that is how things work in outworld.
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thisonehere · 3 months
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Could you do headcanons for Reiko, Rain, Havik and Bi-Han with a siren reader?
You got it!
Mk Men x Siren!reader
A/n: Hey you, nice to see you again. I love this idea so much. It reminds me of a series I did on this blog a while back...we don't talk about that... Tags: Mk1, MK AU, Siren!reader C/w: Yandere tropes, (in captain america voice) language! , allusions to s3x
Reiko
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He hadn't even met you yet and already he was interested. There is no doubt about it, he is a madman.
He'd come to you no doubt to get your aid in General Shao's ongoing campaign against the royal family. Shao had just gave a brief description of you and Reiko was almost instantly obsessed.
He would jump off the ship and swim to you before you even knew of their presence and could start singing. So the sight of him was confusing as much as it was beguiling.
He almost didn't want to bring you back to Shao. He wanted to keep you all to himself. Finally he would relent and brig back to his leader. To his luck, Shao assigned the both of you to work together.
He'd steal as many moments away as with you as he could. He refused to share you with anyone. He'd be in a fury whenever he heard a single soul showing any interest. Perhaps they wouldn't even show up the next day.
If a single soul said a single bad thing about you he'd beat the ever loving shit out of them. Hell, he'd beat them to death if no one stopped him.
He tells you how much he loves you every day. If given the chance, he'd show his love by sending gifts, odd things he knew you loved, or even dismembered limbs for you to feed off of. He would also show his love for you in... other ways, if he had enough time.
You are the only reason he even would show Liu Kang any bit of praise. He begrudgingly thankful to him for creating you.
The realms shudder at your joining hands with him. Your union is one of the deadliest ones in the realms. Both Shao and Liu Kang would worry about you two and how much of a threat you were slowly becoming.
Rain
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While one the run from Empress Mileena, Rain came across you as he traveled the seas. Or you came across him to be precise. At the sound of your call, Rain came to you unable to control himself. Much to your surprise, when Rain finally came to you he wasn't terrified at all, instead he was in awe. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever seen in his life.
So you let him live, you went with him, you have not parted with each other since.
Rain did everything he could to impress you, your perception of him seemed to matter to him most of all. He'd do every trick he knew of to amuse you. Your smile, your laugh was intoxicating to him.
To others, you were a horrid monster, to him, you were a beautiful mermaid, his muse. You inspired him in so many ways he'd be here for countless hours to name them all.
But as much as his interest in this relationship was about you, it was him. He loves you, but he also sees you as the perfect person to help him expand his skills and mastery. He'd want you to teach him everything you knew. His hunger for power sometimes eclipsed his interest in you.
But even then, he'd never want to betray you. The idea of not only betraying but leaving you is something so painful that he'd refuse yo imagine it. He already betrayed his Kingdom, he has lost everything. He can't lose you.
Havik
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You two had met when he was working with Rain to overthrow Seido, you were trying to lure him to his death, the usual. But this time was different, he wasn't going to because he was under your influence, he was doing this under his own fruition. You amaze him, a creature who is both beauty and beast. He had to have you.
The sight and realization that his chaotic nature subsides your control, as well as the fake that he's crazy enough to willingly approach you, it amuses you.
You both had a chaotic nature within you both, so you have an instant connection. His love for you is so great, he can't get enough of you.
Like Reiko, he sends you gift after gift. Keep in mind that these would be no normal gifts. They include but not limited to oddities, cursed artifacts, dismembered limbs (if he was feeling frisky, he'd send certain ones over others).
The things you'd do together are as insane as you'd imagine. You would lure people into your trap and he would torture them in whatever sadistic way you'd like.
Other times you'd do the most disturbing things to each other just for fun. Things so vile that it would make Shinnok sick. But you don't care you love doing these things together. You love being together, and all the realms shudder at the very thought of your union.
Bi-Han
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The very concept of you fascinates him. Everything about you amazes him, your beauty, your voice, your willingness to kill. Though he won't admit it, he's been obsessed with you ever since he first met you.
But how did you first meet? Ah yes, when you tried to lure him and some of his Lin Kuei to their deaths while they were at sea. He wasn't affected though, his iron-will protected him from your lull. But he couldn't get you off his mind from that point on, he had to get you by his side no matter the cost.
You were intrigued by him also, the way he resisted you. It brought you to him, ironically.
You two have been inseparable ever since. Together you formed an alliance so deadly that all the realms shuddered at your union.
Whenever you went away or weren't by his side, he felt alone and miserable. He couldn't live without you, he refuses to admit it but he does.
When you were together he'd insist that it was just you and him, no one was allowed to be present unless necessary. He wanted you all to himself.
Even though you were with Bi-Han, that didn't stop from continuing your habits. You'd still lure men to their deaths or worse, even if those men were Lin Kuei. But this didn't anger Bi-Han for you could do no wrong in his eyes. In fact, this makes him jealous. Is he not enough to satisfy you? What is so good about them that you prefer over him? Is what he thinks to himself.
He will never say to you, but he adores you and he'd never leave you alone, no matter what you do.
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thepenultimateword · 10 months
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Love Thy Enemy Part Five
<<First, < Last, Next >, *Master List*
“What did you do?” Pin’s nimble fingers expertly navigated the knot of chain links and hair, freeing strands bit by tedious bit.
“I couldn’t see,” Vorrin defended half-heartedly. He rubbed his hands over and over each other as if he could wipe away the memory of the knife in his hands. Even now, it burned a hole beneath him, stuffed in a slit he'd cut into the front side of the mattress. He tried to make it look as rough and handmade as possible. If anyone happened to see the hole, they may think it another casualty of yesterday's rage, and not suspect him of carrying a weapon.
A weapon. He was carrying, concealing, a weapon.
He'd denied it at first. Tried to explain that there was no way he could keep the knife on him, but the assassin had insisted. A precaution. Maybe something Vorrin would never use. But maybe, just maybe, if he never had another chance at a weapon... It made a dangerous sort of sense.
"You probably tried to yank it out before unbraiding it," Switch said, gathering up the contents of Vorrin's not deflated pillows feather by feather. He probably had 100 little downy fluffs stuffed into the makeshift basket of his tunic.
"I did not," Vorrin said though he honestly didn't remember. The undoing of a hairstyle was a small blip in the overwhelming events of last night. "Why are you gathering those anyways? You could sweep them."
"With the dust?" Switch stared at him incredulously.
"They're being thrown out anyway, aren't they? Wait. You're not about to stuff them back into my pillow are you?"
First, Vorrin wasn't certain he was allowed to have pillows returned just yet. Second, it seemed like an awful lot of unnecessary work when they could easily be replaced with one of the wool ones from the barracks. Surely those were still lying around.
"Not your pillow," Switch affirmed. "I couldn't in good conscience give the royal consort anything that had been on the floor. But there are a number of servers who wouldn't mind a bit of dirt."
Vorrin blinked. "Is that allowed?"He hated out snobbish it sounded out loud and quickly amended, "I mean it's a great idea, but would Empress Callista allow it?"
Switch, and even Pins, looked at him strangely. "The waste and excess always goes to the lower classes. It's the law."
"You mean the scraps?"
"No," Switch said disapprovingly. "Well, yes. The excess."
Vorrin nearly commented that fancy wording did not change the intent, but he stopped as he remembered that King Duras had never done any better. In fact, he taxed the people to buy an excess which he then threw out. He would have flogged a servant for attempting what Switch did now, justifying it as the servant trying to "rise above their station."
"Well. I hope you, or whoever uses them next enjoys them. Personally, they put a crick in my neck."
"Apparently you prefer none at all," Switch snapped then immediately froze, biting his lip savagely as if to latch his mouth shut. The young man habitually scolded like a mother hen, but it had never sounded so directly reproving. So bitter. And from the widening of his eyes, he'd definitely surpassed his station with that jab, and they all knew it.
"You really should be more careful," Pins said much more casually and offhanded, smoothly transferring the attention away from his mortified coworker. He tilted his head sideways to get a better angle at the tangles. "The Empress has a well of patience, but it may not stay full forever."
Good. That was what Vorrin wanted to say. Would have said yesterday. But defiance couldn't be his motive anymore.
"I'll be more careful," he said instead, then wryly, "Couldn't leave you boys unemployed, now, could I? You wouldn't know what to do with yourselves."
"Well, I wouldn't mind passing up this hair job." He leaned in closer, eyes narrowed, frowning deeply. "You really got it tangled--"
A knock interrupted Pins's complaint, quickly followed by the inward swing of the door and the proud clack of boot steps.
The empress surveyed the room, already tidier than last night, courtesy of Switch. Vorrin's neck prickled, the hidden blade suddenly seeming so obvious in its nook. Was she going to search the room? Did she know?
Pins immediately leaped back from Vorrin's hair, speaking a little too loudly. "It is certainly stuck. Forgive me Royal Consort, but I'm not authorized to help."
“No, you may continue." Empress Callista's tone washed over them in a way Vorrin had never heard before. Gentle. Her eyes fixed on Switch, frozen with his shirtful of feathers on the other side of the bed. "Would you be so kind as to find the Royal Consort something to wear?"
"Of course, your majesty." Head down, Switch slunk quickly past her.
Vorrin was glad he'd had the good sense to redress in yesterday's ruined clothing before the empress could arrive, but that didn't change the fact that the air had suddenly become acutely cold as it slipped through the large rip running down his chest. He expected a discomforting comment on the exposure, but instead, the Empress stepped across the room and, taking his bruised hand in hers, met his eyes.
Vorrin tried not to flick his gaze toward the hiding spot, tried not to show deceit in his eyes.
Pins slowly stepped back toward the bed, as if expecting a rebuke any moment. When it didn't come, his fingers returned to the remaining not, moving a little less confidently than they had before.
“I believe I was harsh on you," Empress Callista said, thumb stroking over the purple running up the side of his fist. "I still do not regret my actions in the city, but my treatment of you afterward did not fit the standards of care an empress should have toward her consort. I have not gone about this correctly. I was impatient for peace, and I expected too much of you too quickly. And for this I am sorry."
Vorrin blinked up at her in shock. Several things came to his mind all at once. 'You're right, you haven't gone about anything correctly', 'I wasn't on my best behavior either', 'Do you really expect me to accept an apology from you?', 'So even the great Empress Callista has a heart.'
Instead what came out was, “And Emil’s mother?”
The empress needed no explanation as to who he referred. “Tried and released. And much happier now that she’s seen her son.”
"You let her go?" Vorrin couldn't keep the astoundment from his voice.
"It was a first offense. For many, a night in the dungeons is all it takes to awaken someone to their mortality. Besides, she had a good ally backing her." Empress Callista smiled, a real one, softening the sharp edges of her features and traveling up into her eyes. The amber didn't glint with its usual wolfishness, instead lighting entirely, like rich sunlight. But just as quickly her lips pulled down again, returned to their proud line. "Though she will not get off so lightly a second time."
Vorrin nodded, gluing his eyes to the smooth pink of her nailbeds--how did she fight and still keep them so perfect?--forcing his reply up his throat. "I suppose...I was difficult."
"That's one word for it."
"Erratic?"
"That's another."
"Impertinent? Bull-headed? Psychotic?"
"Look at all those words you know," the empress said, as if praising a child. She caught herself. "I'm sure some of those describe me as well." She squeezed his hand a little tighter, twisting it to interlock fingers. "I'm going to fight for you, Vorrin."
Vorrin shivered at the casual usage of his name. It was usually "General" or something mocking like 'darling' or "love." She had never addressed him so personally.
"This kingdom needs balance. For that I need you. So if it means winning you first, so be it."
"And how do you intend to do that?" He probably should have simply agreed, but he was honestly curious.
"By taking even better care of you. Spending time together. Any meals I can spare. Day trips too if you behave. You may also have access to the armory and training grounds under supervision."
It still felt like the treatment of a pet or maybe a child, but he bit his tongue. He couldn't have asked for a better start into the empress's good graces. He sighed heavily.
"Thank you. I know I've been resistant to this whole thing...but I'll try. " Careful, not too much. "For my people." Better.
"Aren't you cute when you're agreeable."
Vorrin flushed, gritting his teeth. "Don't expect me to like any of it."
Empress Callista released his hand with an aggravatingly disbelieving smirk. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Master Taglist:
@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin
@ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotesthetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516@tobeornottobeateacher
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mk-oc-imagines · 4 months
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ziseviolet · 7 months
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Hi! I have a question. Im not entirely sure if these belong to chinese fashion because I only ever saw them in uncredited pictures. Theyre very intricate "eye patches", seemingly made from like gold or metal? they cover only one eye and I was wondering if they have a name or if its something made up? thank you for all your work!
Hi, thanks for the question, and sorry for taking ages to reply! (x)
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The intricate gold/metal "eye patches" covering only one eye that you see are most likely based on "半面妆/Ban Mian Zhuang" ("Half Face Makeup"), a popular Chinese novel written by 萧十一狼/Xiao Shi Yi Lang and published in 2015. Well-known Chinese gufeng-style illustrator 古戈力/Gu Ge Li provided beautiful artwork for the novel, as seen below (1, 2):
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Gu Ge Li's artwork inspired many hanfu photoshoots with ornate eyemasks (1, 2, 3, 4, 5):
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These eyemasks are essentially made-up fantasy masks with Chinese elements incorporated into the design. They are not based on historical Chinese masks, which look very different. Thus you can just call them 面具/mianju, which is the general Chinese term for masks.
On a related note, similar types of fantasy masks also appear frequently in Chinese guzhuang (period costume) films & dramas, especially in the wuxia and xianxia genres. As @audreydoeskaren touched on in this post, these masks are typically not historically accurate, but are included for aesthetic effect (like many other elements in guzhuang media).
Below - fantasy masks in Chinese film/dramas. Clockwise from top left: women - Painted Skin: The Resurrection, Legend of Nine Tails Fox, The Empress of China, The Blue Whisper; men - Love and Redemption, Xuan-Yuan Sword: Scar of Sky, The Untamed, Battle Through the Heavens:
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Deriving inspiration from art and television, fantasy masks have become a popular accessory for hanfu photoshoots.
For more examples of Chinese masks (both historical & fantasy), please see my masks and eyemask tags.
Hope this helps! ^^
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riniworld · 1 month
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fulfil my wish
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yandere!emperor oc x general!f!reader
warnings// obsession,yandere theme,mention of killing and blood,breaking bones,not proofread, let me know if i missed anything!
refrence// you,my love,flower,your majesty-honor, she/her
a/n//i don't actually know if all of this make sense-
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it's been months since you've got married to taron,and you hated every second of it.
your place is in the field with a sword or in a war not in this luxurious life full of lazeness,but he prevented you from using the sword again saying it's too dangerous for an empress to go to the war.
in the start you didn't mind because you don't want to hold the sword against your home,but you can't handle it anymore when you couldn't even go out the castle.
your life start to become plain and boring,you literally had read the entire library.
whenever you open the topic with taron he close it immediately.
You've gave up on getting out from there and didn't argue about it more untill...
You have a younger sister who got married early to one of the soldiers who was under your wing, but he died in one of the battles so you took her and her children responsibilitys on you,You found a job for her to support herself and her children, and you visited them every month but after what happen you forget about her.
you were on your way to taron to give him some papers he had told you to bring because he forgot them in the room when you stumble on one of his correspondents telling him news about the empire and he mentioned something about your sister losing her job.
you had alot of questions first is that how does taron know about her? second Why does he receive her news? She doesn't even live here,but all those questions faded away when you realize you should go visit her.
You were jolted out of your thoughts when the door opened,the correspondent bow in respect and go.
taron smiled softly when he saw you "ah did you bring them already?"
you put the papers on his desk "what did the correspondent told you?" you asked like you didn't hear anything,maybe he'll told you what happen to your sister in details.
"Don't bother yourself with it, it's just normal news about the state of the empire"
you nod in acknowledge "I'll go now then,i need to do something"
"do you now? why don't we drink some tea together,We don't usually sit together" he took your hand and kissed the back of it
you pull your hand quickly "no thanks" then you left.
but then you stopped in your track,Why don't you get closer to him? Maybe he'll let you out the castle then? this idea hit you as you made your way back to him.
you opened the door aggressively "you know what let's drink tea together i don't have anything to do"
taron was confused as much as he was happy,did you finally decided to give him a chance?.
"sure,of course come sit" he said and pull the chair for you to sit on.
when you sat down he demanded the servants to bring two cups of tea in a rush
you sip from your cup in tense,since he sit down he kept just looking at you.
"your tea will get cold" you point out.
"hm?....ah yes,yeah right" he shake his head like he just come to his sense.
you roll your eyes when he wasn't looking.
he sip from his cup befor he speak "What is the reason for the sudden change in behavior,hm?....it's not like i'm complaining of course"
you pause thinking of a reason "...nothing really....I'm-just bored."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise "you're bored? Did the servants fail to bring you anything? do you need anything? should i punish someone?"
"whao there,it's nothing like that i just.....it's boring being here all the time"
he sigh "i don't like where this going to."
"why so? all i ask is a little walk in the cit-"
"no." he shuts you up immediately. "we've talked about that before,if you need anything I'll send someone to bring it to you."
"it's totally different! i need some fresh air"
"the garden is big enough"
"but it's annoying to be in the same place over and over again."
"look.." he say as he made his way to you taking your hands in his "it's all for your safety,we don't know what will happen if you set your foot outside the gates."
"i belive I'm more than capable of myself." you say in annoyance.
taron chuckle slightly "yes,i trust you can of course, let's just say i don't want anyone to see your beauty as well...If I didn't have to, I wouldn't let the servants see you at all"
"that's bullshit" you mutter under yout breath.
"i know you're not the type to stay in one place,but you'll get used to it"
you glare at him in anger and pull your hands from his.
taron sigh in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.
"is boredom the only reason that you want to go out?"
you stayed silent for a moment, "no...i want to visit my sister."
"...oh..you have a sister?"
what a liar,it taking everything in you to not punch him, "i do" you say between gritting teeth.
"don't worry about her,just tell me where is she and I'll take care of her." he smiled at you.
"no need, just let me visit her." you say in desperate.
"I'll think about it" he goes back to his side of the table "i would love to spend some more time with you but i have duties to attend" he say in an apologising tone.
you left the room without saying anything,knowing that it's just lies and he won't let you go.
you're laying down on the bed,you couldn't sleep last night thinking of ways to visit your sister.
Even if you can avoid the servants, you will not be able to avoid the guards outside.
you sigh and gets up to change,you'll think better in the fresh air.
When you open the door to leave, you're stopped by a guard standing at the door.
"please forgive me,your majesty,But it's orders you can't leave your room."
you scoff and get inside,that happened alot when taron get guests.
you sit beside the window looking out at the garden lost in thought,you heard rambling outside the door,that most be the servants busy providing hospitality,poor people.
but that when an idea crossed your mind,everyone busy with the guests,no one will notice you snaking out,And if you use a little of your power as an empress, you can leave, and no one will tell taron immediately.
you open the door again and cut the guard before he say anything "i need to use the lavatory."
the guard look between you and taron's guest room,you clear your throat to get his attention again "I'm sure taron wouldn't mind,in fact he might even get angry if he knew you didn't let me go." you feel a little guilty to use his fear against him but you know you had to,for your sister.
the guard stood in front of you in tense "as you wish,your majesty,but let me escort you."
you had no choice but to accept,now you're here in the toilet thinking about how to get rid of him.
You use one of the moves you had learned as a general,
You pull him in quickly as you apply enough pressure to the carotid arteries,while you cut off the blood flow to his brain, render him unconscious.
you mutter "sorry" and left,walking slowly to the outside gates you've bumped on one or two of the servants who questions you if you need anything or telling you that taron don't want you to go out now,but you brush it off by some excuses as he the one who told you to bring him something or you want something personal from a room.
You have successfully reached the outdoor garden, you made your way to the gates and the guards stopped you "sorry your honor but you are forbidden from leaving, it is the Emperor's orders"
you expected this to happen "I've been given permission to leave"
the guards look at each other and then one of them speak "excuse us but we have to ask his majesty about this"
"are you calling me a liar?" you say sternly.
the guard started to get tense and bow his head "i would never your honor!"
"it's-it's just for safety,your honor,so his majesty won't get upset" the other guard says shakly
"there's no need to disturb him right now,i belive my word is enough to go by,isn't it?"
the guards opened the way to you and shouted "yes of course your honor!"
it would be strange for you to go walking in this clothes in public so you take a trolley to escort you.
your eyes land on a clothes shop,it sells ordinary clothes just the thing you need so you told the trolley driver to stop by it, when you enter everyone star at you,not that they recognize you thank to taron's possessiveness, but because you look more like a royalty to buy something from a store like that.
you ignore the stars and whispers in your way looking for something more comfortable you can run in it if needed...or fight.
when you find what you want and wear it you head to pay but then realize that you didn't bring with you any money,cursing under your breath as you think of something you can pay by, your eyes landed on your ring,your wedding ring,it's not like you loved it anyway so you give it to the seller who look at you with shock but eventually take it of course even if it was too much for the price.
as you walk out the store,you tries to hide your face as much as you can so the trolley driver won't recognize you,when you get far enough you start to walk casually but fast trying to reach your sister as fast as you can before taron knows about your disappear and make a huge deal of it.
8:00p.m
it's been two hour when those shame of royalties has been here,taron grew annoyed,What they say is all bullshit to him,he could kick them out easily and for no reason but he doesn't want to deal with the drama that will happen... not now at least not when you finally softened up to him a little bit,his mood ease a little when he thought of you.
he wonder if you're asleep right now,and hope you're not, he want to spend some time with you again.
8:30p.m
oh finally they're gone!,taron bid them farewell coldly and fast he didn't even escort them to the gates but can they complain? they're lucky enough he even accepted to meet them and didn't kick them out by 5 min.
taron head to your room and got angry when no one stand at the door,didn't he set a guard here?.
he opens the door to your room slowly so he won't wake you up if you were sleeping,But all his annoyance changed to shock when he did not see anyone in the room he made sure to not let you out didn't he?!
taron shouted for the servants to come and by seconds three servants bowing on their hands before him,no one dared to left their head up not when their emperor is angry.
"i belive I've made myself clear to not let y/n left the room,haven't i?,so where is she now?" his tone is terrifyingly filled with coldness.
"We-we were s-s-so busy hosting that we didn't notice anyone leaving,your-your Majesty" one of them say shakly with terror.
"you useless insects!" he shouted "I'll deal with you later,go and prepare my horse and let some of those guards prepare themselves too...quickly!" he demanded.
the servants hurried to do what they had been told.
taron knew exactly where are you going to,if you only waited for some days, he was going to take you there of course he was, why would he prevents you from visiting your sister?? he was just going to make it a surprise but you had to break his words and now you ruined everything, he has to make you learn how to obey him even if he have to use power.
day later
it wasn't easy to left the empire the guards was everywhere, you even had to hide somewhere for like three hours.
but eventually you're out know and close to your sister's house it only take an hour walking.
.
.
.
you finally here after alot of trouble,you knock on the door and your sister opened the door real quick.
"ah-y/n! what-what got you here?"
you didn't answer instead you throw yourself at her and hug here tight,she return the hug but there was something strange about her, she sutter and seems like really anxious,you shrug this feeling off maybe she's still brokendown.
she guster you inside "I've heard about what happened" you say while sitting down.
"o-oh really? it's not a big deal...and i-i heard about your marriage" she brings some tea and biscuit to a table in front of you.
"ugh don't talk about that now,it's miserable..that sham of a man thinks he have the right to control my life or something"
"y-y/n ac-actually he's-"
"but it's true my love, i do have the right to control your life" someone cut your sister off, you recognize that voice, taron
you stand up in a defensive pose quickly wich lead to knock the tray off "what are you doing here?!"
"what? am i not allowed to visit my beloved wife sister?" he said with innocent tone.
you look at your sister with a questioning look,but what got you angry more is how your sister shiver in fear, what did he do to her?!.
"i swear to god taron if you've hurt her!" you warning.
taron only chuckle slightly "I've never heard you say my name,it's like honey when you say it"
you didn't replay don't want to go further with his playing.
taron's expression suddenly turned serious "now let's go back to the castle,and you're going to come with me obediently" he say coldly
you wanted to argue but your sister life is on the line,before you even replay he grabbed your arm and dragged you to his horse behind the house, he ride the horse at first and demand "ride" as you ride hesitantly.
The road to the castle was quiet and full of tension, you knew full well that there would be consequences when you return, but at least your sister was safe.
as soon as you reached your destination, taron took you by your arm forcefully and then threw you on the floor of the room.
you fall on your back hard but you swallow your groan,Before you lift yourself off the ground taron place his foot on your neck It chokes you a little.
"you broke my words,flower. i have to make sure you won't do it again." he say strangely calm as he tuck down and take one of your arms
the next thing you hear is a cracking noise,fuck he broke your arm.
you bite your lips to not scream and sound weak,All thanks to your training as a general,but you eventually let a little groan escape as he force more wight on it.
"you broke my heart,flower. The least i can do is break your arm,and this still not as much pain as I felt" with every word come out his mouth he twists your arm more "be thankful i didn't kill your sister."
with that he left you alone,you lift yourself up and embrace your arm letting out a few tears,it of course doesn't hurt like the battles injuries But this is the first time someone has broken your pride, and who did it? The person you hate most!.
you swear you'll get your revenge someday.
someone knock on the door,you gave permission to enter, the castle's doctor entered,she respectfully told you to sit on the bed so she cast your broken arm. (i guess it's like that?)
When she finished, she wished you a speedy recovery and left.
taron entered as soon as the doctor left,he looked at your arm for some minute before he exhale and sit down beside you.
"you lost that" He takes your good hand and place your wedding ring in your finger,a blood-stained ring,did he kill the clothes seller?!.
"you of course hadn't gave it willingly,so i brought it back to you, don't mind the blood it'll go easly with some soap" he was smiling, how can he smile when he just killed an innocent person!.
maybe the blood on the ring will remind you what taron can do without guilt, if you hadn't listen to him this would've been you sister blood.
he's terrifying.
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finallyyyyyy
hope you like it :)!
have a nice day/night♡
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fairyhaos · 7 months
Text
❍ the 2k event: jeonghan + empire
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vote for this fic in the poll!
alternative title: burn, palace, burn
pairing: prince!jeonghan x f!empress!reader
genre: historical au, empire au, enemies to lovers, angst
word count: 1517
warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, manipulation, imprisonment (yeah,,, this ended up a little dark)
event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @jeonwonwoo
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War is never something you’ve enjoyed.
Bloodshed is horrifying, and the amount of lives lost, often futilely, make your stomach churn and your heart ache. The effects of war are almost always felt for generations after, staining child after child and traumatising the land beyond belief, the blood of enemies and allies and victims painting nightmares into the soil.
What a shame that your hands are dripping in that very blood.
You sigh, straightening yourself in your throne, brushing at the delicate golden chains dangling from your headdress as they touch your shoulders. However, you’ve been brought up by a tyrannical family, hell-bent on controlling their people. It’s always been your greatest desire to undo that damage, create a prosperous society, but that has proved near impossible.
That was a lesson your advisors had taught you, early on in your reign. As a woman, you’d have little power but to do as the men before you had done.
“Your Imperial Highness! The Great Sun of our land! Your imperial army returns from their latest battle!”
The doors to the throne room burst open, and in strides the head general, helmet under his arm, chest puffed, cheeks splattered with blood. It makes you feel sick.
But what makes you even more ill is the fact that he’s not alone. Behind him, two other soldiers drag in a man, tugging on his chains and forcing him to kneel before you. His head his bent, once-rich robes tattered and torn. There is a crown on his head, but on closer inspection, it looks to be a crude imitation of one, fashioned from tatty cloth and rotten sticks.
“We have returned from our conquest in the East,” your Head General says, proud. “The Kingdom of Thae has fallen to your mighty reign.”
Another kingdom acquired by your crown, you think weakly. Another kingdom for your advisors to lord over. Another kingdom for you to play at being empress to.
“Well done,” you say, and try to hide the discomfort from your voice. Masking it should come easily, given the countless times you’ve done this, but your horror at what has become of you never ceases to fade. “The Imperial Crown thanks you for your service.”
The Head General nods in acknowledgement, and point to the man kneeling beside him. “We have brought the prince of the Thae Kingdom here to you. Though their King and Queen have been slaughtered, Advisor Kim relayed that you would enjoy certain… spoils of war, if there were any left.”
Your head spins. This is horrific. You want to leave.
“Yes,” you manage to force out, as gracefully as possible. “Thank you.” You look down at the man, and his head is still bent, but his chained wrists shake from the way he clenches his fists tightly. “Pray tell, what is the prince’s name?”
The Head General smirks, and steps back. “Would your Imperial Highness like to take a look at him?”
It’s posed as a question, but you have no choice.
You rise from your throne, (lies, it’s not yours, it’s always belonged to anyone but you—) and descend the steps, kneeling before the man, the heavy silks of your skirt fanning out beneath you.
With one finger, you lift up his head, and your breath catches.
He’s beautiful.
“Prince Yoon Jeonghan, Your Imperial Highness,” your Head General introduces for you, and even his name is beautiful.
His hair, raven-dark and mussed up, is still velvet-soft as you tuck a lock behind his ear, mesmerised by his beauty. His eyes are like black diamonds, so dark that you could fall into them and yet endlessly bright and sparkling. His skin is pale, and he looks so small and delicate and you wish for nothing more than to whisk him away from this horrible, horrible world.
Jeonghan snarls, and his teeth sink into your wrist.
Immediately, the guards around him pull at his chains and tug him back, tug him so hard that he falls back, head crashing painfully on the cold stone of the floor.
“Oh!” You don’t even register the stinging teeth marks on your wrist, bleeding red beads, standing up and rushing to his side, holding the back of his head, even as he swats angrily at you, chains clinking. “Are you alright?”
Jeonghan stares at you as if you’ve gone insane, wrestling himself from your grip and receiving more harsh tugs for his actions. 
“I gather that Your Imperial Majesty is pleased with this prince?” the Head General says, and the sick pleasure in his tone makes you look up.
“Indeed,” you say, with all the authority you can muster. “Now, leave us.”
There are little benefits to being a puppet empress, but at least the people still have to respect you.
Once they all leave, and the room is empty, you fall to your knees beside him once again, brushing at his robes, seeing if he’s alright. But Jeonghan pushes your hands away again, hissing.
“Leave me alone,” he snaps, and his voice is cracked and hoarse but the anger pulsates, ever-present and unable to be hidden. “I refuse to be your boytoy.”
“Let me help you,” you beg, noticing the bruises along his arms, the dried-up blood on his neck. “Please. I could— I could give you a good life here. I promise.”
Jeonghan’s eyes darken, icy flames dancing in his irises, every blink oozing hate. “Your promises mean nothing to me,” he spits. “I refuse to bow down to a bully like you. You’re a killer, a manipulator, and I want nothing to do with the likes of you.”
Every word is a steel shard struck straight into your heart, and it’s startling how much the hate stings you. You’ve conquered countless kingdoms before, albeit not by your own choice, and you know that this is how people must view you. And yet, it hurts, to hear the venom and calculated rage pouring out of this prince’s mouth.
“I’m not those things,” you say quietly, voice echoing meekly within the large throne room. 
Jeonghan scoffs, opening his mouth to retort, and you rush to carry on.
“I’m not the one in charge. I have no power, no control here. I’m—I’m as much a prisoner as you are, a prisoner to my people, to my advisors, to my court. They prod me and push me around as they please, and I can’t do anything against them without being killed. Please, I— just let me help you.”
The hate does not waver in Jeonghan’s eyes. His delicate, pale face is contorted into an expression of such loathing that it makes you shiver in fear.
“If you’re all those things,” he says venomously, “then how can you help me?”
“I can keep you alive,” you say. “I can make sure you won’t die any time soon.”
Jeonghan freezes, and then slumps. He’s sitting on the floor of your recently polished throne room, satin robes torn and charred and splattered with blood. The floor shines, and his blackened fingers curl into the stone, fingernails scraping painfully.
“I just want my parents to be alive,” he says, quietly. “I want my life back.”
His words hit too close to home, and your heart constricts. It takes you several deep breaths before you manage to compose yourself again, and you rest a hand gently on his own.
“I can’t give that to you,” you admit, “however much I want to. I… I can’t even do that for myself.”
Jeonghan looks up, and there’s a question there, amongst the flickering flames of derision and fury and sadness.
“But I can give you a life,” you say. “It won’t be your old one, but it’ll be a life all the same. If you work with me, I can… I think I can free you. Free everyone.”
Jeonghan’s brow furrows, and a sheen covers his eyes as he thinks it over. He’s tattered and underfed and probably suffering several wounds, and yet he is taking the time to think of your offer, and part of you wonders faintly if Jeonghan, before all of this had happened to him, had been someone intelligent and calculating and revered by his people.
You feel even more ill for what you've done to him. For what others have done to him in your name. 
“Very well,” Jeonghan says finally, and your eyes widen. His chains clatter once again, and he holds his hand out. “Help me, and I help you.”
You smile, and take his hand, gently helping him to his feet. “I promise.” You prod at the chains on his wrists. “I'll free you. I will."
The beginnings of a smile tug at Jeonghan's lips. He tugs at the golden threads of your crown, and you let him, let him push it off, let it crash to the floor in a tinkle of expensive and heavy metal. 
"How noble of you, Empress," he says, but there's a light in his eyes, devious and cunning. He's a fighter, Jeonghan is. You can tell. He grins. 
"Let's burn this empire to the ground."
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