#i have been chewing it in my mind palace much lately

[chernabogs]

Hello! I rise from my tumblr slumber to humbly ask if you’d be interested in writing for Malleus, based on the prompt ‘I didn’t feel like I’d step into another world, but like it’d stepped into me. I knew I was there and forgot I’d left anything behind.’ from the prompt list you’d reblogged? I am…sensing much Malleus related angst potential here.

Hehe yes... sort of angst, sort of spooky

RUINS

Inc: Malleus, a fisherman, one ghost (maybe?) WC: 3.1k Warnings: Bleak LMAO. Drug use (smoking, alcohol, and tobacco thanks to the fisherman), ocean horror mention, supernatural horror mention. Summary: A boy looking for his mother visits the last place she was before her passing.

“It’ll be a few hours down the path just beyond the tree line. Impossible to miss if you ask me.” The man pauses to chew on his cigar, his dark gaze narrowing, before grabbing for his pint again. “Why’re you interested ‘n that place anyway? Right rotten, it is.” 

The Red Rabbit is a place renowned for information gathering and sharing—so long as you allow the bartender to continue pouring the mead. Malleus’ fingers reach up to brush along the hood of his travelling cloak as he pulls his own pint glass close. He’s used glamour to conceal most of his obvious features. If anyone saw the crown prince sitting in a dingy pub asking for directions, it would most certainly cause a stir. 

“Right rotten, is it?” Malleus raises the pint to his lips and allows the burning liquid to slide down his throat. Fae mead is noxious, only in that it can get you intoxicated in the first few sips—if you’re a human. The man who sits before Malleus has taken more than a few at this rate. “Perhaps it would be best to let me be the judge of that myself.”

His companion snorts before setting his cigar aside. He’s a fisherman; the scent of the ocean lingers on his person, and his hands are calloused from tossing and hauling nets into an ungiving depth. The shores of lands that had once been Briar Nations have been deprived of fish ever since they became isolated. The village’s landscapes, once vibrant, have now become jagged rocks and dead trees. The villagers are no different. “Go where y’want, see what y’wish. So long as yer not on the rob. That’ll get you killed.” 

This is another thing that Malleus has noticed regarding the village and its denizens—people mind their own business. This is uncommon for small villages, where most would be itching to get in everyone’s affairs, and only further emphasizes the economic faults of the borderlands. It unsettles him.

He didn’t come here on a whim. The thought of this journey had sat in his mind ever since he found out the origins of his birth, and the deception under which he was raised. Perhaps this is why when he slipped out of the palace through the servant’s entrance and into the forest late at night, he did not feel threatened by the burning gaze he felt on his back.

His grandmother owed him. This, she seemed to know, and so she let him go without protest. 

Still, the villagers final comment piques Malleus’ attention. “Get me killed, hm? And what could be there to kill me if it’s just a rotten, desolate place?” 

“Dire beasts’ nests are in there. Few of the guys have seen ‘em—big, hungry things lumbering past the stained-glass windows and down the corridors. Lots’ve people who try goin’ there end up goin’ missing instead because they underestimate how vicious a defensive mother can get.” The fisherman picks up his cigar again and chews on the end. “Anyone who’s lived here long enough knows.” 

Malleus’ nails tap against the pint before pushing it aside and setting a coin pouch on the table. The fisherman raises an eyebrow, his beady dark gaze darting from Malleus to the pouch in interest. There’s enough to pay for Malleus’ drink, the fisherman’s drink, and probably tide the man over for the wintertime as well. A saccharine smile pulls on Malleus’ lips—the part of him that isn’t shadowed by the hood he wears over his head. “Take me there yourself, and I’ll give you more.” 

The fisherman chews on his cigar, staring at Malleus as he does. A thoughtful look crosses his face before it ends in him shaking his head. “Fuckin’ rich ‘uns…” 

His grumbling doesn’t stop him from grabbing the pouch and opening it up. He drops a few madol on the table before shoving the rest of the pouch in his pocket and tossing his cigar aside. A foul, hacking sound comes from his lips before he spits on the floor—which Malleus tries politely not to make a face over—and grabs his raincoat. “Come off it, then. I’ll take it the ocean way. It’s a lot faster and safer than tryin’ ta move through the woods. Bad season for that.” 

“Bad season?” Malleus asks as he rises to his feet. The fisherman shuffles past the other patrons in the crowded space before shouldering the door open to step back in the bleak outdoors. He mutters under his breath as he digs around his pockets before pulling out a small container and popping something into his mouth. The pungent smell of chewing tobacco notifies Malleus quickly of what it is. 

“S’breeding season. Everything in those woods is all riled up and starving in their energy. You’d make a fine morsel for somethin’.” The fisherman glances back at him and grimaces. “Tall n’ scrawny.” 

Well, Malleus tries not to take too much offence to that as he follows the fisherman down the path towards the docks. In his transformed appearance, his physique did look different than usual—leaner, less ‘victim of countless years of training.’ 

“Tragic,” is all he sighs instead before adjusting his hood once more. 

_______________

There’s something humbling about sitting on a cramped boat next to a net full of dead fish that you don’t really realize until you experience it. For Malleus, who sits with his knees to his chest and his body leaning as far away from the net as possible, it’s an experience he doesn’t want to go through again. The fisherman seems utterly unbothered as he stands at the end of the boat, looking out at the murky waters beyond while still chewing on the same tobacco lump. The vessel putters slowly with its magic-powered engine into the night. 

“Gotta go at this pace in case we run into rocks below.” The fisherman shouts over his shoulder as he looks down to the waters again. “Or anythin’ else for that matter.” 

“Anything—” Malleus recoils as a slimy fish corpse brushes against his hand. His expression twists and he swats it away. “Eugh. Anything else?” 

“Merfolk, sea creatures, indiscernible entities. Y’know—no man’s land specialties.” The fisherman’s foot kicks against the engine as the boat is guided to swerve around a rock in question. “Merfolk especially have been comin’ up and around these parts. Which is strange, considerin’ they usually mind themselves down in the Coral Sea.” 

“Perhaps they are vacationing.” Malleus prompts. He knows this is a stupid idea as soon as the words leave his lips, and the fisherman’s bark of a laugh reassures him of such. No one is vacationing to these no man lands. 

The two of them fall back into silence as Malleus looks out to the sea. The lamp on their boat hardly cuts through the darkness that shrouds around them, churning and twisting like the waters they drift upon. He can see why stories of sailors going mad in the night are so prevalent in these parts. The world around them, which seems to hold no beginning or end in this moment, is a prime canvas for delusions. 

“Try not to look out too long. Focus on the lamp instead.” The fisherman’s voice draws him once more as the boat sails along a cliffside now. Black stones loom over them in a daunting stance. It’s the same stone that was used to create Black Scale Palace—carved from the body of Briar Nation itself, back when the body still had a lot to give and belonged to his family. He can see faintly where fae-made chips reside and where nature itself has taken course. “It’s a fool's role to try and see out there. You’ll start seein’ shit that isn’t.”  

Malleus sinks back down in the boat with a sigh. The fisherman is weathered enough to have done this for a long time now if his grey hair and sun-wrinkled skin had anything to say. If he can survive to this age, then it’s for a good reason. 

“How much longer?” He asks. The fisherman scratches his chin before stepping off the bow and sitting against the side of the boat. Fish corpses, a fisherman, and the void-like world around him—Malleus is beginning to doubt the journey’s worth. 

“Five minutes, give’r take. Best just get comfortable.” 

Comfort is impossible with the pungent scent around them, but Malleus pulls his cloak tighter regardless and looks back to the lamp. A few insects bump against the glass in a foolish bid to reach the light, and he busies himself by counting how many burn up in their efforts. 

_______________

When they finally arrive, he pays the fisherman enough madol to wait for him at the bottom of the cliffs before beginning the steep ascent up the hills. His mother had an apparent idea that building a palace near the edge of the nation’s lands was a brilliant one. Perhaps in the forgiving summer months the view of the ocean was tranquil and pleasing. Right now, it’s the most loathsome thing in his existence. 

Making it to the top of the cliff offers no reprieve, either. He’s greeted abruptly with an excess of thorns twisting and writhing their way across the earth. Brambles, starving for something, shudder and groan as he inches past them. The only reason they refuse to sink into his supple flesh is perhaps because they can smell the magic of their creator imbued within him. His mother apparently did have brilliant ideas—one of them being to give him a healthy dose of magic before her departure. 

“Gods,” he hisses as he burns away another bramble. The sudden light seems to make the patch shudder and retract with an angry sound. The movement enables Malleus to notice a different aspect of the palace that he neglected—the scent of diurnal fae magic. He can feel it clashing with his mothers in a power-struggle for control, the two essences entwining and biting like starving dogs. The diurnal fae likely wished to keep humans away—Malleus wagers his mother wished for the opposite. 

His lip curls in disgust as he makes his way down the stone path leading to the decrepit white structure beyond. The closer he gets, the more he begins to see the truth in the fisherman’s warnings. Stained glass windows are either blown out or breaking along the palace’s walls. The stones themselves are chipping and beginning to crumble, crushed under the weight of the thorns that still twist and move subtly. The musky scent of animals also begins to appear alongside the earlier magic. This is what draws him to a stop as he reaches the front door. 

It may have been heavily fortified once. Now, it looks as though one door was violently kicked in, lying broken on its hinges and giving just enough room for Malleus to wiggle inside. He nips his finger on a thorn, causing a curse to slip past his lips as he presses his wound to his tongue before his feet finally meet stone again. 

There’s no chuffing of dire beasts from within like the fisherman warned. There’s also no indication of any sort of haunting present, which Malleus has also heard rumours of. 

No. Upon entering Wild Rose Palace for the first time in his life, Malleus is greeted with silence—anticlimactic, and brutally honest. 

“... hm.” He shoves his hood off his head and waves a hand to dispel the transformation glamour he’s been wearing. Once that’s in order, he begins to move down the hall to his right, his eyes narrowing with intent swimming in their green depths. If the layout of this palace is the same as Black Scale, then the throne room is likely down this hall, past a few more turns, and then through another set of double doors—nestled right in the heart of the building. 

As he moves, he does begin to track similarities to his grandmother's home. It didn’t feel like he had stepped into another world—rather, that it had stepped into him. He knows he’s here and yet feels like he forgot he left to arrive. It’s unnerving. His fingers trace along the wall to his left as he passes by suits of armour, portraits either torn up or faded from age, and tapestries that display tales with which he isn’t familiar. His grandmother had tried hard to shield him from a lot of things. This apparently includes censoring literature that may have once existed. 

The brambles continue to part for him as he makes turn, after turn, after turn in the labyrinthian design that was formed in his mother’s mind. His breath hitches a few times in panic when he hears a sound from behind him in the hall, causing his pace to pick up, only to level out again when the sounds fade. It feels as though he’s been walking for eons when another set of doors finally appear. 

Carved of black oak and adorned with two dragons curled on their frame, he reckons that they can only lead to one place as his hands grasps the cold, metal knobs. With a jerking motion, he pulls them open to a cacophony of deafening shrieks, and steps inside. 

_______________

Glass. 

The sight of his body takes him aback for a second as his expression becomes almost comical. The wall behind the throne that sits at the end of the large room is glass, polished and untarnished despite nearly 400 years of neglect. His hands fall from the knobs as he slowly makes his way inside. There are stained glass windows lining the one wall while the other is white stone, which is decorated with brambles crawling to the rafters above. Malleus steps over them deftly, frowning as he does before coming to a stop in the middle of the room. Once he reaches this point, he pauses, before closing his eyes and trying to think. 

He wants to see if he can feel her. Even a slight lingering wisp of her presence would be enough to please him. He wants to know if he can experience what it’s like: a mother’s touch, a mother’s voice. His grandmother had tried hard to shield him from a lot of things, with maternal affection also being one—not that he can blame her. He used to, but experiencing loss first-hand had taught him that not everyone heals the same way. A few remain more fractured than others even in the years after. 

“Mother?” He tries the term on his tongue, tastes it, rolls it over to see what that’s like as well. It’s foreign. His mouth struggles to form it and his voice warbles as his eyes open and he grimaces. Sour and strange—that’s how it tastes. His feet drag him closer to the throne before he kneels upon it to peer at the glass wall. 

It looks like it was covered by fabric once. Scraps of violet remain pooled on the floor, which he passes a sparing glance at before looking up again. He feels like a child as he peers over the thrones edge to his curious reflection. He used to do this with his grandmother when he was little—play on her throne, try to get her attention for even a moment. He’s always been somewhat of a needy child. 

“Mother?” He prompts again. Maybe saying it twice will do something. Instead, the only thing he receives is his own voice echoing back as he looks over his shoulder to the darkened hallways beyond. 

Silence—anticlimactic, and brutally honest. 

His nails dig into the metal of the throne as he slumps down, temporarily dejected. It’s a stupid thing to get dejected over, he reasons to himself. It isn’t like he expected to hear what her voice sounded like anyway. All he has are a few nagging memories of it from his time within his egg. His head turns to the side to look in the glass again. His expression is less curious and more frustrated now as he stares into his own green eyes. 

And then, a flash. 

It’s so subtle that he might have missed it had he not been looking in the glass at the right moment. It makes him sit up straighter as his breath stutters to a pause. There’s nothing for another few seconds before another flash, and another. A few lost green fireflies seem to have found their way into the palace and are now floating by his head in interest. Malleus’ lips crack into a faint smile as his hand goes up to brush against one, which lights up bright before floating just out of reach. 

He can see them in the mirror. The fireflies, the stained glass, the tapestries, the shadow—

Shadow. 

He thinks for a moment—just one, foolish moment—that he can see standing behind him in that glass, something tall, with horns like his own and a flash of green that isn’t a firefly. Malleus twists around rapidly in the throne, his body tense and ready for conflict, only to look upon a room devoid of anything but him and the insects. The silence of all but his own breath is becoming oppressive, weighted, like he’s starting to no longer be welcomed in this place. He hears something low rumble from somewhere else within the palace as he waves a hand to conceal his appearance. 

He rises from the throne, shaken but not put off as he steps down to the stone floor once more. A thought crosses his mind that he can’t help but find amusement in—it’s utterly her. From the stories he’s heard through Lilia, and Baul, and even his grandmother on the odd night, it’s utterly her to give him a fright before vanishing into the ether once more. 

It thrills him. It vindicates him. 

“Thank you, mother.” There’s a dry bit of humour in his tone as he casts one last glance to the throne before turning away. 

Does he feel as though a part of himself is satisfied now? Does he feel whole? He isn’t sure. Perhaps the realization will come to him on the boat ride back to the bleak, miserable village he came from. Perhaps the realization will come to him in his bed, when he’s wrapped in sheets of black silk and staring at the stars beyond. Perhaps the realization will never come at all because it never existed to begin with. 

Anticlimactic, and brutally honest.

[takeurexam]

dynasty || VIII

genre:

non idol au, time travel, romance, rivals to allies to friends to lovers, crown prince to emperor taehyun, reader gets appointed as an concubine, inspired by korean history

pairing(s):

taehyun x reader

(warning, this does not reflect the REAL idols personality, and no smut will be written to respect the idol, and i am not comfortable as well, and the taehyun in this ff is not the actual taehyun)

story:

in which you, an excellent law student about to graduate collage suddenly gets dragged into the past, meeting the famous-fawned over emperor of the kang's dynansty. but you getting dragged into this mess was beyond a mystery, and it seems like you have something deep to discover. meddling with the past is a risky decision after all.

dynasty masterlist

"Im going to miss my dear rice soup." You sigh as you finish devouring your second bowl of the famous beef broth you ate at your first day in the new town.

"I'll definetely bring you some when we visit." Soobin sips on his broth after he says, he drops the bowl to the table as hums, satisfied from the taste.

Hobak then aggresively slams his third bowl to the table, "Agreed! The royal meals there are good, but sadly they despise the familiar taste of rice soup because it's 'peasent food' according to them." He sighs as he chews the remaining rice in his mouth.

"I think I leave tomorrow morning, its been a blast anyways." You giggle as you remember your experiances together exploring before you comepletely devote yourself to become a concubine.

Being a concubine is ass, but it will all become worth it once you become successful. You might even become the empress! And the advantage of knowing the future emperor personally would be pretty cool to use around the palace.

"Well, its getting dark, so we should head back." Soobin looks around at the dark orange sky covering the bright blue sky a few hours ago. You and Hobak nod as the three of you pay up for your meals, and probably your last rice soup for a while as you three head back to Soobin's residence.

While the three of you walk down the dirt path, lit up by the lanterns hanging around the houses around the area, you three strike a coversation.

"Hey, what are you two planning for the future?" You cross your arms, "I'm pretty curious."

"Honestly for me, I probably plan to work in the palace one day in the royal court. I hate the palace, but I want my parents to be proud of me." Soobin mumbles as his fingers reach his chin.

"Me? Probably be a person with high status or something." Hobak grins, "Being rich is cool." He giggles along with you, as raise your palm for a high-five.

You three stop on your tracks as Hobak raises a brow at your action, "Oh, yeah, you dont know." You clear your throat, "This is a high-five, you just raise your hand and clasp your palm to another person." You demonstrate with your two hands as the two men watch, astonished.

"Thats cool! High-five." Hobak does it with you as you both laugh. "You got it!"

"We learn so much from you. Its as if you have an advanced mind- living in the future." Soobin chuckles as you laugh hard, "What if I am?" You smirk.

"What?" Soobin pauses.

"Nothing!"

The three of you laughed it off as you called it a night, as the three of you enjoy the moment in hand, late night laughter along with your friends felt like a blessing in disguise.

"Psst!"

"This gives me deja vu."

"Same." You reply as you feel the gears of your brains moving as you wake up, feeling a sense of deja vu from this very moment. "Reminds me of mom." You keep your eyes closed, and cant tell who the two people were waking you up.

Immediately remembering you had to move in to the palace today, you quickly sit up and open your eyes to see Soobin and Hobak sitting beside your matress, already dressed up.

"Shes up." Hobak snaps his fingers right at your face, as you blink several times. "Some ladies are coming to dress you up for today, so you have to wake up and mentally prepare yourself."

"What?"

You were not informed of this beforehand as you stood in one of the rooms of the house meant for dressing up- your dress stood infront of you as some court ladies bowed beside it as Soobin stood beside you.

"It fits you." He laughs as you feel yourself merge with the floor, feeling deadpanned. "I'll be heading out with Hobak now. We'll be watching you on your way." He pats your back as you still sink.

"Oh, by the way." Soobin whispers, covering your ear with his hand, "These court ladies are from Daedo. I requested some women I know from Daedo to my brother to ensure you have a nice experiance."

"Woah?" Your mouth agapes, "You really are something, Choi Soobin." You hit him gently in the chest as he laughs before stepping out of the room.

You look at the beautiful outift infront of you- a hanbok with a red top and a shade of dark blue for the skirt. The skirt is decorated with printed flowers below, and the top with printed flowers around the collar and doves.

"Oh-kay!" You look at it mesmerized, with your mouth dropped to the floor, "Pure harmony! I'll totally serve wearing this." You step closer and take closer looks around it, admiring it even deeper. "Are you ready, My Lady?" The court ladies ask.

"I'm ready." You nod at the court ladies as they prepare you to wear the beautiful outfit for your first day. They wrap the robes around you as you stand there like the letter 'T' as you watch them wrap you as if you were a sushi roll.

They shower your hair with accesories, along with your face- making it look more alive than it was before. It made you glow like the sun as your beauty shined through out the room.

"You're glowing, My Lady." One of the court ladies smile as you nod, "Agreed. Your hardwork paid off!" You look into the mirror right infront of you as you gently touch your face, as if you were a delicate item.

"I will serve bad bitch up here." You let out an horrendous giggle as you keep looking at the mirror, admiring yourself- as the court ladies think about getting you checked to the royal physician later on.

General Beomgyu prepared his horse as he watched the other men working on your palanquin, making it well designed and fit for you. He watched as his cousin's palanquin also sat beside yours, as she was getting ready too inside the house.

He sighed, hoping his plan will be executed correctly by you. He hopes you could replace the empress soon enough and eliminate the remaining pieces of the Cheol family from the royal palace and change the course of the country.

"General Beomgyu~!" You sing out as you rest an elbow on his shoulder, as he shaked up a little at your unannounced arrival. "You really owe me some rice soup soon." You sigh heavily, "Rest assured, your name will not be in shambles as long as I am your representaitve." You dramatically cover your hand on top of your head, taking in the moment.

"Are you always this dramatic?" He lets you do your moment as he continued standing there like he was before. You remove your elbow from his shoulder as you look infront of you. "Is that a parade float?" You eye it carefully.

"Palaquin." The General corrects you. "Uh huh. Okay, okay." You nod as you turn your head to the other palaquin beside you, "Who is that for?" You point towards it.

He crosses his arms, "Concubine Choi." The name dosent ring a bell for you, not that you've heard it on your history lectures.

"Is she your sister?" You tilt your head, still looking at the palaquin. "Cousin. She is my father's selected concubine to offer." He answers.

"Cool." You nod, looking back at the General beside you, checking him out as he wore his usual black armor and his ponytail. "You're returning too then, how cool." You ramble on, speaking to yourself while Beomgyu wished he could just make you shut up, but he was kind enough to not do anything to you.

A moment of silence washes between you two, as you think hard. "If I were to change the flow of history, what would happen?" You widen your eyes, "I did speculate that I may have been sent here for a purpose, and usually in k-dramas they do something to change the flow of history or something."

Beomgyu notices you making weird faces, but he ignores you thinking you were just on the first stage of insanity.

He hears some court ladies giggling to themselves, and he assumes the concubine he mentioned was finished getting ready. You dont notice as you stare into space that some ladies were making such noise, as Concubine Choi merely ignored the two, and walked over to her palaquin.

"General, it is time to take our leave." A Eunuch suddenly appears beside him. He nods and orders the eunuch's to prepare the palaquin for you.

"Oh, we're leaving." You stretch along with a yawn loudly, "Is there like a parade or something?" You click your tongue.

"Please get on the palaquin." Beomgyu coldly glares as you shiver and seek assistance from the Eunuch's and get on the palaquin, which was well decorated.

The palaquin was simple, yet it gives off a impression, with the beautiful silk curtains, the paintings- it is almost near to perfection, for you, of course.

You spread your legs out of habit as you make yourself comfortable, feeling the advantages of being a silver spoon.

All palaquins gathered their way to the palace, with the people of the town watching and talking about the ladies.

"Oh- Hobak and Soobin!" You wave at the two standing in the crowd as they wave back, as you make sure to flash them a wide grin.

"This is the life." You sink into the seat as you waited for the palaquin to reach its designated location for you. You raise your arms to the back of your head and lean over them, with your legs stretched.

Somehow, you fell asleep.

So here you are now, inside your now assigned chamber, as it was decorated nicely and simple, and since you weren't officially an imperial concubine, their chambers are way fancier than the one you were residing in.

You heard that General Beomgyu carried you over to your chambers, since the real gathering was still tomorrow morning, and you all arrived about at sunset- he let you sleep soundly, but you were now wide awake.

"Im already missing my rice soup." You feel boredom take over you as you sigh and rest the side of your face into the table, "This is so boring."

"Why did I even agree to this in the first place?" You begin talking to yourself, trying to make up the emptiness you felt, "If I wasn't dragged to the past I would've been a lawyer by now. Saving cases... blabla..."

"What am I even supposed to do in this timeline? I'm literally just a normal person that cant fix their problem in the past or something." You murmur as you finger comb your hair, feeling grief.

"I miss my apartment, my soju, my friends, my bird, my phone and my albums." You sit up properly and palm your hands together, lowering your head.

You hear a knock at your door, "Come in!" You shout.

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taglist: (open!)

@stormy1408

a/n: sorry for the short chapter LOL im pretty busy nowadays, but i'll make sure to update <3

see you next time, @takeurexam

[deathblossomed]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒

@thuganomxcs : “ please, tell me why you’re upset. tell me who did this? ” Soft Angst

𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, when Botan shows up at Yusuke's door, it's a fun surprise. She's bored -- or hungry -- or she was near by. But sometimes it's because she doesn't know where to go. Usually, it's because she's had a hard day at work and the presence of someone warm and alive is a comfort. She trusts Yusuke to put on a movie and make her a snack and let her lean against him until she feels better. He's good like that. She feels safe at his side.

And usually that's enough, she just needs time to calm down. But when she showed up at his door, the smile she put on fell a little flat. She's never been very good at hiding her emotions and Yusuke's someone she's never been able to lie too.

He let her inside and she sat quietly on his couch, insisting she's fine, just a long day, all the while twisting her hair around her finger anxiously. But he's not letting up. He asks her, even says please and she knows she's sunk.

"It's-- it's not a big deal. It's stupid," she mumbles, eyes lowered. "I just-- Koenma's been giving me more responsibilities lately. With everything that happened, the palace is a mess. And he's been having me work in the offices, trying to go through thousands of years worth of records to sort out the mess his father caused and get everything back on track. And I don't mind it. My hours are more regular since I'm not ferrying as much and that means I get to come here more often. And I like helping. He says it's because I'm more familiar with the other realms, on a personal level, then most of the others. So he trusts my judgement," she smiles a little, still sheepish, but she's proud to be important and helpful to her home and to her friends. But she chews her lip.

"So I've been spending a lot more time in the archives. And today-- I was coming out and I overheard people talking... I know it's stupid, and I shouldn't care what others think. And I should have just walked away but... I heard them say my name," she sniffs a little. "They were saying how... weird it is that Koenma appointed someone like me into an advisor position. I mean, they're right, I'm still young and I'm just a ferry girl. And I haven't even been doing it that long in comparison to the other girls. But.. one of them said that she was glad I was out of rotation. Because every time I come in... she can practically smell the yoki on me. They just kept talking about how it's so weird that I spend more time with demons and humans than I do with my own kind. And I guess one of them was an SDF officer, and... he started talking about you being a Mazoku and that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with you. And that made me really mad. They don't even know you! You're my friend, why does it matter what world you come from."

Botan's twisting her hair tightly around her fingers and there are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She pulls her knees up and hugs them to her chest, hiding in herself. "I know it's stupid. And I shouldn't care what they think because I'm happy with how things are. I like coming here. And it's not like I was that popular to begin with... But I don't understand why it's so wrong. And I hate hearing people talk badly about you and the others. A lot of people back home look down on the other realms, that's why Enma was able to get away with everything for so long. But you helped save everyone! Even Reikai! Maybe I'm just.. being dumb. Like I'm a kid getting picked on in school... I'm an adult, it shouldn't matter. And... it's not the first time I've heard stuff like that."

She looks back at Yusuke and tries to smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all of that on you. I'm okay, really. I just.. I always feel better after I come here."

[anachronismstellar]

Wip Wednesday - 21/08

Heeeello people!

What's this?? Me posting before next Wednesday?? A miracle for sure lol

Here are my sentences for Waltz for the Dead!

Tagging: @zyrafowe-sny @aparticularbandit @post-and-out @eriquin @somefishycat @enigma-the-mysterious @kalira @whimsicalmeerkat @wizisbored

Thank you so much for all the tags and love you guys are giving this fic gnsbakfnsk ;u;♡ I still don't know where I'm going with it but I'm having a hell lot of fun lol

Sentences under the cut!

He could start to see why Lan Sizhui said he had bitten more than he could chew.

-----------

“I hope you enjoy your stay, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-zongzhu said with a shallow bow, but a bow anyway, making all hairs in Jingyi's neck stand up.

One thing was an encounter at a small inn in Cayin City, another thing together was to walk around into the lion’s den, guided by the lion himself, as Nie-zongzhu softly pointed the directions for the mail hall and the gardens with a carp pond.

“No bunnies, I'm afraid, there's too many hawks flying around, it wouldn't be wise to raise them,” Nie-zongzhu said as a thrown away comment, half of his face hidden behind his fan.

Was it a threat? It kinda felt like a threat. Should he send a butterfly to Hanguang-Jun? Maybe. Maybe he should send one to Sizhui. He was going to send one anyway to tell him he arrived well. Too bad it would be followed by him telling he was going to die.

“And here we are.” Nie-zongzhu stopped in front of his rooms, the wing decorated with soft whites and blues. Lan Jingyi looked around, unable to not feel impressed by Nie-zongzhu decoration abilities, when he started to notice that most of them were picked with one particular Lan in mind. His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he opened the door, the room a shocking mirror to Hanshi, down to the furniture.

“I believe it is up to the Lan Sect rules. It hasn't been touched for many years.” Nie-zongzhu fanned his face at a leisurely pace, not even glancing inside the room. “If Lan-gongzi has any requests, he shouldn't hesitate to ask.”

Lan Jingyi swallowed hard, not daring to enter the room. Outside, wind howled at the mountain, bringing in a chill to freeze his bones, but even so he could feel his Lan ribbon dampening with sweat.

He couldn't accept Zewu-Jun's old rooms!

“Nie-zongzhu is most kind.” He fumbled as he took a step back to properly bow to the other. “However, I couldn't accept such an offer. These are the rooms proper of a Sect Leader, I-”

“Are you not the heir of the Lan Clan?” Nie-zongzhu interrupted him while Jingyi tried to find words to get himself out of this diplomatic disaster. If he weren't so anxious he would be furious at Nie-zongzhu for putting him in this situation. “Therefore, as the representative of the Lan during this conference, the rooms are yours.”

“But- What if Hanguang-Jun-”

“Hanguang-Jun and Wei-gongzi are going to be allocated to a more private part of the palace when they arrive.” Nie-zongzhu didn't explicitly say why, but Lan Jingyi and any poor soul that ever adventured around Jingshi late at night was aware of the couple's… Behavior. Their shamelessness was the worst kept Lan secret, but to have a Sect Leader addressing it so openly was… Uncomfortable.

“Either way-” Nie-zongzhu kept talking, pretending not to see Jingyi fidgeting. “These rooms were built to accommodate the Lan representative, and you're more than welcome to use them. The choice is yours, but if you feel inclined to change rooms, just send word to Nie Yuan, he is the one responsible for accommodations.”

Why, though? Jingyi couldn’t help but fret, holding back his wish to shake Nie-zongzhu by the shoulders and scream. Why are you being so deferential towards me?! Of all people, why me?!

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

That's it folks! See you next Wednesday! :D

[arcadejohn127-9]

Can we get the brothers and undatables being at one of Diavolos parties and a nobles starts telling MC that The brothers and undatables don’t really care about them. They start telling them that they are just Diavolos pawn and Lilliths replacement. BTW I love your writing it’s honestly some of my favorite pieces in the fandom.

Some of-of your f-favourite pieces in the fandom??!! Um Chile anyways- OMG!! Y'all are too sweet to me!!! Thank you so much!

I'm not going to lie, I got shocked when I saw another requested this as I just finished writing section for this ask but my brain is dumb and really focused on one sentence and read it utterly wrong

Part 2 - ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"ah, so you're the human I've been hearing so much about."

You turned around to see a Noble, you bowed at him with a smile.

"oh- hello, who are you? If the human you've been hearing about is (Y/N) then Yep! That's me!"

"splendid! I'm so glad I finally get to meet you, I've heard so much from Diavolo and news sources, you wouldn't mind humouring me for a dance and talk?"

"it'll be my honour." You took his arm, letting him guide you to the dance floor.

You could feel the brothers eyes on you, watching closely to how you rested your hands on the demons shoulder. All of them slowly stalking as you two danced.

"what is it like being a human in the Devildom?"

"scary...at first but now I feel like it's my home! I really can't imagine being anywhere else."

"free housings, connections to the most powerful beings in this realm and outside, pacts with the the 7 brothers and having them do anything you desire."

"I mean- I guess? It's nothing like that or that I'm using them, it's a long story - I love them all very much."

"you may not be using them but they're definitely using you, we're demons after all and there is nothing more precious to us than a soul likes yours."

You were suddenly pulled through the crowd, his dancing becoming quicker and sharp as if sensing the brothers watching him.

"don't you realize you're just the princes pawn? A small piece of a puzzle of his 'plans' - do you really think a demon of his importance would really care about bringing peace?! It's all but a ruse and you're just helping him fulfil it."

"that's not true! Diavolo is a kind and thoughtful man, he wants peace and I will be a stepping stone for that to happen - after all I am a link to all three realms."

"human with demon pacts and ancestral connections to both the brothers and angels - how is it being the ancestor to Lilith? I heard she was a real doll but such a shame she risked it all for some moral, have they ever compared you two?"

"how do you know about my ancestor? They've- never properly made a comparison and I'm sure they mean it in an affectionate way-!"

"don't you ever feel like a replacement? I heard since the discovery they've treated you even better, that can't be a coincidence."

Your blood went cold as your heart collapsed into your stomach. Your eyes glancing to the brothers In the distance. You knew he wasn't right but apart of you was scared. After all, he knew so much that you didn't think anyone outside of your social circle would know. How did he know all this?

"we went through something really traumatic together, it was bound to make us closer-"

"just admit it, you know you're being use but you just won't accept it because you're scared of facing and truth and being left - is there something unpleasant waiting for you in the human world? Is that why you're so willing to be preyed upon?"

"it's not like that..."

He suddenly dipped you, you clutched to his shoulder as tears glazed your eyes.

"isn't it? Can you confidently say it isn't?"

"yes.." your voice came out shaky and distant, you wanted to be confident but you couldn't.

"they don't care about you, all they want is to use you, make it easier on yourself and leave, run as fast as you can and never come back to the devildom."

Lucifer:

He was the first to reach you after your dance with the Noble

He twirled you so you would face him

"what did he say to you? You're crying."

"it's nothing..."

He opened his mouth to press on but he saw you grit your teeth

Glaring at the dance floor as you two stepped to the music

"If he threatened you then I'll handle him, it's no issue for me to do so."

You just shook your head

"stop being so overprotective, I know you don't actually like having to look after me, just stop forcing yourself."

"That's not true, I look after you because I care about you, it's become more than a duty."

You just clicked your tongue, pushing yourself away from him, disappearing into the crowd

Mammon:

Mammon held your hand, hugging you from behind as you two swayed

"You don't look too happy, are you overwhelmed?"

"I am now that you're here."

Which wasn't a lie, you felt so conflicted and betrayed, having him around just made you want to cry

He frowned, spinning you around

"oi, what's that all about? If I did something you gotta be honest with me,I swear I didn't steal nothing."

"I'd prefer it if you did, then being mad at you wouldn't feel so horrible."

He raised a brow

He was completely confused on why you were acting like this

"Was it that noble guy? Did he say something to you? I swear when I find him-"

You shook your head, moving away from him

"You're not going to do anything, you're a coward - just stop pestering me."

You felt awful but you didn't do anything to fix it, just running away from the shocked demon

Levithan:

"You here to take a break? Join you, I will."

He pointed to the empty spot smiling at himself for his Yoda voice

You wanted to feel bad but right now you were extremely upset

"Yeah, I do, I don't want to be around anyone right now."

"I get that but Lucifer said someone's has to be with you but I don't blame you for not wanting me to do it-"

You snarled

"can you not make this about you?! I just don't wanna deal with anymore demons!"

You shuffled closer into yourself, eyes subconsciously finding the noble you talked to

Levi followed your gaze, his Insecure angst turning into annoyance

"That noble did something....it's okay to speak up, we can go to prince-"

"go away! I don't want to keep hearing you pretend to care about me!"

He was stunned

You suddenly stood up and trudged away from Levi, seeking out the bathroom

Satan:

You ducked away from the crowd of demons

Sticking close to the wall as you clutched your arms

The nobles clawing at your mind as you stared to the side

"Did you enjoy the dancing? You look tired, I know a good hiding spot."

"Where is it?"

"I'll take you there-"

He went to grab your shoulder but you just shrugged him away

Not daring to look at him

"just tell me where it is, I'll get there on my own just fine."

Satan turned his head, trying to get a better look at your expression

But you just stepped away from him

"if you're not going to tell me I'm going to go find it myself-"

He grabbed your wrist, cutting you off

"Was it that noble? What did he say to you?"

His anger flared as he glared at the noble

You Yanked your wrist away, frowning

"wouldn't you like to know?! Just let me- just let me breathe-!"

He paused, inhaling a deep breath

You took that moment to run off, wanting to escape the situation

Asmodeus:

"oh (Y/N)~!! I'm so glad you're finally free, when I saw that guy dancing with you I got so jealous, I thought you were going to give me all your dances?"

He playfully pouted whilst holding your hands

When he saw you weren't smiling his chipper mood immediately dropped

You moved away from him, Unable to pull your thoughts together

"what's wrong..? Did he say something?"

You shook your head

Should you tell him? But what if they treat you different?

What if it really is all a fake?

"I just need to get some air."

"oh! I'll come with you!"

He springed up, grabbing your hand once again

You threw yourself back in panick

"NO-! I mean- no thank you."

You quickly dashed to the nearest balcony ignoring the murmurs in the ballroom

Beezlebub:

You bumped into one of the many buffet tables

Avoiding an active ballroom wasn't easy

"you're not dancing anymore? Want to sit with me?"

You jumped, somehow surprised Beel was at a buffet table

"no....I'm good, I'm going to the dorm."

"Already? Do you need me to walk you home? It's pretty late."

You shook your head

You wanted to chew him out for being so kind of you

Your overwhelming emotions rising as you tried to stay dismissive

"Just tell the Brothers I'm leaving, I think I'm going to head back home."

Beel raised a brow

You looked away from his confused expression

"my real home, I need to leave the Devildom."

"you're upset from your dance with the noble, we can talk about instead of you leaving-"

"I need a break."

You repeated, your voice becoming irritated and cold

You held back your frustration and left the party

Belphegor:

"Are you leaving?"

You yelped, knocking your hand on the main door

You just wanted to slip out of the party but it seems you'd have to confront one of the brothers

Belphegor yawned, rubbing his eye

He was sleeping in the coat closet until you woke him up by your footsteps

"yes- I'm tired of this party."

"I'm tired aswell, let's go together, I'm ready to sleep."

He shuffled out of the closet but you put your hands out Infront of you

"go sleep in the palace, I don't want to be around you or-or any of you-!"

"Was it that noble? I felt jealous when I saw you two dancing together but now it seems I shouldn't of, he said something to you, didn't he? What did he say?"

You didn't even realize he saw you or was awake when that happened

You backed up until you bumped into the door

Belphegor cornered you

Wanting his questions answered but you just shoved him back

"leave me alone-! I know you're just see me as an replacement!"

You slammed the door after you and sprinted back to the dorms

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

"I see you're expanding your circle, I'm glad- why do you look so upset?"

"it's nothing, my Lord-"

You both stopped

You haven't referred to him like that since the beginning of the exchange program

He leaned down to get a better look at you, eyes darting over the conflicted and slightly Horrified expression

Both of your gazes landed on the noble

"What did he say to you? If he made you uncomfortable or threatened you, I'll deal with this-"

He tried to give you a comforting pat on the shoulder but you pushed your body away

"Quit it! Stop trying to act like you care."

You were sure if people saw your interaction they'd be glaring at you

Thinking of your audacity

But Diavolo was worried about you

He knew that Nobel has hurt you

"I do care for you, we all do - please tell me what happened."

You covered your ears, tears pricking your eyes

You shook your head and ran away

Needing space to figure out your thoughts and your emotions

Barbatos:

You trudged past Everyone, growing irritated with yourself

Were you really going to believe that guy? But it seemed to make sense

If it wasn't right then why did you feel this way?

"here, you look as if you need it."

He hands you a handkerchief

You took it slowly, looking at him with distrust

You frowned as he just smiled at you patiently

"why do you even care? Is it because of the prince?"

"I'm simply helping because I desire to, it seems Someone is causing an issue with you."

"Don't you know everything? You should know exactly what's wrong....you don't have to keep acting all vague in hopes it'll throw me off, I know you all are-"

He tilted his head, eyes squinting with an almost annoyed expression

"nevermind....Just leave me alone."

"I will but it is best to remind you that the Noble you're trusting Is not the type of man you want to be around, he is using you not the other way round."

Your froze

Unsure how to respond, you clutched the handkerchief as you gritted your teeth

You quickly ran off not wanting to confront your emotions

Solomon:

Isn't this Fun? I've even made a few pacts whilst here-"

"why are we even here? Do you ever feel like we're not actually wanted? Just being used?"

Your eyes flickered between Diavolo and the noble

Rubbing your arm as you tried to soothe yourself

Solomon followed your eyes

Clicking his tongue

"I see, that nobles gotten to your head, don't fear my apprentice, I'll fix this."

He rolled up his sleeves but you just grabbed his arm

You felt stupid for thinking you two could be on the same thought process

Was it really just the Nobel Getting to you???

But what you're feeling feels so real and so genuine - this feeling of just being a pawn or a replacement to them

"No...it's silly to think we'd be on the same page, they have much more history with you meanwhile all I have is being their sister's ancestor."

You walked off leaving the wizard to mewl over your words

You didn't stay to find out what would happen now that Solomon knew the gist of what the Nobel said to you

Simeon:

As you charged away from the party you suddenly bumped into Someone

Simeon grabbed your arms as he steadied you

But that's when he noticed your teary eyes

"Oh, what's wrong? You look upset."

"I want to leave this party."

You frowned, holding his arms whilst he held you

You glanced at the demons on the dance floor

"Are you sure? The brothers will be upset with your sudden disappearance-"

You huffed

Pushing yourself away from Simeon as. got ready to just leave by yourself

"if you don't take me back then I'll just go myself."

He was caught off by your sudden change in mood

Realizing something really harsh must of happened he grabbed your hands and wiped under your eye

"Wipe your tears, I'm sure Luke will be thrilled to see you in purgatory hall."

And just like that he walked you out of ball

A few shouts from the brothers rang in your eyes but you just sped up your pace

[bang-tan-bitches]

Title: Beloved

Word Count: 17.4k

Rating: M

Genre: Drama/Thriller/Smut

Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Violence, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Hint of Dubious Consent, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cream Pie, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Mild Dirty Talk 

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi X Reader

Summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

Written By: Admin B

Note: This was entirely inspired by Daechwita and everyone should thank A for indulging my madness and encouraging me

“Are you even listening to me?”

 You jerk at the sound of your younger sister’s voice, the long carriage ride has made you sleepy. You glance over at her and give her an indulgent smile, “I’m sorry, darling. I can only listen to you wax poetic about his Imperial Highness’ esteemed looks for so long before I lose interest.”

You can’t help but laugh when Ara snaps her fan closed and tries to hit you with it, but you block it with your own fan.

“Stop or you’ll wrinkle your dress!” You giggle, “Then what will his majesty think of you?!”

She sits back in her seat, but you can see her eyes are shining with laughter. She looks positively breathtaking in her pale pink ceremonial dress. Her hair is beautifully styled with pearls and ribbons laced throughout. Her maids really made her as eye catching as possible. When the decree was first announced that all single ladies of marriageable age were invited to the palace on behalf of the imperial princess to find a bride for his majesty, you were concerned. You know Ara had fallen hopelessly in love with the emperor the one and only time she saw him, having begged father to take her to court with him two years prior. Ever since then she had this fairy tale dream in her head that they were meant to be together and you were terribly afraid of her getting hurt. 

“He really is beautiful,” her eyes are dreamy as she glances out the carriage window, “did I tell you how his hair is so pale that it practically shines like moonlight?”

“Yes, yes,” the sarcasm clear in your voice, “He is the most handsome and benevolent ruler our land has ever seen!” 

“He is,” you sister insists, “even with the scar!”

“He has a scar? I thought that was just a rumor.” You look out the carriage window to see how far you are from the palace. The ride seemed longer than usual, but that could have just been your boredom with the topic. You had no interest in politics - not that that had stopped your father from teaching you - and avoided going to court as much as possible. You had never even been in the presence of the emperor or the imperial princess. Ara had no interest in politics either, but that didn’t stop her dreams of becoming Empress.

“Oh! It’s not a rumor!” Your sister straightens her posture, “There’s a scar that covers his right eye! He got it during the great war when he was still the crown prince.”

“Why didn’t he -”

“Why didn’t he have the Imperial healers treat him and remove the scar?” Your sister cuts you off before you can finish your question, “He wanted a reminder to never show leniency. He was betrayed by some of his own men that weren’t loyal to the crown. He slaughtered not only the betrayers, but also their entire families.”

You furrow your brows and fix the long sleeves of your ceremonial dress, uncomfortable with the emperor’s apparent brutality, “Sounds cruel.”

“It’s not cruel. He had to ensure that no one would try to get revenge. He was protecting our kingdom from those that would try to take it!”

“Of course, of course,” you placate your sister and roll your eyes at her fervent defense of his highness.

“Don’t roll your eyes, I’m terribly sorry everyone can’t be as noble as your dear Namjoon.”

You frown, “First of all, he is Lord Kim and he deserves your respect. Secondly, he isn’t my dear anything. Nothing has been finalized. There has only been talk of marriage, but no contracts are in place.”

Ara scoffs, “Everyone knows he absolutely adores you. His eyes get all big and his cheeks turn bright pink whenever he sees you.”

You smile wistfully and look down at your lap, “He is rather adorable.”

“Mmmhmm and if it was up to him you would already be married and probably with child.”

“Ara, it is impolite to discuss such things.” You scold gently, “What if someone overheard you?”

“Who?” Ara dramatically looks around the carriage before resting back against her seat, “Who can possibly hear us? There is only me and you in this carriage. No one is going to hear us.”

“Still, you need to be appropriate, you cannot slip up at the palace.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, Ara with closed eyes gently fanning herself while you contemplate how to bring up what’s been weighing heavily on your mind. Your younger sister was spoiled and had always gotten her way, even you were guilty of indulging her every whim. You were terribly worried that she would not adjust to court life well. Your understanding was that the women could be even more vicious than the men and you needed to prepare her.

You chew your lip before deciding to broach the delicate topic, “I heard another rumor about your emperor.”

“Mmm… what’s that?” Ara opens one eye to look at you.

“I heard,” you lean forward and lower your voice, “that his harem is… extensive.”

Ara pouts adorably, “It is. Apparently he has over 300 concubines.”

“300? That has to be an exaggeration. No man would want 300 concubines. Although,” you continue quietly, “he is the emperor and a large harem would show off his wealth and power. Does he have a favorite among them?”

“Ugh,” you watch Ara’s eyes darken in anger, “Concubine Nam In-Suk. She is his favored concubine and I heard the only reason she wasn’t named his empress is because Imperial Princess Min would not allow it.”

“Why would the emperor care what his elder sister thinks?” You already know the answers to all these questions, but you hope that asking them will help Ara realize what she needs to do to secure her place as empress. The carriage starts to slow, you were almost to the palace and wouldn’t have much time alone to prepare her going forward and no time alone once you’d arrived.

“She is his advisor and closest confidant. He trusts her with everything.”

“Ara,” you grab your sister’s hand and give her a meaningful look, “It is very important that you gain the favor of Imperial Princess Min. If you have her blessing, you will not be denied. Most of the silly girls will be striving for Emperor Min’s attention, not realizing that the imperial princess is making the final choice.”

Ara nods her head, determined. “I will gain her favor.”

“Also,” you know she will hate what you are about to suggest, but it has to be done, “You need to become friendly with Concubine Nam.”

“Never!” Ara gasps and tries to pull away, “As soon as I’m chosen as empress I will make him disband his harem!”

“Ara, you cannot!” You lean close and let the severity of your demand bleed into your tone, “You must become friendly and show you are not a threat.” 

“But I am a threat…” she pushes her lip out in a pout. 

You squeeze her hand, “I know, darling. But court politics are not that different from bedroom politics. He will not get rid of his harem just because you demand it. If Concubine Nam thinks she can manipulate and play you, she will be less of a threat. She has his ear and his favor. Let them think you are stupid little girl with stars in her eyes. It will bend them to your will.”

 “But,” Ara’s voice is quiet, “I want him to love only me.”

“Oh my beloved Ara,” you hold her close to you, “these things take time. Once you bed him and provide an heir, you will secure your place at his side. He will have to love and cherish only you. How could he not?”

Her smile is blinding when the carriage stops outside the palace gates. 

-0-0-0-

“Relax,” you whisper, “you are the most beautiful lady here. You have nothing to fear.”

Ara releases her bottom lip and nods subtly. When you had arrived at the palace earlier that day, you were welcomed inside to a large hall filled with other single young ladies and their chaperones, all from the most prominent families in the kingdom. Imperial Princess Min herself greeted everyone and announced that a welcome banquet would be held that evening. You were then ushered to your rooms where you could refresh yourselves before the evening. The Daisy Courtyard would serve as your temporary home for the next few weeks. It was a smaller courtyard, but it was beautiful and secluded and you were thankful to learn that it was nowhere near the concubine courtyard. 

It was almost impossible to remember how quiet the courtyard was now. 

Now, in the palace banquet room awaiting the arrival of the emperor for what felt like hours with the crowd growing more restless by the minute, you dearly missed the seclusion. Imperial Princess Min was present, drinking wine and enjoying the performance of the dancers brought in for entertainment. If she was upset with the late arrival of her brother, her face did not show it.

The music abruptly stops and everyone quiets down. The large golden doors at the back of the room are opened and an imperial servant steps in, placing their fisted hand over their heart, they bow and announce, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

Everyone immediately bows, giving reverence to the Emperor. He is dressed in the darkest black with gold dangling from his ears, neck, and fingers.  His blond hair is pulled up into a high topknot and a black headband is across his forehead. 

You notice a beautiful woman trailing a few steps behind him. She is covered in diamonds. They glitter from her shiny black hair down to the long train of her bright purple ceremonial dress. The dress itself is decorated in patterns of golden tigers, matching the pattern of the emperor’s black robe.

By the clenching of Ara’s hands, you realize that this must be Concubine Nam. You discreetly nudge your sister and mouth for her to relax. 

The emperor takes his seat on his golden dragon throne, while his favored concubine sits obediently at his feet. His presence is overpowering and you can feel his displeasure radiating throughout the room.  

“So… I was told that one of you will be this emperor’s bride and empress consort.” Emperor Min’s voice is deep and controlled, but the underlying fury is unmistakable. You can feel his eyes trail over the room, “Do you really think that one of you will enrapture this emperor? Do you truly believe one of you will become my chosen?”

Everyone is deathly silent, afraid of angering his highness even more. You can feel his penetrating gaze stop on you. You did not dare look upon the face of the emperor. You knew the rules of the court. You keep your eyes lowered and wait for his eyes to move past you. 

They don’t.

You can still feel him staring at you and after several silent minutes you hesitantly look up and meet his eyes. You feel your breath catch in your throat. He is startlingly beautiful. His features are delicate but his scar provides him a hint of roguishness that accentuates his already extraordinary beauty. 

His gaze is intense and you can feel his angry aura disappear to something unreadable. His dark eyes are burning with something as a devilishly handsome smile spreads across his face.

You quickly lower your eyes and ignore the chill down your spine and the heat spreading across your face. You now understand how your sister could be so enraptured with one look. 

The emperor laughs, startling you into looking again. He’s staring at his sister and smiling. You can see Concubine Nam’s face screwed up, but staring at the floor. You look away quickly before he can feel your stare. His voice is filled with warmth and something else, something unsettling, “Maybe this emperor will finally meet his bride amongst the ladies here today. Rise and enjoy the welcome feast.”

Immediately servants present platters of food to the various tables and the music starts again. You ignore the burning gaze you feel on you and direct your attention to Ara.

“Make sure you eat. You have to be strong if you plan to carry the next heir of the kingdom.” You add more food to her plate.

“Yes, yes,” Ara giggles and pushes your hand away, “I could feel him staring in our direction. Did you feel it too?”

You force a smile, “Of course. How could he not stare at you. I told you that you were the most beautiful lady here.”

When it’s your turn to introduce yourselves to the royal family, you make sure to keep your head low and only make eye contact with Imperial Princess Min once you’re allowed to rise. Next to you, your sister does the same, following your example, even as you feel the hot eyes of the emperor on you once again. Ara pays a pretty compliment to the Princess, and you smile proudly when the Princess laughs delightedly and asks for your names. 

“Oh, I remember you. And your father.” Princess Min says, a delicate finger resting on her bottom lip. She shares a look with her brother and you can feel the hateful eyes of Concubine Nam on you and your sister. You ignore her. You needed Ara to win over Princess Min before she won the hearts of anyone else. “I look forward to getting to know you once again. Both of you.” 

You smile, and bow again before moving on to let the others greet the royal family. 

Ignoring the heavy weight of Emperor Min’s gaze, you try to keep your sister distracted and engaged during the remainder of the banquet. For every goblet of wine your sister has, you make sure she also has a goblet of water. You don’t want her embarrassing herself in front of the other eligible ladies. You relax once the emperor’s gaze is no longer focused on you and take the chance to glance towards the throne, noticing the emperor in a deep discussion with his sister. The imperial princess has a strange smile on her face and is nodding her head along to whatever his highness is saying. You also notice that Concubine Nam is nowhere to be seen.

“Where did Concubine Nam go?”

“What?” Ara quickly looks around the large hall, her voice tinged with excitement, “Concubine Nam? His highness must have sent her away.”

"Strange..” you take a delicate bite of the fresh dumplings brought out by the servants, smiling a bit at how excited Ara is to find her possible rival missing, “I thought she never left his side.”  

“Well…” Ara is interrupted by the arrival of an imperial maid. The maid bows her head respectively and holds a silver tray with a folded golden parchment.

You grab the parchment and slowly open it, quickly read the contents, fold it and place it back on the tray. “Please tell your mistress we accept.”

The maid bows and scurries away. You watch her go and keep a calm mask on your face, even as your heart is racing. You knew the point of these banquets and festivities was to find the Emperor a bride, but to receive an invitation so quickly… You notice many of the young ladies in attendance are watching and you refuse to show any sort of emotion. 

Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win. For Ara. 

Ara grabs your hand under the table where no one can see, “What was that about?”

“Ara, did you bring that pretty pale green dress that grandfather gifted you for your birthday last year?” You take a sip of your wine, and keep your tone low.

“Of course.” Ara nods her head and grabs some fruit slices from one of the platters on the table, but by the tenseness of her shoulders, you could feel her excitement. You would have to instruct her on how to hide it better. 

“Good. Wear it tomorrow.” You squeeze her hand, “we are invited to the morning meal with Imperial Princess Min.”

-0-0-0-

Imperial Princess Min’s courtyard and private rooms are absolutely gorgeous. Everything is draped in golds and pastels and smells of the fresh flowers that are placed throughout her rooms. The three of you sit at a finely crafted table in her pavilion, the only sounds are the bubbling of the large fountain nearby and the tinkling of the platters of food as they are placed upon the table before you. 

“Thank you for joining me this beautiful morning.” Princess Min smiles sweetly at you both, once you rise from your bow, gesturing for a maid to pour tea, “I do hope you enjoy the meal.”

“We are honored to be invited by her majesty for a meal. Thank you.” You bow your head reverently and sit in the chair the maid has pulled out. 

“Yes, thank you, your highness.” Your sister follows suit. The plates are quickly set with delicious smelling food, but you can only sip your tea, taking your cue from the princess who has barely glanced at her plate. 

“Tell me,” Princess Min takes a dainty sip of tea, “Are you enjoying your time at the palace?”

“It is very beautiful here. We are forever indebted to the emperor and the imperial princess for allowing us to visit.” You keep your voice soft and your sister nods along, her cheeks slightly puffed with the food she has in her mouth.

“And your rooms…” Princess Min continues, directing a maid to put some kimchi on her plate, “are they to your liking?”

“Yes your majesty. The Daisy courtyard is beautiful. Thank you for gracing us with such lovely lodgings.”

The princess inclines her head briefly and smiles, “What do you think of the emperor?”

“Oh, he is wonderful. The best ruler our empire has ever seen.” Ara gushes enthusiastically, “May our emperor live ten thousand years!”

You and Princess Min share a small smile, both seeing that Ara is completely infatuated with his highness. You take a small bite of the delicious food on your plate as Ara continues to praise the emperor. 

“And you?” Princess Min interrupts your sister and turns her gaze on you. Her dark eyes are so similar to her brother that it catches you off guard for a moment, “What do you think of the emperor?”

You didn’t understand why but you feel like your answer holds more weight than your sister’s. You lick your suddenly dry lips, smile demurely at the imperial princess and respond as blandly but nicely as possible, “His highness is a most generous and benevolent king.”

“That he is.” Princess Min smiles and glances at your sister, “And what are your thoughts on his harem?”

Your sister is quiet for a moment and you can see her struggling with finding what she wants to say, you gracefully answer for her, “I’m sure my sister would be most grateful to have others help serve the emperor.”

“Yes!” Ara nods eagerly, “I am most grateful that the emperor has many to keep him company.”

Princess Min hides a giggle behind her hand and you tilt your head, curious what could make the Princess giggle like that. 

“Indeed. You may be grateful for the… help.”

Your eyes widen but Ara continues to look confused. You share a look with the Princess before she continues, “My brother, the Emperor, has a… healthy appetite.” 

As if summoned by your discussion of him, your meal is interrupted by the arrival of a servant stepping into the pavilion, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

You and Ara quickly place down your chopsticks and stand from your seats to bow properly. 

“You may rise.” The emperor’s voice is deeper than you remember. He is dressed in an informal black robe patterned with crimson lotus flowers. Thick golden necklaces rest against his collarbones and his pale hair is pulled up into another topknot. You notice that his long, golden earrings aren’t as extravagant as the ones he wore the night before. You and Ara quickly return to your seats.

“Here is my darling sister.” The Emperor gently kisses Princess Min’s cheek before sitting in the empty chair that is placed directly across from you by a servant. “I hope you do not mind if I join you three for the morning meal.”

“Imperial Brother I can see right through you.” Princess Min giggles, “You just want to look at my pretty company.”

You feel your breath hitch when the emperor locks eyes with you, a dangerous smile pulling at his full lips, “Can you blame me? I cannot remember the last time I’ve been so enchanted.”

Princess Min smiles and glances between you and your sister, “The sisters are true beauties.”

“Indeed,” The emperor's eyes flicker to your sister before focusing back on you, “It’s refreshing to know that a father did not exaggerate his claims of his daughters’ virtues.”

"Our beauty does not dare compare to the Imperial Princess." Your sister answers perfectly, the flattery clear in her voice. You see the smile spread across Princess Min’s face, clearly pleased with Ara’s answer. 

Princess Min and Ara chatter for a while, the emperor occasionally joining the conversation, but his burning gaze never leaves your face. If anyone else notices his attention on you, they dare not mention it. You stay quiet, trying not to draw any attention away from Ara. You are proud of your sister, she is so poised as she engages in conversation with the royals. You were worried she would freeze up, or even worse, prattle on incessantly about nothing. You motion for a servant to refill your teacup and are startled when the emperor waives the servant away, refilling your cup himself. “Please, allow me.”

Everything stops around you at his actions, even the servants seem to freeze in place. You glance at your sister and the imperial princess, both completely in shock at the emperor’s generosity. Although you notice the imperial princess has a look of unbridled delight in her dark eyes.

“Thank you, your grace.” You incline your head and keep your face impassive. Only years of training drilled into you by your tutors prepared you for this. A lady must always be composed and even though you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you keep calm. You have no idea why his eminence would pour your tea as if he was your servant, but did not dare question his actions. 

The silence lasts longer than is socially acceptable and when you dare to look at him, the emperor’s eyes are already focused on you. You can feel Ara’s eyes darting between the two of you, but you can only focus on the emperor. He opens his mouth to say something when your meal is interrupted by several maids rushing into the room. His eyes release you from your trance as he looks away. 

You tell yourself that you’re grateful for the interruption. 

“Your highness!!!” They all drop to their knees once they see the emperor, their heads touching the ground, “Your highness you must hurry. Concubine Nam has collapsed!”

You glance at the maids in alarm and look back at the emperor, his brows furrowed, “Have the imperial healers been summoned?”

“Of course, your highness.” The head maid answers, rising from her bow. You realize that they must have been the personal maids of Concubine Nam. The other maids remain on their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground. 

The emperor turns away from the maids and takes a sip of his tea, dismissing them without words. You watch the head maid bite her lip before taking a step forward, “Please your highness, she is calling for you.”

You can see the displeasure on the emperor’s face. His eyes are angry, but the anger fades when he looks at you. He stares at you for a moment as if he’s waiting for your approval. You swallow and glance at the maids before meeting his gaze, “Your highness, please forgive this lowly maiden for speaking out of turn, but your beloved needs you. You should be at her side.”

“My beloved?” His voice is filled with mirth, and you wonder what is so humorous.

“Yes, your majesty.” You continue, licking your lips. His eyes follow your tongue. “Everyone knows she is your favored concubine. She needs you. You must attend to her.”

“You’re right.” His smile disarms you, again causing your breath to catch. “I must do what my beloved asks of me.”

With a swirl of his black robes, he is gone. The maids and his personal servants trailing behind him. 

The silence left by the emperor’s abrupt departure is broken by the tired sigh of the Imperial Princess. “I apologize for Imperial Brother.”

“No, no,” you immediately respond, seeing a forlorn expression on the princess’ face, “It’s alright. Concubine Nam needs him. I do hope she is alright.”

“Yes, hopefully it is nothing serious.” Your sister cannot hide the distaste in her voice at the mention of the concubine.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” The princess laughs scornfully, “Concubine Nam always pulls some sort of devious trick whenever she thinks my brother’s attention might be taken away from her.”

You glance in the direction the emperor disappeared, “Does she?”

“Yes. It’s pathetic.” 

You choke back a giggle when the princess rolls her eyes and instantly feel yourself relax. 

“She thinks she has my brother wrapped around her finger. Always throwing a tantrum or faking some sort of illness.” She sneers and shakes her head, looking at you as if confiding something, “Several months ago, when I first spoke to my brother about finding a potential bride, I thought for sure that she would do something then, but it looks like the little bitch was just biding her time.”

“That is terrible.” If Ara is shocked at the vulgar language used by the princess, her face doesn’t show it. She is calm and poised and while you know she has a million questions she wants to ask, she is keeping her composure until the two of you are alone in your courtyard. “Hopefully his highness sees through her tricks.”

“She’s not half as clever as she thinks she is. He knows exactly what she is doing, but he indulges her.”

“I’m sure his majesty has his reasons,” you smile at the princess, “have faith in your brother.”

Princess Min stares at you, a contemplative look on her face. You don’t know what she is looking for, but after a few quiet moments she smiles beautifully, “Yes. Of course, you’re right. I have faith in the emperor. He was chosen by the gods to rule our kingdom.”

“May he live ten thousand years.” Ara says solemnly. You and Princess Min murmur in agreement.

“Still,” Princess Min’s voice is resolute as she gestures for a maid to refill her tea cup, “Concubine Nam cannot be trusted. Be careful.”

You sip your tea, pushing thoughts of the emperor’s dark eyes to the back of your mind and wonder just how much danger your sister is in.

-0-0-0-

When you return to your courtyard, servants are rushing around packing your trunks..

“Excuse me,” you feel bad interrupting one of the maids, but you have no idea what is going on and can’t help but fear the worst, “what is happening?”

“My lady,” the maid bows her head, “we have orders to move you and your sister to the Golden Bell courtyard.”

You frown and watch the servants continue to carry out your things, Ara clutches your hand, “On whose orders?”

“His Royal Highness.”

“As you were.” You dismiss the maid and turn towards Ara. You can see the excitement in her eyes. She’s practically vibrating. You nod for her to follow you out to the main yard where an imperial carriage is waiting to take you to your new courtyard.

“Sister,” She whispers, “The Golden Bell Courtyard. That’s closer to Imperial Princess Min’s private courtyard.”

“I know.”

-0-0-0-

The Golden Bell Courtyard is stunning. The main yard is filled with the fragrant Golden Bell flowers and the rooms were at least twice the size of your previous courtyard. Ara is practically giddy with excitement as she throws herself down on the large bed in the room you chose.

“He must already be in love with me.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You were surprised Ara was able to contain herself until the servants left. 

“Everything is so luxurious.”

“It is.” You sit yourself at the fancy dressing table in the corner of the room and check your reflection in the bronzed mirror, “You should get used to this.”

Ara giggles and snuggles into the soft bedding. You watch her through the mirror and smile at her behavior. She was still so young and you wish you could shelter her forever. You still worried about her marrying into the imperial family, but you felt a little better knowing that Imperial Princess Min seems to have warmed to her. “You need to thank his majesty at tonight’s banquet.” 

“Of course.” Your sister smiles and throws a soft goose feather pillow in the air, “I will make sure to thank him for his hospitality.”

-0-0-0-

Unfortunately, Emperor Min is not at the banquet that night. In fact, you were informed, for the next fourteen days he would not be attending any of the events Imperial Princess Min had scheduled.

You can tell the princess is upset. Her smile seems a little more strained and while she is able to handle everything as a hostess should, you can tell she is very stressed about whatever the emperor is currently handling. You have a strong suspicion it is related to Concubine Nam, but it is not your place to ask questions so you remain quiet. You do, however, try your best to help where you can, becoming a steadfast and loyal companion to her majesty, continuing to have meals with her whenever she requests and spending many afternoons in her pavilion with her. She would ask your opinions of the young ladies from the different households and tell you about what would be required of the empress consort. As the days moved along, the princess dismissed more and more of the potential brides for his majesty until only a handful were left. You were pleased that Ara seems to be the favorite.

You sit across from the Imperial Princess. She sent you a note at the morning meal requesting you to join her in her plum blossom garden this afternoon. You can tell the princess is upset. Her lips are pursed and her fingers are white as she grips her cup of tea tightly. You're afraid the delicate cup might crack. 

“Your majesty’s plum blossom garden is beautiful. It must be the most fragrant and lovely plum blossom garden in all of the empire.”

Imperial Princess Min gives you a soft smile. She dismisses the servants and they step back so they are out of hearing range, but close enough to see if her highness requires anything.

“Concubine Nam is with child.”

You are silent for a moment. You keep yourself composed and don’t dare show your thoughts on your face. Your mind is frantically trying to process what this means. How could this have happened? What does this mean for Ara? 

You swallow and gently speak, “Princess Min, please forgive this simple one for questioning, but I thought it was against the imperial law for a concubine to bear children?”

“It is.” Princess Min throws her tea cup on the ground in anger, two imperial maids rush over to clean up the shattered mess and prepare another cup of tea for her majesty. Once the servants step away, the Princess continues, “She stopped drinking the herbal tea the day my brother agreed to find a bride.”

“Will Concubine Nam be punished?” You don’t look at the princess when you ask, you focus on the full cup of tea in front of you.

“If she is punished, it won’t be until after she gives birth.” Princess Min takes a small bite of sweet cake, “The little bitch thinks the emperor will make her his empress consort.”

“Will he?” 

“No,” Princess Min gives you a reassuring smile, “He will choose someone most deserving.” Her eyes shift as she stares at you until you feel you have to look away. “He’s been diligently working on preparing everything for his chosen consort. That and this unfortunate incident with Concubine Nam has kept him busy.”

You feel relief to know that Concubine Nam’s schemes do not seem to be working. And from the knowing smile the princess gives you, you feel elated that Ara will definitely be chosen as the consort. “What of the child?”

“The child will be recognized as a prince of the kingdom, but not an heir. Only the Empress can provide an heir.” Princess Min still looks unhappy, “I hope this won’t affect things going forward.”

It almost sounds like a question, as if she’s asking you if it will affect things. But you know that can’t be. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This news will be upsetting to Ara, but not all is lost. This can still be salvaged. She could still marry and become the empress. Her child will still be the rightful heir. “No, I’m sure my sister will love any child that his highness produces.”

“Oh, yes, of course your sister would.” Princess Min gives you a curious smile, her dark eyes shining as if she’s amused. She takes your free hand in hers, “I hope I can request your confidence in this matter.” She says and gives your hand an almost too tight squeeze, “This must not be told to anyone.”

“Of course,” You nod your head solemnly, “I won’t say a word.”

 -0-0-0-

The Emperor continues to absent himself from any events involving the possible consorts for the next several days. Even though it had yet to be announced, you knew he had already decided on an empress consort, therefore he did not need to attend any of the lavish events and parties his sister had scheduled. Though as the days progress and nothing more happens, you grow more and more concerned over Ara’s position until finally you are moved again to an even larger, more extravagant courtyard. 

The Mugunghwa Courtyard. 

The Mugunghwa Courtyard was reserved for the empress consort and is located directly next to the emperor’s private courtyard. The servants treat you and your sister like royalty, you are given the same respects the emperor and his sister are provided. Ara is enjoying the envious glares she receives from the other ladies and you allow her to enjoy her victory, but remind her to be polite and courteous to the servants because they will be her eyes and ears to what is happening in the other courtyards(including the harem).

Soon after you’re comfortably moved into the Mugunghwa Courtyard, the gifts begin arriving. Some days when you return to your rooms after the festivities, you find fresh Mugunghwa flowers on your bed. One morning you wake up and find a bottle of sweet perfumed oil. You know that it isn’t uncommon for a groom to bestow gifts upon his bride’s family, but you’re a little uncomfortable as the days progress and the gifts become more elaborate. Silk slippers, golden hairpieces, diamond necklaces… it’s all too much. Ara has also been receiving small gifts, flowers and oils. You don’t know why, but you don’t mention the jewelry or clothing to her. 

You continue to spend time with Imperial Princess Min, her personal servants would invite you, and only you, to have a private audience with her almost daily. Once, you asked her where the emperor was, as you had not seen him since breakfast almost a week ago. She had smiled at you as if you’d said the one thing she longed to hear, and informed you he’d been out of the palace. Taking care of business. But assures you that he would return soon. 

“If you would like, we can invite him to breakfast again.” She takes your arm and giggles, as if breakfast with her brother is against the rules. “But I might get jealous if my soon-to-be sister pays more attention to my brother than me.” 

Your heart soars at her words. This is practically confirmation that Ara will be chosen!

She keeps you updated on the goings on with Concubine Nam. The child is growing strong, and Concubine Nam has already started showing a small bump on her otherwise perfect body. While you never wish harm on anyone, you cannot hide your small sense of satisfaction when you're told that Concubine Nam is visibly distraught over the fact that the emperor has not once visited her since she collapsed.

You are still very concerned about Ara finding out about the pregnancy. You have kept your word and stayed silent on the matter, but you know Ara’s bubble of happiness will burst once she is made aware. You spend many of your days touring the multiple gardens of The Mugunghwa Courtyard in contemplation, trying to decide if you should tell Ara what is happening. 

You’re taking a leisurely stroll in the hibiscus garden when you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. This happens most days when you’re alone in the gardens, but no one is ever around so you dismiss it as your imagination. You startle when you hear the emperor’s deep voice call your name.

You spin around quickly and meet the burning gaze of the emperor. He’s dressed in his signature black robe, but this one is patterned with dark blue koi fish. His pale hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with a black headband across his forehead. Today he is wearing one long golden earring and a heavy golden choker around his throat. 

You briefly wonder if he would adorn his Empress in so much gold. 

“Your highness!” You immediately remember yourself and bow low.

You are still bent low and staring at the ground when you see a long black robe come into view. You feel a gentle finger under your chin and your head is tilted up until you’re standing again and staring directly up into the emperor’s perfect face.

He continues to stare at you, his eyes swirling with emotion. His finger moves from your chin to rub along your bottom lip and your eyes close involuntarily. He leans closer and you can smell the clean scent of his skin. You feel his breath on your lips…

The sound of a throat clearing jolts you. You snap your eyes open and immediately step away from the emperor’s personal space. Emperor Min is glaring heatedly at a eunuch who is standing several feet behind him. The eunuch looks apologetic, but you are grateful. 

“Your majesty, are you also here to tour the gardens?” You can feel your cheeks heat and you absentmindedly smooth out your dress. “The hibiscus garden is especially fragrant this time of year.”

His eyes are gentle when he looks at you. He gives you a soft smile, “No. I am here to see you.”

“Me? I do not know what I have done to deserve your attention. How can I help his majesty?”

Emperor Min’s voice is serious, “You deserve more than my attention. You deserve everything.”

You turn away from his penetrating gaze, focusing on a nearby flower, “Your highness has been very kind to me and my sister. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Do not thank me.” The emperor chuckles, “I am a king. I always have an ulterior motive.”

You realize he is most likely speaking of Ara. As Ara’s elder sister, you know you have the most influence over her and her opinions. He is trying to gain your favor so she will be more likely to accept his suit, but he must know that Ara is already in love with him. Princess Min would never keep that information from him.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Another gift?” You look up at his handsome face, “I couldn’t possibly accept anything else. You’ve been so generous already.” 

Faster than you can blink, his face is so close to yours, you can feel the brush of his lips as he speaks, his hand on your chin and eyes locked with yours. 

“I am the emperor. It is my divine right to give what I want, and to take what I want. Do you understand?” 

You blink and quickly lower your eyes, unable to bow your head, “Yes, your highness.” 

He moves away and you catch yourself before you can stumble from the suddenness of it all. 

“Eunuch Ki.” Emperor Min gestures and the eunuch steps forward holding a small wooden box, golden dragons painted on it. Eunuch Ki opens the box and you cannot stop your gasp when the contents are revealed. A beautifully hand carved jade bracelet is nestled within. You can see that your name is engraved in it along with the symbols of beauty and love. 

Emperor Min holds out his hand, waiting for you to give him yours. You place your hand in his and watch quietly as he gently pushes up the sleeve of your dress. His hand is so much larger than yours and you shiver when his thumb gently rubs along your wrist.

Eunuch Ki hands him the bracelet and he tenderly clasps it around your wrist. 

“Perfect.”

 You feel something inside you stir, “It’s lovely.” 

 “Not as lovely as the wrist it adorns,” he meets your eyes, “it becomes you.” 

You know you should pull away, part of you desperately wants to pull away. But he is the Emperor, and you know better. 

“Ara loves her gifts too!” You blurt out, trying desperately to control the way your heart is pounding. 

His face scrunches in thought and he tilts his head, “Ara… yes. Your sister. I’m glad she enjoys her gifts as well.” He raises your hand, flips it in his, and places a kiss on the inside of your wrist, lips brushing the cool jade beads. “Don’t take it off.” He commands, before leaving you alone once more. 

-0-0-0-

After that, you did not go into the gardens alone, always making sure Ara or Princess Min is with you. While you never did run into the Emperor in the gardens again, you still sometimes felt his burning gaze on you, but when you looked around, he was never there.

Today, you and Ara are staying in your own courtyard. You feel that both of you need a break from court. You know you certainly do. You have already had your morning meal in your rooms and were currently relaxing in one of the many drawing rooms. You smile as Ara pricks her finger again on her needlework. “Be careful Ara. A lady's hands should be soft and delicate.”

You can’t hide your laughter at the adorable glower she gives you. “Why do I have to do this? When I’m empress, I’ll have the royal seamstresses do this for me.”

“It’s a good skill to have and maybe your husband would want a personalized gift from you.”

Ara pouts but doesn’t say anything else. You sit in comfortable silence, her trying to embroider and you snacking on small sweet cakes. The days seem to be getting slightly cooler and you were appreciative. You didn’t know how long this consort selection was going to take, but you were already longing for home. You had written several letters to your father, letting him know of Ara’s progress and wanting to hear any news from home. You were hoping maybe your marriage to Lord Kim would be finalized, but unfortunately, there was no news about that. Your father seemed to avoid mentioning Lord Kim at all. As for Lord Kim himself, you sent him a few brief letters asking after his health and wellbeing, but had yet to receive a response. He was normally very quick to reply to your letters, but you brushed off his lack of response due to the fact that he must be very busy.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of several imperial servants and a finely dressed eunuch. They are carrying two large golden trunks and place them down in front of you and your sister. The eunuch steps forward and bows low.

“My ladies,” You recognize the eunuch as the emperor’s most trusted servant, Eunuch Ki, the one who was at his side in the hibiscus garden, “His Royal Highness would be most pleased if the mistresses would accept his gifts.”

You and Ara share a look and you quickly stand from the soft, golden sofa, “Thank you, Eunuch Ki. We are honored to receive gifts from his eminence.”

The large golden trunks are opened and you can hear Ara’s gasp of delight. The emperor has provided each of you a ceremonial dress made of fine, silk fabric and beautiful hair ornaments. Ara’s dress is a gorgeous light blue patterned with silver butterflies. The matching hair ornament is a hair pin styled in beautiful swirls of silver and jade, a single butterfly resting on top.  

Your dress is colored a rich gold and patterned with black mandarin ducks, diamonds line the long sleeves and train. The matching hair ornament is also a hair pin, but it looks to be solid gold with two mandarin ducks resting on top of a bed of orchids made out of diamonds. You hesitate at the pattern on the dress, unsure if this is a mistake. 

“If it pleases the mistresses, his highness requests you wear his gifts to the Grand Banquet tomorrow evening.”

“Of course, we would be delighted.” Ara beams at Eunuch Ki when you don’t respond right away, your eyes still focused on the pattern on your dress. 

“Eunuch Ki,” you follow him to the entrance of the drawing room, your voice quiet so others cannot overhear, “I feel there might be a mistake.” You gesture to your dress and your eyes flicker towards an oblivious Ara.

Eunuch Ki eyes you for a moment, his look is heavy and almost pitying, “The Emperor does not make mistakes.”

You swallow hard and nod at Eunuch Ki, closing the door behind him and turn to look at Ara. She’s already holding the dress up against herself and admiring it in the mirror. 

The Emperor might not make mistakes, but you were beginning to think you had. 

-0-0-0-

You slowly make your way towards the courtyard of the imperial princess. After Eunuch Ki had left last night, you received a summons from the Imperial Princess. She requested you to meet her for afternoon tea the following day before the grand banquet. 

This side of the palace was oddly quiet. You knew that everyone was preparing for the grand banquet, so all the activity would be much livelier near the grand banquet hall. You had yet to see that hall, apparently it was large enough to hold all the noble families of the kingdom comfortably. 

When you enter her private pavilion, Imperial Princess Min is reclining on a giant resting sofa, a servant girl fanning her. 

“Your highness.” You bow your head reverently and wait for her to receive you.

She smiles beautifully and sits up, her dark eyes shining beautifully, as she holds her hands out to you, “I’m so glad you are here.”

“Your Highness flatters me.” You go to her, smiling as you take her hands in your own before releasing them to gesture to the ornately carved tea table in the corner, “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, we have much to discuss.” Princess Min stands up and elegantly makes her way to the table, you follow obediently behind her. Once you are both seated, Princess Min gestures for a servant to pour tea.

“Are you excited for tonight’s banquet?” Princess Min takes a sip of her tea, “I’m so very excited and the banquet isn’t even for me.”

“Of course, tonight is a grand occasion. It deserves to be celebrated properly.” You swallow a sip of tea and look around the beautiful pavilion. “Thank you so much for the hospitality you have shown my sister and I. Your kindness will never be forgotten.”

Princess Min smiles at you and chatters about the drama currently happening in the harem courtyard, Concubine Nam was still holding hope that Emperor Min would choose her as his bride, while the other concubines were furious over her blatant violation of the rules. You listen and chime in when necessary, indulging in Princess Min’s love for gossip. 

“What would you do with Concubine Nam and the harem?” Princess Min asks you, her voice curious, “How would you handle this entire scandal?”

“Well,” You ponder over her question for a moment. She had asked you similar questions before, but usually about how you would handle this political issue or that. Never one quite so close to home. You take another sip of tea, deciding how to answer without offending her, “an example would have to be made.”

“What kind of example?” Princess Min tilts her head slightly, her dark eyes swirling with something, “if you had the power, what would you do?”

“If I had the power?” You gesture for a servant to pour you another cup of tea and laugh softly, “If I had the power, my husband would not have a harem at all.”

Princess Min stares at you, her eyes practically glowing, “No harem? A normal man would not agree to your terms.”

You smile, “I will not marry just any man. I will marry a man solely devoted to me.”

The Princess giggles beautifully, “I love your way of thinking.”

“Well,” you giggle along with the princess, “My way of thinking isn’t something that is approved of. Luckily for his majesty, Ara will gladly allow him his harem.”

The princess quiets down and gestures for a servant to place a small, sweet cake on both of your plates. Her smile is sweet, “Tell me…”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head in question and take a small sip of tea.

Princess Min’s voice is light and soft, “when are you going to stop playing ignorant?”

You still completely, your stomach bubbling with dread. You keep your face calm and composed, but your heart is beating rapidly. After a brief silence, you question, “Pardon? Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re a very clever woman, it’s why I like you so much.” Her sweet smile never leaves her face, but her eyes are dark and cold. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

“No,” You keep your voice firm, “I do not know what you mean at all.”

Princess Min’s smile widens, but her dark eyes are unsettling, “Did you enjoy Imperial Brother’s latest gift?”

You slowly set your tea cup on the table, “His highness gives the most thoughtful gifts, we are forever in his debt.”

“You know, he chose the pattern and colors himself.”

“About that,” you lick your lips before continuing, “Eunuch Ki gave me the golden dress by mistake.”

“Oh you are good. For someone who claims they have no interest in court or politics, that is. Though you need a little more training before you sit in on a council.” The Princess takes a bite of cake, her eyes flashing, “I don’t recommend playing dumb with me, however.” 

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” 

The Princess ignores your remark, “Have you heard of my betrothed? Prince Regent Jung Hoseok. He’s the general of the Imperial Army.”

“Of course,” your mind frantically tries to understand where the connection is, “He has helped the emperor win many battles.”

“Did you know that he was betrothed before?”

You shake your head, but don’t reply. You have no idea what this discussion has to do with the emperor’s gifts, but you didn’t dare interrupt or question her.

“He grew up in the palace here with Imperial Brother and I. My father, the emperor at the time, practically raised him as one of his own. He was Imperial Brother’s companion and also to be his general in war. I had been in love with him since I was very young. He was all I ever wanted.” Princess Min Glances off into the distance, as if she’s reminiscing, “For his outstanding work as the General of the Imperial Army, my father gifted him a marriage to a nobleman’s daughter... Lord Tokko’s only daughter, Yeong.”

Lord Tokko’s name was vaguely familiar to you, you had heard your father mention him a few times. As for his daughter, you had never heard of this woman, but by the tone of Princess Min’s voice and the frown on her face, you know it was someone that the princess did not like.

“The Prince Regent agreed to the marriage, he actually cared for her, thought himself to be in love,” The princess scoffs and takes a small sip of tea, “It was not hard for me to get my father to agree to have Lady Yeong come to the palace to serve as a friend and companion for me.”

“She was one of the kindest, sweetest, young women I had ever met.” The Princess locks eyes with you, “So trusting that even as she lay dying, it never crossed her mind that I was the one that poisoned her.”

You're quiet for several moments, trying to gather your thoughts. Your voice is a little shaky when you finally ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

Princess Min ignores you once again, “We thought the sickness had skipped my brother. It usually only manifests itself in the women in my family, my grandmother had it too, you know?”

“What sickness?” You are growing more alarmed. The Princess was revealing information and secrets that you should not know and you did not understand her reasoning.

Again, Princess Min ignores you, continuing her story as if she were a player on stage and you the enraptured audience, “He never showed any symptoms, not a care in the world for anyone but himself. The closest he came was Concubine Nam, but nothing serious ever happened with her. He would never make her his consort, so I knew she wasn’t the one.”

“Imagine my elation when you finally arrived. You have turned out to be all we hoped for and more.” Princess Min smiles at you beautifully, her dark eyes shining almost manically, “The moment he saw you, your fate was sealed.”

Before today, having Princess Min’s confidence made you feel warm and welcomed. Now you only feel dread. 

“I.. I...” You lick your too dry lips and stumble over your words, your composure crumbling in the wake of the Imperial Princess’ confession, “I am to be married to Lord Kim. My father is working out the contracts.”

“Lord Kim?” The princess giggles, “My brother wanted to strip him and his family of their lands and titles, but I was able to talk him back from that.”

“I don’t understand.” You feel cold all over.

“Yes, you do.” The princess gestures and a maid comes forward holding a silver tray, the princess grabs the small bundle of letters and tosses them on the table, “You’re lucky that I was able to intercept these before Imperial Brother read them. If he knew you were writing to another man, he would have Lord Kim beheaded.”

You’re quiet, staring at the letters you wrote to Lord Kim asking after his health. The letters he never received. Too much was going through your mind. What about Ara?

“My father-”

“Your father has already agreed and I was able to have Imperial Brother gift a marriage to Lord Kim.”  Princess Min’s voice is pleasant, as if she's discussing the weather, “Your sister will be his bride.”

You stand abruptly from the table, your chair clattering to the floor behind you. You feel shaken and terrified. You knew something was off, but you were hoping, praying, you were wrong.

“Please excuse me, your majesty.” You step back from the table, your eyes slightly glassy, “I need to rest before tonight’s banquet.”

“Please, call me Ji-Soo…,” The princess smiles at you, her dark eyes are filled with what you now recognize as madness, the same look found in the emperor’s eyes when he looks at you, 

“..We’re family after all.”

-0-0-0-

When you arrive back at your courtyard, your mind is still struggling to comprehend what is happening. You rush past the servants and lock yourself in your room. You stare at the beautiful golden dress laid out on your bed, the diamonds twinkling as if mocking you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Ara is supposed to be empress.

You slide to the floor, your back against the door. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You stare at the dress, but your mind isn’t focused on it. You’re trying to think, trying to plan. What are you supposed to do? You don’t even entertain the thought that your father will save you. You have no choice. Emperor Min holds all the power. 

You don’t realize that hours have passed with you staring blankly at the dress until the servants knock on your door. “My lady, we are here to prepare you for the banquet.”

“I don’t need help to prepare. Please leave me.”

“My lady,” The voice of the maid is trembling, fearful, “The emperor insists.”

You swallow and stand, your legs shaky. You open the door and stare at the servants, they are terrified. Terrified of the emperor, terrified of his displeasure. You realize that you and them are not so different. No one has a choice. Everyone is subject to Emperor Min’s whims.

“Where is Ara?”

“She has already been prepared for the banquet.” Several servants rush in carrying a large washing tub filled with steaming water. The water is fragrant and several flowers are flowing on the surface. 

You watch a large dressing screen being set up around the tub, several of the servants bow low to you before quickly leaving the room. You look at them questioningly and an older maid steps forward, “Forgive us, my lady. We are under strict instructions and not allowed to help you undress or bathe.”

“What? Why?”

The maid licks her lips and hangs several white undergarments over the dressing screen, “The emperor made a new decree that it is a crime punishable by death for anyone other than the emperor himself to view the empress consort’s nude body.” 

It’s a jarring experience to be referred to as the empress consort. 

“It- it is not official.” 

You want to scream at them that this is wrong. That you’re not even betrothed, that this isn’t supposed to be you. 

They won’t meet your eyes. 

The jade bracelet on your wrist slides, warm beads against cool skin, and that’s when you realize all the mistakes you have made. You can’t stop the heavy weight you feel in your chest. You can feel your lips begin to tremble and your eyes feel watery. You don’t want to cry, but you know you should because you have the horrible feeling that once you are announced as the chosen empress consort at the banquet, the emperor will not let you out of his sight. 

The maid smooths over any imaginary wrinkles in the undergarments and gives you a pitying look, “Please get dressed in these once you are finished and we will prepare you for the banquet.” 

You’re left alone and you robotically remove your dress and undergarments. The water is hot and relaxing and it soothes your frazzled nerves. You lean your head back against the washing tub, you can hear the maids quietly talking behind the dressing screen. Your mind is racing. You are a smart girl. Your father has always praised your brilliance and forward thinking and lamented over you not being born a boy. You could figure this out. You could find a way out. 

There is obviously something seriously wrong with the Imperial siblings. The Princess herself confessed to murdering a love rival and the emperor has never shown any sign of this alleged sickness until now. Concubine Nam is carrying his child. You’ve already told Princess Min about your distaste of the harem. You refuse to have a husband that continues to keep a harem of concubines. 

But you know, you know, you could not refuse the emperor’s suit. You did not have any choice in the matter. While this is not the outcome that you nor Ara want, you know that your father will be pleased. All men want is power. They do not care for who they hurt or how they use their children like pawns. Your father will be the father-in-law of the emperor, his position and power will be secured.

The water is cold when you finally decide to step out of the washing tub. You resolve yourself to your future. Being the Empress Consort is not the worst fate you can have, but you were fearful of your sister’s reaction. She will hate you. 

You slowly put on your undergarments and step out from behind the screen. The maids eagerly rush you over to the large dressing table and sit you down. You stare at your worn reflection in the large, ornate mirror. 

Several maids kneel at your sides, dipping your fingers and toes in a dark paste. Other maids rub scented lotion onto your arms and legs. You watch through your reflection as the older maid rearranges your hair into an intricate updo, her skilled hands working effortlessly.

Your voice is a little hoarse when you speak, but you clear your throat and look at the older maid, “Will you be my personal servant?”

“Of course,” The maid gives you a warm smile, “His highness chose me personally to care for his bride.”

You give her a strained smile in return, neither of you mention the fact that the emperor chose servants that would be loyal to him. It wasn’t uncommon for a bride to bring a handful of trusted servants with them to their new home, but these aren’t normal circumstances. You would truly be alone here. “May I know your name?”

“Unso.”

“Unso.” You say the name carefully, “Please take good care of me.”

“My absolute pleasure.” She beams and gestures to your hair, the golden hairpin shining on top. The hairstyle is extravagant and more beautiful than any you have ever worn. The other maids clean the dark paste off your fingers and toes, revealing the nails to be stained a pretty red. Another servant brings a small jar of white cream and rubs it onto your face. You sit still as makeup is applied to your face. Your lips are painted a dark red and your eyes are lined with kohl. A small, delicate mugunghwa flower is painted in red and black between your eyebrows.

You stand and the maids help you dress in the beautiful golden dress. They take their time making sure everything is perfect. When you are fully dressed, the servants all stand back and stare at their hard work.

“Mistress is the most beautiful!”

“The Emperor has chosen well!”

“Her beauty is unparalleled!”

“An absolute vision!”

“His highness will be most pleased!”

The praises are interrupted by Eunuch Ki. He gives you a once over before nodding to Unso, “Excellent. Make sure everything is prepared as instructed.”

Unso nods her head and steps back.

“My lady,” Eunuch Ki bows low to you, “Please allow me to escort you to the banquet hall.”

You look around nervously, “But Ara-” 

“Your sister is already at the banquet.”

“I see.” You nod your head realizing you don’t have a choice, “I would be honored for Eunuch Ki to escort me.”

He gives you another low bow and turns to lead the way out of your rooms. Unso gives you an encouraging smile and you nod your head in return. Eunuch Ki leads you out of your courtyard to an extravagant imperial carriage. From the design and brilliance, you can tell that this is the emperor’s personal carriage. 

The ride to the grand banquet hall is quiet. You’re positive that you’re shaking in your seat. Eunuch Ki is watching you, but he doesn’t comment on your nerves. The carriage comes to a stop and the door is opened by an imperial guard. Eunuch Ki steps down first. You follow slowly behind him, all the servants and guards bowing in your presence. 

The long walk to the banquet hall seems to last seconds. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead and you are distractedly worried that all the servants' hard work on your face paint will come undone.  The closer you get to the hall, the louder the music and laughter from inside becomes. You can hear that it is a grand celebration and you worry for a moment that you are late. 

Eunuch Ki stops several feet away from the double doors. He gives you a sad smile and leans close to you, “An empress does not show fear. An empress does not show despair.”

You nod your head in understanding, straighten your back and hold your head high. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest; the expectations of the kingdom weighing on your shoulders. You can feel the sinking feeling in your stomach that Ara will never forgive you. You desperately hope she can understand. 

You do not have a choice. 

“Please open the doors.”

The large golden doors are heavy, requiring several servants to push them open. A loud chime is heard from the inside of the room. Eunuch Ki steps forward and announces your arrival, but you cannot hear him over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. 

You step forward and you can feel all eyes are on you, but the only eyes you can focus on are the emperor’s. Dark, calculating, mad. He’s not dressed in his customary black, but gold. His ceremonial robes are a bright gold patterned with black mandarin ducks, matching yours. His long hair is unbound, a glittering crown is placed upon his brow. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop. You take several slow steps into the room and make your way towards the emperor. Before you reach him, Princess Min steps forward, a handsome man you recognize as Prince Regent Jung Hoseok at her side. The couple is dressed in matching colors. Royal blue and patterned with silver bats. Princess Min leans close to you and kisses both your cheeks. She pauses to whisper a quiet, “Good Girl,” that only you can hear. Prince Regent Jung gives you a low bow.

You bow in return to the Princess and her betrothed. The room is still deathly quiet. When you finally reach the emperor, he stares at you as if you are the only thing he has ever wanted. You prepare to bow, but Emperor Min stops you, “From this moment forward, you bow to no one.”

You swallow and nod your head. Emperor Min continues staring at you, his eyes swirling with equal parts happiness and madness. Eunuch Ki steps forward holding a golden goblet. You stare at the goblet and then look at the emperor in horror. This isn’t right. You realize quickly that this is no ordinary celebration banquet. 

This is a wedding. 

You quickly look away, desperately searching for Ara. Slim fingers grip your chin tightly, you can feel the cold metal of his rings pressing into your skin. Your face is turned back to the Emperor.

“Who is the king?” His voice is quiet, but firm, “Who is the boss?”

You stare into his cold eyes. He knows he has you trapped and he knows there is nothing you can do. While you want to believe that you had reconciled yourself with your fate, you had truly hoped that you had more time to find a way out. But there is no way out.

After a few moments, you nod your head in understanding and open your mouth to accept a drink from the goblet. Emperor Min takes the goblet from Eunuch Ki and holds it to your lips. His smile is gentle, but his eyes are filled with triumph as you drink.

The rice wine is sweet but you barely taste it. You swallow a large gulp and lick your lips. The emperor’s eyes darken as he watches you and his smile widens. He gently places the goblet into your hands and you carefully hold it up to his lips. He takes several large gulps, but never breaks eye contact with you. 

Eunuch Ki grabs the goblet from you and before you know what is happening, you’re in the emperor’s embrace. One of his hands cup the back of your head as the other holds you tightly by the waist, “Finally, you’re mine.”

His kiss catches you off guard and you close your eyes involuntarily. You know that kissing is improper for a wedding ceremony and should only be done in private, but no one would dare question the emperor. His lips are soft and taste of the rice wine you just drank. When his tongue gently coaxes your lips open, you do not resist. Your fingers grip his shoulders and you cannot stop yourself from melting into him. 

When he finally releases you, you steady yourself against him. You’re in a daze as the emperor leads you to the royal table. You stand quietly at his side as he raises a glass of wine in a toast, “To my new bride, your new empress!”

The hall is filled with thunderous applause and cheering. Your moves are robotic as the emperor instructs you to sit next to him. He fills your plate with all your favorite delicacies and pours you a cup of tea. The musicians start playing music again and the murmur of conversations start up around you. You glance around the hall and realize that all the eligible young ladies that were prospective consorts are wearing matching dresses. Light blue and patterned with butterflies. The same dress that Ara was gifted.

You look around for Ara and you find her seated between your father and Lord Kim. Your father and Lord Kim seem to be in a serious conversation. Ara looks calm and composed, but her eyes betray her. You can see her unhappiness and your heart aches. 

“Beloved,” You’re jolted by the emperor’s deep, somber voice, “Don’t worry about your sister. She will be taken care of. Lord Kim will make her happy.”

It takes you a moment to respond, but you do so quietly, “My sister’s only happiness will always be with the emperor.”

The emperor glances in the direction of your sister and then turns back to you, his smile is sweet, “You are a good sister, but it’s time you put your happiness first.”

You’re puzzled, “My happiness?”

“Your happiness.” Emperor Min kisses your lips softly, “To be my bride. To be my queen. To be mine.”

You stare at him incredulously, and realize he truly believes that you are happy being his bride. He really thinks you wanted this and were only holding yourself back for Ara’s sake. Princess Min gives you a knowing smile from across the table. You sit in a daze as the night progresses. The emperor would let no other serve you, but himself, constantly refilling your plate and cup.

You can feel the angry glare of Concubine Nam on you from across the hall and when you finally meet her gaze, you're startled to realize that she’s also wearing the same light blue dress, patterned with silver butterflies, that Ara was gifted. In fact, all the concubines are dressed this way.

Concubine Nam’s face is fuller and glowing beautifully. Her soft, demure persona would be more believable if her eyes weren’t filled with hatred. You’re secretly pleased that her plan to trap the emperor has failed. If she was smart, she would try to gain favor with you, but instead she will most likely plot to poison you. You give her a small nod of acknowledgement and she sneers in return before turning away. 

The night drags on and you're exhausted from trying to keep a happy facade. You catch your shoulders drooping more often than not, and even feel yourself lean against the emperor a time or two. 

When it is finally time to receive congratulations from the representatives from the noble families, you stay quiet at the emperor’s side. You smile when needed and murmur thanks when prompted. Everything feels unreal.  

When your family steps forward, you try to catch Ara’s eyes. She nods her head at Princess Min and bows low to you, “Your highness, many happy wishes on your marriage. May the gods bless you with healthy sons.”

Her voice is cold and you can see the hatred in her eyes. You grab her hand, “Ara please, you must understand.”

“Understand that my sister is a liar?” Ara raises her voice and pulls away from you, “Understand that she is a snake who planned this?!”

“Ara, no.” Your voice cracks and you can feel tears brimming in your eyes, your exhaustion and stress finally catching up to you, “You are my most beloved sister. I would never-”

“And yet, here you are.” Ara’s voice is mocking, “Empress.”

The scene your sister is making draws the attention of your father and Emperor Min, who were in the middle of a quiet conversation near you. Even Princess Min is frowning from where she is seated, obviously hearing the raise of Ara’s voice. 

“Enough.” The emperor’s voice is cold as he glares furiously at Ara, “You dare to show disrespect to your empress?”

“She tricked you! Can’t you see she tricked you?!” Ara ignores the dangerous aura surrounding Emperor Min, “It was supposed to be me! I am supposed to be your queen. I love y-”

“Guards. Detain her. Disrespect to the empress is punishable by death.”

You can see the fear on Ara’s face, she backs away quickly, but the guards grab her. Your father looks alarmed and even Lord Kim looks fearful for your sister’s life. You look at the emperor and grip his arm tightly, “Please, please do not punish her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“She dared to disrespect you. She doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Please,” You beg him, you look at Ara’s fearful face and close your eyes in dismay, you know she will hate you even more after this. You firm your resolve and open your eyes, “She’s only a child.”

You press yourself against the emperor, “She’s harmless. She knows that what we have is real. She knows that you love me. She’s only jealous.”

The emperor’s eyes soften as he stares at you. “And you? Do you love me?”

You glance at your sister, an apology in your eyes, before wrapping your arms around Emperor Min, “I love you. Only you.”

He kisses you deeply and waves away the guards. Once he breaks the kiss, you feel yourself sag against him in relief as Ara is released and your father ushers her away. You can feel Lord Kim staring at you and when you finally meet his gaze, you're taken aback by the devastation in his eyes.

His eyes flicker between you and the emperor before he turns around and follows after your father. You stare after him but the emperor blocks your view. You look up and meet his eyes.

“Your eyes are only meant for me. No one else.”

You nod your head, but don’t say a word. Emperor Min continues to stare at you for a moment longer, before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Eunuch Ki.” 

Eunuch Ki suddenly appears at the Emperor’s side ready and willing to do whatever is asked of him and gives a low bow, “Your majesty.”

“Take my bride to rest.”

“At once, your grace.” Eunuch Ki gestures for you to follow him and you do so without another word. Once the heavy golden doors close behind you, you finally let the tears fall from your eyes. You cry silently on the long carriage ride back to the other side of the palace. Eunuch Ki looks uncomfortable and like he wishes to offer words of comfort, but has no idea what to say. 

You go to rub your eyes with the sleeve of your dress, but Eunuch Ki stops you and hands you a soft cloth, “Forgive me your highness, but your dress must be preserved for the royal archives, you must not dirty it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You give a sad hiccup laugh and look out the carriage window. You realize quickly that you are not headed to the Mugunghwa Courtyard, but to the Emperor’s private courtyard. 

“I thought the Emperor wanted me to rest.”

Eunuch Ki gives you a look, but doesn’t respond. When the carriage rolls to a stop, Unso is there to help you down from the carriage. If she sees the distress on your face, she doesn’t comment on it. She gives you a low bow and leads you into the Emperor’s lair.

His private courtyard and rooms are enormous. Everything is draped in silks of black and gold. When you finally reach the Emperor’s private chambers, you’re astounded. His bedroom has the largest canopy bed you have ever seen, covered in a mountain of pillows. There is a large wooden desk in one corner of the room surrounded with several shelves filled with scrolls. There’s two separate golden resting sofas, each larger than you have ever seen and even a large dressing table with a mirror, obviously for a woman to use. There are also large double doors leading out to a small, private hot spring.

You watch Unso bustle around the room, preparing things and beckoning you over to the dressing table. “Your highness, let me help you remove your makeup.”

You sit quietly at the table and let Unso gently wash your face. You watch her put a special cream under your eyes to bring down the puffiness from your tears. She takes her time undoing your hair and leaving it unbound. You meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, “How many women has he bedded here?”

She looks puzzled at your question, “His majesty has never brought any woman here.”

“Concubine Nam?”

“Never.” Unso’s voice is resolute, “His majesty has never brought any woman, harem or no, here. These are his private chambers.”

“I see.” You don’t know if she’s lying to you, but if she is, you appreciate it. You feel slightly better knowing you are the only woman to ever sleep in his chambers.

Unso opens a chest and pulls out a black silk robe embroidered with red mugunghwa flowers and lays it over the top of the dressing screen in the corner of the room, “Your highness, you should remove your clothes and put this on. I’ll make you some tea and then you can lay down and rest.”

You slowly make your way behind the dressing screen and painstakingly remove your wedding dress. You leave it in a heap on the floor along with your undergarments. You know there is no point in wearing them and while you are nervous and a little scared, you know the consummation is inevitable. 

You put the silk robe on, and gently tie the sash around your waist. When you step around the dressing screen, Unso has already prepared the bed by removing many of the pillows and replacing the black silk sheets with a soft, white one. The white sheet shines ominously in the low light of the lanterns. 

“Your highness, have some tea to soothe your nerves.” Unso has brewed some fresh tea, but the scent is different than any you have had before. You sit stiffly on the edge of the newly made bed and take a small sip of tea. The taste is slightly bitter, but soon you feel yourself relaxing. 

“What type of tea is this?” You ask as Unso refills your cup and urges you to drink more.

She pats your head and gives you a warm smile, “Don’t worry. It was requested by his highness to help improve your health.”

You nod and don’t question her. You assume it’s similar to what the harem drinks to prevent pregnancy. The emperor is still young and with the drama that Concubine Nam has caused, you doubt children were on his mind. Before you know it, you’ve finished the entire pot. 

Unso helps tuck you in bed, and turns down all the lanterns. The only light in the room is that from the moonlight seeping in through the heavy curtains. You can barely keep your eyes open and the last thing you hear before you drift asleep is Unso’s quiet words, “Rest well, your majesty. You will need it.”

-0-0-0-

You’re awoken by a soft noise. You sit up and look around but don’t notice anything out of place. You’re still alone in the emperor’s bed. You see a faint glow under a previously unnoticed door in the far corner near his large desk. 

You get out of bed and make your way to the door. It opens soundlessly and a large staircase is revealed. You slowly make your way up the staircase, being careful not to make a sound. At the top of the staircase is a large room. It looks like an artist’s studio. Numerous canvases line the walls, charcoals and paints scattered over several large wooden tables stationed through the room. 

You see half finished portraits of Princess Min and a few of the previous emperors. You step into the room, careful not to disturb the artwork. There are some more paintings of several gardens and fountains that inhabit the palace grounds. In the corner of the room there is a beautiful hand carved desk, slightly smaller than the large tables, covered with more artwork. When you get closer you realize the paintings and sketches are all of you. You in the dress you wore the first night you arrived, you smiling in Princess Min’s private pavilion, you taking a walk in one of the private gardens, you asleep in your private rooms. Hundreds of paintings and drawings of you. 

You see another canvas underneath, it's slightly worn with frayed edges as if it’s been touched frequently. When you pull it out you see it's a painting of you, but this one you recognize. Two summers ago your father had you and your sister sit for a family portrait. The artist was impeccable and it was one of the most accurate paintings you had ever seen of yourself, it was almost like looking in the mirror. You see that the painting is torn, your sister and father removed from the portrait.

“You’ve found my sanctuary.”

You startle at the emperor’s voice and drop the canvas as if you’ve been burned. He’s standing at the entrance of the room, he’s no longer dressed in the golden robe, but now his signature black. It’s tied loosely, so the smooth pale skin of his chest is visible. His blond hair is loose and his crown is gone. 

“You’re quite the artist.” You gesture around the room, “but I notice there is no artwork of your concubines, of your beloved Concubine Nam.”

The emperor glances around, taking in his artwork as he steps further into the room, “Are you jealous of In-Suk?”

You frown at the use of her first name, but do not deny his accusation, “I do not like the thought of my husband bedding other women.”

“There are no other women.” Emperor Min slowly makes his way over to you, “You’re the only one that matters.”

You glance back at the desk littered with portraits of you, your eyes stopping on the torn family portrait, “How long have I been the only one that matters?”

He smiles, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” You keep your voice calm and composed, “It matters to me.”

Emperor Min stands close to you, his fingers trailing over the artwork on the desk, “I had no interest in marriage. Lords and other noblemen constantly throwing their daughters at me. Your father is no different. Going on and on about Ara and how wonderful and virtuous she is.” He smiles wryly, “I finally got him to shut up by feigning interest.”

The emperor gently picks up the torn family portrait, “Imagine my surprise when he brings me this. A beautiful family portrait. I ask him about you and he immediately tells me about what a beautiful and doting older sister you are to Ara. How ever since your mother died, you have helped raise her. How you love her more than anything.”

He sets the portrait down and grabs your hands, gently turning you to face him, “I knew then that you would sacrifice everything for your beloved sister. I also knew that I needed to get you into the palace. Once you were here, you could not deny me.”

“But I was supposed to marry Lord-”

“Never say his name again.” Emperor’s Min’s voice is hard, leaving no room for discussion, “I am your husband. He is nothing.”

“Of course,” Your voice is quiet, you hesitate for a moment before you continue your questioning, “But… but Princess Min set up the consort selection. She told me she had to practically beg you to agree.”

“My beloved wife.” Emperor Min cups your face affectionately, his previous sour mood at the mention of Lord Kim completely gone, “You’re too trusting. She poisoned her companion, do you really think she would not lie to help her brother?”

“But Ara-”

“Ara will forgive you.” He presses a soft kiss against your lips, “Or she won’t. It does not matter.”

“But-”

“Is it really so bad being Empress?” Emperor Min presses another kiss to your lips, his fingers tangle in your unbound hair, “Being Mother to the country?”

“No-no, I am grateful to your majesty.” You shiver at his touch, grasping his shoulders as he presses himself against you.

“Yoongi.” He places more kisses down your lips and chin, “Call me Yoongi.”

“Yoongi!” You gasp when he softly bites your neck.

You feel him reach behind you and push everything off the large desk, the sound of canvases and painting supplies hitting the floor echoes throughout the room. Yoongi picks you up and sits you on the large desk, his lips never leaving your skin.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” His mouth is muffled by the skin of your neck, his lips and tongue trail lower. You feel hot all over and cannot help but shiver when his hand yanks the collar of your robe down your shoulder. “My beautiful queen.”

Your fingers clutch at the silk fabric of his robe, holding him closer to you. You don’t stop him when he undoes your robe, his hot fingers trailing down the skin of your abdomen. “Beloved, will you show me?”

You wordlessly lean back, letting the open robe slip down your arms, baring your nude body to his view. His eyes are burning as he drinks you in. “Absolutely Exquisite.”

Yoongi leans over you, pressing himself between your thighs, and kisses you deeply. His tongue licks into your mouth with desperation. His hands are shaking as he grips your hips, and you quickly free yourself from the sleeves of your robe.

He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck and chest, his hot tongue swirls around your exposed breast before suckling the nipple. You can’t stop your moan, your whole body jerks at the feeling. “Y-Yoongi!”

“Say it again.” Yoongi’s voice is filled with desperation as he kisses down your ribs, “Say my name again.”

“Yoongi.” You whisper and your stomach clenches when he kisses lower, his wet tongue trailing over your abdomen. You’re so aroused, you can feel your wetness coating your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. 

“I have never seen a more beautiful woman.” Yoongi presses a soft kiss below your belly button, “The country has never had a more beautiful empress.”

“Your highness flatters me.”

“No.” Yoongi’s firm voice startles you and when you meet his eyes, they are burning with madness, “This emperor loves you. Only you.”

You shiver at the look in his eyes and nod your head in return, “Yes. Of course.”

Yoongi presses another kiss to your abdomen, his large hands gripping your thighs as he stares at you, “Will you deny your king?”

“Never.”

The smile he gives you is equal parts beautiful and dangerous, his dark, dark eyes overflowing with adoration for you, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches when he spreads your thighs apart and leans forward, his mouth inches away from your wet, pulsing cunt. “I wonder if you taste as succulent as you smell.”

You feel your pussy throb at his words and you lean your head back against the desk, your eyes closing in anticipation. You find his crude words more arousing than you ever thought possible. Your heart is beating so fast and you can feel sweat beading on your forehead. While you have never been intimate with a man, you were no stranger to self pleasure. You just never imagined your first experience with a man would be the emperor of the entire nation between your thighs, waiting to pleasure you. The heady rush of excitement is making you dizzy.

You tense when Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your juicy pussy. His tongue is hot as it licks a slow stripe up to your clit and you both release a throaty groan when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you get light headed from lack of oxygen. You're shivering all over and you feel a tight pressure in your stomach. Your entire body is tuned to Yoongi’s mouth, every lick and suck of his tongue has you soaring. 

“Better.” He whispers between licks of your swollen clit, his fingers shaking as he holds your thighs apart, “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever had before.” 

You press your hand into your mouth to bite down on, trying to muffle your moans. Your other hand scrambles for something to hold onto before tangling in his long, soft hair. 

You press your heel into his back, but if Yoongi is bothered, he does not show it. He’s completely focused on devouring you. You bite your hand hard to cover your squeal when his hot fingers gently probe your cunt. He reaches up to pull your hand out of your mouth, his fingers gently stroking your wrist around the jade bracelet, “Do not dare hide your pleasure from me.”

He places your hand on his head, near your other hand already grasping his hair, and encourages you to use him as you please. A long, thick finger slips inside you and you cannot stop yourself from clamping down, your hips automatically rolling up into his face. 

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” Yoongi continues to flick your clit with his tongue, “Ride my face.”

Your fingers grasp his head, holding his mouth against your aching cunt. You’re throbbing and dripping and you know you are going to come soon. You can feel the release building deep inside you. Yoongi presses another finger into your dripping hole and you can feel yourself trembling. He’s completely focused on you and your pleasure, his mouth working nonstop to help you reach your peak. 

You sit up slightly and meet his dark gaze, his eyes are brimming with satisfaction. You grip his hair hard and press his face against your dripping cunt. You’re so close you’re practically vibrating with pleasure. 

He twists his fingers and you're coming. You release a soundless gasp and can’t stop yourself from gushing all over his fingers. Yoongi moans at the taste of you, his mouth eagerly trying to swallow every drop of your release. You collapse on the desk, your orgasm still thrumming through your body. 

You barely catch your breath when he’s hovering over you, your release glistening on his lips and chin. He kisses you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his tongue. You can feel his body trembling as he undoes his robe and you cannot figure out if he’s nervous or excited, or a combination of both.

He breaks the kiss to look at you and your stomach flutters at his gaze, so full of yearning and affection, you’re no longer sure why you ever thought about denying him. You hadn't even realized something was missing from your life, he was missing from your life, until this moment. You weren't just doing this out of a sense of duty. Because you were his wife. Because he was your husband. You wanted this. Desperately. More than you’d wanted anything up until this moment. 

Full of your realization, you push his robe off his shoulders and spread your legs wider, allowing him to press himself completely against you. He’s hot and hard, pulsing between your thighs. You shiver at the feel of him, your sticky cunt still dripping from your orgasm. You look at him, his cheeks flushed pink, his forehead and chest slightly sweaty, his hair a tangled mess. His scar looks less intimidating in the low light of the lanterns.

“You love me?” You don’t realize you have said the words out loud until he stares at you, his dark, dark eyes burning.

“More than anything.” 

It’s intoxicating knowing you have this beautiful man confessing his love to you. He is the most powerful man in the entire world and he loves you more than anything. You can’t help the ugly feelings of jealousy bubbling in your stomach, knowing other women have seen him undone like this. Knowing that Concubine Nam has had him like this is unacceptable. 

“I want them gone.” You shift forward slightly, the head of his thick cock catching on your entrance. You feel so hot between your legs, your cunt aching to be spread open by him. 

“Who?” He sounds confused, distracted. His whole body is trembling, holding himself back from thrusting up into you.

“Your whores.” You roll your hips and feel him sink a few inches inside you, you hold your breath and try not to tense up at the intrusion. “I will not have a husband that has a harem. I want them all gone, especially that bitch Nam. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.”

“Yes,” You feel more than hear him gasp, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, “Anything you want.

“You’re mine.” 

Your whispered declaration causes something inside of him to snap. You’re unprepared when he pushes completely inside of you. The burning stretch of his thick, heavy cock leaves your breathless. He groans into your chest, barely giving you a moment to adjust before he’s thrusting in and out. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him. His lips press soft kisses into your skin between pants of yesyesyes and all yours. You’re soaked and shaking, your fingers clutch his shoulders, trying to anchor him against you. He’s so thick and so large, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“My Empress, My Goddess,” Yoongi whispers reverently into your skin, “I will give you everything.”

“Yes,” You press yourself closer to him, ignoring the feel of his ringed fingers bruising your hips, “All I want is you.”

Every thrust of his hips brings you closer to the edge. You’re quivering around him, so close you can almost taste it. You shudder when he releases your hip, his fingers gently rubbing your swollen clit, causing you to pulse around him. “That’s it, my beloved girl. Come for me.”

Yoongi softly pinches your clit and you explode. His tongue licks up your throat, his mouth swallowing your quiet cries of pleasure. You clench down and feel him gasp against you, his body shuddering uncontrollably. The pulse of his cock inside you floods you with warmth.

You close your eyes and hold him against you, trying to catch your breath. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You slowly run your fingers through his hair and smile when you realize he’s still buried inside you.

He sits up and stares at you. You can see your reflection in his dark eyes. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are swollen. You can see your eyes are hazy with pleasure and several love bites adorn your neck and shoulders.

“My beloved bride.” Yoongi smiles at you affectionately, his fingers gently brush your hair back from your sweaty forehead, “I will never let you go.”

-0-0-0-

When you awaken you’re alone in the emperor’s bed, his side is cool, as if he’s been gone for hours. You’re sore all over, your husband spent most of the night inside of you, making you come over and over again until the early morning light.

You wrap the wrinkled white sheet around you and stand on shaky legs. You slowly make your way to the door and call for Unso. She appears immediately, almost as if she was waiting for you.

She helps you sit at the dressing table and goes about opening the curtains. Based on the sunlight entering the room, you can tell it is already early afternoon. Several maids clear the used bedding from the bed, and replace the sheets with clean silk ones. 

“Where is the emperor?” 

“His majesty wanted his bride to get enough rest, he would not let anyone disturb your highness.” Unso ignores your question and pulls a black dress patterned with golden dragons from the wardrobe. She hangs it over the silk dressing screen along with several undergarments.

You watch her through the mirror as she orders servants to prepare bath water for you. You can tell that something is amiss by the way Unso will not meet your eyes and the maids scurry about as if they are terrified of you.

“Your highness,” A younger maid bows low and holds out a fresh cup of tea, “your tea?”

You take the cup from the trembling maid, it’s the same bitter tea from the night before. You take a small sip, “Unso, where is my husband?”

“Your majesty, you must drink your tea, it is good for your health.” Unso comes out from behind the dressing screen, “Come take your bath, it will soothe your sore muscles.”

“No,” You set the mostly full cup of tea on the dressing table and stand up, “Bring me my robe.”

“Your majesty, you cannot go out in only your robe!” Unso’s voice is shocked. “It is improper!”

“Fine,” You make your way behind the dressing screen and put on your undergarments, “You will help me dress and then you will take me to my husband.”

Unso and several maids help you put on the stunning black dress. You’re ushered to the dressing table where you are adorned in diamond jewelry. Unso styles your hair with a jeweled dragon hairpin. Lotions and creams are rubbed into your face, neck and arms. 

Once you are deemed presentable, you follow Unso and several servant girls to the throne room. When you reach the large doors, Eunuch Ki looks alarmed to see you and quickly bows low, “Y-your highness! What are you doing here?”

 “Eunuch Ki,” You nod your head in greeting, “I came to see my husband.”

“I see,” Eunuch Ki shares an undecipherable look with Unso, “His majesty is conducting important business, he has asked me to inform you that he will join you in his rooms later for the evening meal.”

“Open the doors.”

“Please your majesty, you need to rest.” Eunuch Ki tries to placate you, “Let me take you back to the emperor’s courtyard or even to see Princess Min.”

“Open the doors. Now.”

Eunuch Ki looks helplessly at Unso before nodding his head. The guards slowly push the heavy doors open.

The smell is the first thing that hits you. The thick coppery scent of blood. You slowly step into the room and gasp in horror. The floors and walls are covered in blood. It looks like an entire massacre took place here. You walk further into the room and ignore the way the blood soaks into your silk slippers, seeping between your toes.

Eunuch Ki follows quietly behind you. There are several servants scrubbing the floors and walls, trying to remove the pools of blood around the room. You ignore them all, your eyes are completely focused on the emperor. He’s staring at a small golden box in his hand. A bloody sword rests near his feet. 

“Yoongi.” You whisper the words quietly, but his head snaps up immediately, his eyes focusing on you. 

“Beloved.” His eyes light up when he sees you, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. He rushes eagerly towards you. You realize he’s wearing a black robe, patterned with golden dragons, the same design as your dress. The only difference is his robe is stained with fresh blood. His hair is pulled up into a topknot, his black headband in place. Small drops of blood stain his cheeks and neck. He presses the golden box into Eunuch Ki’s hands before cupping your face, his fingers still wet with blood.

“My beautiful bride,” His voice is light, happy, “everything is perfect now that you are here.”

“Perfect?” You whisper and let him take your hands, leading you towards his throne. The golden dragon throne looks intimidating in the blood soaked room. The closer you get to the throne, the stronger the scent of blood becomes. You feel light headed, your stomach churning at the smells permeating the air.

“I.. I need to sit down.”

Yoongi looks at you concerned and immediately has you sit on his throne, “Are you alright, my love? Do you need some tea?”

“No,” You sit quietly. You feel sick, you feel sweaty, you can barely catch your breath, “I just need a moment.”

You close your eyes trying to center yourself. You know something terrible happened here, there is so much blood it looks like a battlefield. You're grateful that the bodies have already been removed, you don't know how you would have handled a room full of corpses. You take a few deep breaths and open your eyes, meeting Yoongi's bright gaze.  

“I have a gift for you.” Yoongi takes the golden box from Eunuch Ki, “I wanted to surprise you with it this evening, but you are here now. My beautiful girl.”

You stare at the golden box stained with blood. You take it from Yoongi with trembling hands. Yoongi is vibrating with excitement next to you. You can feel the pressure behind your eyes signaling that you are about to cry. You blink repeatedly, holding back your tears.  

You slowly open the box and stare at the contents. Yoongi holds your hands around the golden box, making sure you can’t drop it. You swallow the scream bubbling in your throat and meet his eyes. Dark, crazed, unhinged eyes overflowing with love for you. Love and madness.

You look back at your gift. Dead, lifeless eyes stare back at you. Concubine Nam’s eyes. Yoongi kneels obediently at your feet, soaking his robe in more blood. Blood from Concubine Nam. Blood from the rest of the harem. 

You can’t stop the tears from dripping down your cheeks. 

“They are all gone. Just like you asked.” Yoongi stares at you with reverence, his eyes sparkling, “I told you I would do anything for you.”

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Clouded judgement [Loki Laufeyson x Reader] - Challenge

Title: Clouded judgement Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Asgardian!Female!Reader Word count: 4.8k Published: 25 May 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: Angst and fluff Summary: After years of living in his brother’s shadow, Loki feels as though he is an equal finally as things seem to fall into place. That is until he sees you with his brother, enjoying his company. His emotions start to cloud his judgement and in fear of having to go back where he was, he makes a decision he soon regrets. Challenge: [x] [x] This is for @sventeen-daybreak's 600 followers writing challenge and I used the overall vibe of the song.

“What would it feel like if you tore me apart? / Come on chew on my heart” [Chew on my heart by James Bay]

Marvel Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Tom Hiddleston and Characters Masterlist

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Thor has always been a brother figure to you, you grew up together after all. He was someone who was always there for you when you needed him, but mostly got on your nerves intentionally. He found enjoyment in your grimaces and child-like sulking. Regardless of how irritating he was at times, you loved him dearly. However, Loki was different. You never looked at him as a brother or a friend. You pretended to see him in that light, of course, not wanting your secret to be revealed, but your feelings for him were deeper, rooted in a romantic interest.

You tried to hide it and treat them equally, but at times you found it rather difficult. Sometimes you wished to run up to Loki to give him a hug, whilst you fist bumped Thor, but you knew if you differentiated them, your secret would be at risk. So, you pushed your emotions aside and used a logical part of your mind to make decisions that would ensure the safety of your secret.

Though you carefully planned out how to go about your feelings, others had different ideas. Loki always voiced how he just wanted to be an equal to Thor, someone who had just as much opportunity, someone who received as much love and care, someone who was no different, but when it came to you, he wanted to be above his brother, he wanted to be first and more important to you. He wasn't happy with your carefully concocted plan to be stuck on the same level as his brother, especially because he didn't feel he was.

Loki was growing tired of being a shadow of his brother once again. He wanted you to look at him differently, to treat him as though he was more important to you. He had to admit he was jealous and though the word itself made him enraged, he tried to conceal it. He envied the relationship you had with Thor. Even though you thought you were careful and treated them equally, Loki's genius mind was clouded by his emotions, his jealousy.

Thor and Loki's relationship had been a rollercoaster, but finally they were at peace with each other and even Odin was proud of his younger adopted son. Everything seemed finally calm between the brothers, but it didn't matter how proud his brother made him and how supportive he had been towards Thor, Loki found himself taken over by an envious storm once again.

He leaned against the door frame of your room in the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf, his arms folded in front of his chest, his body language screaming indifference. He acted as though he couldn't care about the loud laughter that left your lips, the small crinkles appearing beside your eyes or the way you threw your head back as another fit of laughter erupted from your lungs. Loki tried to pretend that it didn't affect him, that his heart didn't ache from the sight of another man making you laugh wholeheartedly as he watched from the side-line. But deep down he was burning in jealousy, eating him up from the inside. He knew he should have been happy for you as a friend and he tried, many times before, but he couldn't control the little demons that discouraged him from ever expressing his feelings to you. He believed, if it came to making a decision between him and his brother, the mighty Thor, the God of Thunder, you would choose his brother without a hint of doubt. The feeling of not being equal, only a second to Thor once again messed with his head and as he stood in the doorway, watching you laughing at something his brother told you, he made a decision he felt was long awaited.

"Why do you keep standing there? Come here," you smiled softly as you patted the golden couch beside you, offering him a place to sit. But instead of taking up on your offer, he just shook his head with a solemn expression. "Is everything okay?" You asked, slightly worried about the look on his face. Instead of a reply, he just nodded. With a heavily beating heart, you stood up from the sofa and walked up to him, placing a hand on his face, gently caressing his cheek with the tip of your thumb. "You look troubled. Is there a way I could help ease your worries?" You asked, eyes filled with hope to help the man you loved so dearly.

Loki wanted to lean into your palm, enjoying your soft touch against his skin, the connection making him feel as though your mere presence radiated safety, a feeling he only felt with you. But he had to remind himself of his plan. He grabbed your wrist and with a harsh movement pushed your hand away from him. His actions surprised you, making you slightly jump at the unexpected reaction. The coldness in his eyes was unfamiliar, your concern for him greatly growing. "I don't need your help," he replied firmly, a chill running through your spine at the emotionless tone. Even when you did something silly, he was always there to reassure you that it was all going to work out, because whatever you wanted, you were capable of achieving. He was always there to encourage you and offer you his endless support. He was the one who always kept you in one piece, even when you were going through hardships. But as he stood in front of you with his gaze empty, his jaw tightened, his tone cold and emotionless, something felt off and you weren't about to let it go.

"You are acting strange, Loki," you spoke with a deep frown across your brows, your eyes studying his face, trying to understand what could have gone through his mind.

He raised a questioning brow as he tilted his head. "No, I'm not. Perhaps you just don't know me well enough," he shrugged nonchalantly, his whole demeanour making you feel as though there was an invisible wall between the two of you.

"That's ridiculous. I know you, Loki. We have been friends for long enough," you scoffed at the absurdity of his words.

"You are no friend to me," he spat the words filled with hatred. A silent gasp left your lungs, his words painfully piercing through your chest, as though a dagger stabbed you in your heart. Feeling your chest tighten, your air cut off for a mere moment, you stumbled back in your place, your knees weakening as your brain processed his words. Loki didn't mean what he said, the words he spoke weren't the ones he meant to say, but they escaped involuntary and regardless of how painful it felt, he couldn't take them back.

"Loki!" Thor raised his voice warningly at his brother, but both you and Loki ignored him.

"What are you talking about? I don't understand you," you grabbed his arm desperately, but he just shook it off. He could see the pain in your eyes, the tears threatening to escape. His only wish was to wrap his arms around you and apologise repeatedly, to tell you that he didn't mean a word he said, but he couldn't do that. His pride stood in the way, the thought of being a second again enraged him.

"Wasn't I clear enough. Must I explain everything in detail?" He spat in anger. He didn't want to hurt you, but before he could have even thought of the words he wanted to say, they escaped him without a warning.

"But Loki, what have I done?" Your voice was tiny as though it wasn't even your voice. It was weak and desperate, somewhat needy. None of what Loki said made sense and the cold look in his eyes, the firm stance he took up on, it wasn't the Loki you knew.

"Nothing," he replied with a straight face. "You are simply no use to me anymore," he spoke, his words even surprising him. He didn't mean to make you feel as though you were a toy, he grew tired of. He realised it was time for him to not say another word. He knew what he had done, he knew you hated him and that it was too late for him to take it back. Opening your mouth, you were ready to strike back, but no sound left your vocal cords. You stood in front of him as if you were a fish out of water, suffocating. Tears fell down your cheeks, streaming down heavily as the words finally reached you. You were of no use to him anymore.

The sight of your tears, the devastation he saw in your eyes made Loki internally scream. It reminded him of the last words he spoke to his mother, breaking the heart of the person he loved more than anyone else. And now as he stood in front of you, intentionally hurting you, he just wanted to travel back in time and take it all back. The look on your face terrified him, the thought of causing you pain made his heart churn in agony. He couldn't bear to watch your heart shatter right in front of his eyes, all because he was a coward.

But you weren't a fool, you knew something was wrong. The unshed tears you desperately tried to keep from escaping blurred your vision as you stood in front of him unsteadily, wiping away the remaining evidence of your silent cries. Grabbing his arm once again, this time you didn't let him shake you off and you purposely changed your whole demeanour. You knew him, you knew who he really was, and you decided you weren't about to give up on him.

Your strong hold around him surprised Loki, he didn't expect you to cling to him after he treated you so disrespectfully. Once again, he tried to shake your hand off, but you didn't give in. There was a raging fire of determination in your eyes that Loki couldn't place and certainly couldn't understand. You caught his facade crumble for a mere moment only, wavering under your stubbornness, but it was enough for you to know there was something behind his nasty behaviour. "You can't fool me, you dumb man. It doesn't matter how hard you try," you hissed in anger as his cold exterior once again trembled at the sight of your firm stance against his ruthlessness, but he quickly rearranged himself as though he realised his slip-up.

He roughly removed his arm from your hold, your gaze capturing his stunned look once again, long enough for him to know you weren't hurt anymore, you were mad. Your eyes held anger as you looked up at the man and you didn't plan on hiding it. Loki knew he had gone too far and seeing your heart broken and enraged wasn't his plan. He just wanted to distance himself, never to feel like a second behind his brother, but he had gone too far. Before he could have made another foolish decision, he turned around with his jaw tightly shut, his fingers curving into a fist as he left you without a reply.

"Loki!" Thor shouted after his brother, but he didn't turn back. "I will talk to him," Thor shot up from the sofa and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly with a pained smile across his face.

"He is too stubborn to listen. There is something else behind his behaviour," you replied through gritted teeth, wanting nothing but to punch his younger brother.

"Then I shall bring him back so you can talk to him," he offered, earning a nod from you as he hurried after his brother, his heavy steps still audible from a distance.

You couldn't understand what had gotten into Loki, you couldn't pinpoint where this absurd behaviour and disrespectful manner came from, but the way he talked to you, the coldness in his eyes were ones you have never seen from him before. At least not towards you. His distanced behaviour lit a raging fire within you, wanting to confront the mischievous god, giving him a piece of your mind. He hurt you, it was terrifying to hear those words leave his lips, but the anger you felt towards him overpowered the initial aching in your heart, the heavy weight sitting on your chest.

Loki rushed through the corridors of the Royal Palace in haste, not being able to look at you any longer. He didn't mean for things to happen the way they did, he didn't mean to hurt you. When he realised what he had done, the only thing he could do was run. He knew he was a coward, but the pained look on your face terrified him and as soon as he realised you weren't having any of his foolish play, it scared him. His whole plan was reckless and stupid, he knew, but he couldn't find it in him to walk back to you and apologise. Loki thought if he was to go back, he would have to watch you growing closer to his brother and he couldn't bear the thought of you and Thor together.

So, he fled Asgard.

It's been a week since Loki disappeared and you couldn't handle not knowing where he was, what he has been doing, why he acted the way he did. You thought after all this time your anger would subside, but it weighed on you heavily just like on the day Loki decided to hurt you. A part of you was enraged, wanting nothing but return the pain you felt, however another part of you was worried about him, concerned for his safety. Walking up and down nervously in your room didn't help your case. Thor's letter about finding his brother awoke hope in you, but not the kind where you wanted to jump in his arms anymore. The kind that gave you the opportunity to tell him what a coward he was for running away.

A guard knocked on your door, pulling you out of your thoughts. He didn't need to speak, you knew Loki and Thor were back. You gave clear instructions to the guards to inform you upon their arrival. In haste, you headed to the entrance that led you to the Rainbow bridge, a storm of thoughts swirling around in your mind, scenarios upon scenarios playing every possibility of your reunion.

As you stepped outside the arch of the entrance, you caught sight of the brothers. Thor pushed on Loki's back as though he was a prisoner. He even wore a pair of handcuffs to stop him from trying anything. Frowning at the sight, you tilted your head innocently, Thor's actions seeming a bit much for your liking. You wanted Loki back, but if he didn't come on his own, did it really make a difference? You knew he would only listen to you because he had no other options.

Whilst Thor's extreme measures slightly bothered you, the anger that you have been harbouring screamed louder in your mind than to care about how he returned Loki. Whether with or without Loki's consent, you were to lash out on him, because he deserved it after the way he treated you.

"Well, well, well, look who found his way home," you arched a brow, but he didn't look at you. His gaze was fixed on the ground, not daring to meet your eyes. "Uncuff him, please" you instructed Thor, who did as he was told, knowing he had no place to join your disagreement. He helped as much as he could, he brought his brother back, but whatever was going on between you and Loki was none of his business, so after a reassuring nod, he left you.

Loki massaged his wrist where the handcuff cut into his flesh, but still didn't dare to lift his gaze. Everything seemed more interesting to him, but you. It angered you even more, but instead of losing control, you tightened your jaw and squeezed your lips shut. You patiently waited, though you didn't know for what. An apology maybe, an explanation, even an annoyed groan, but Loki was silent. Silence wasn't his strength, the man loved to talk, and this side was certainly new to you. For a mere second it occurred to you that he might have changed, and you just misinterpreted him the last time you met. But those thoughts quickly disappeared as you remembered his facade fall for a second, seeing him vulnerable even if for a mere moment.

"So, is this how it's going to be?" You asked with a straight face, hoping to earn a reply, some words maybe or even a sound. But Loki kept his lips sealed. "Look at me!" You raised your voice, but he didn't lift his gaze, he avoided meeting your eyes at all costs. There was a certain hopelessness you felt, a part of you burning in anger to know more, to have some sort of an explanation, but he didn't give in. "Talk to me!" You shouted at the man, but he just tightened his jaw and kept quiet.

Loki wanted to talk, he wanted to apologise, he wanted to look into your eyes and see what he had done to you. But he didn't have the courage to see the damage he had made. He was afraid of what he would see, the raging hatred in your eyes, the pity for the pathetic person he was, the anger his cowardness lit within you. It was all his fault, and he knew he had no right to speak, not even to apologise. His words would mean nothing to you, he let himself treat you so rudely after all.

"Talk to me! Open your mouth! You could never shut up, why are you starting now?" You asked, enraged at the silence. Walking up to him, you started hitting his chest, each blow harder than the previous one, but Loki just took it diligently. "Why are you doing this?" You shouted as you pushed on him, desperately trying to get him to say something, the silence driving you mad. Loki though he didn't have the right to stop you, each blow you struck at his chest was well deserved. He would have taken even harder punishments, he deserved it after all, but if that was what made you feel better, he would let you keep hitting him.

Your next blow halted in mid-air, tears collecting in your eyes, ready to escape. "Do you really hate me that much?" Your voice barely a whisper, a weak voice you have never heard from yourself. Loki's eyes found yours for the first time, swallowing visibly at the words you used. The thought of him ever hating you felt impossible for him and as he watched your desperate gaze, he knew he needed to say something.

"I could never," he replied finally, earning a shaky sigh from you.

"Then why are you doing this?" You asked, hoping that the barrier he so carefully pulled up between you would finally crumble. But no other words left his lips. He was silent once again. He didn't know what to say to you, he couldn't possibly be honest. He knew you would look at him as though he was a pathetic man and he never wanted to see you look down on him. He was better off being hated by you than to ever feel like you pitied him. He knew he deserved it, what he had done was unforgivable in his eyes, though he couldn't get himself to tell you that. "Speak!" You shouted once again; your desperate tone shook him out of his thoughts. He locked his eyes with yours, searching for more than rage, but you were harbouring so many emotions, he couldn't possibly read you.

You had no idea what was going through his mind, the only thing you could see in his eyes was a mess. Swirling emotions and thoughts, you could barely read the man. You needed answers, but as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't possibly find them. You needed words, confessions, explanations, apologies, it didn't matter, but the only way you could understand him was spoken words and he denied them from you. His silence made your head spin, feeling hopeless in your situation. Once again you hit him on the chest as though that was the only reason, he replied to you.

"You big, old, man-child, open your mouth and speak!" You shouted at him, striking another fist full of blow against his chest. "Say something!" You screamed, filled with rage. "After all you've said, you had the audacity to run away, flee from all the problems you have caused. How could you do that? Do you realise how worried I was? Not knowing where you went, what you were up to, if you were even in one piece," you cried. You thought he didn't care, but you had to say it, you had to let it all out. "Your words hurt me and I'm so mad at you, I want to hurt you as much as you hurt me, but I was still worried. I'm as much of a fool as you are," you breathed in a calmer manner. Loki's eyes grew in astonishment. He expected your anger, lashing out on him, but he never expected you to worry about him, to show such affection. Not after all he has done to you, not after he has broken your heart.

"I'm sorry," he breathed weakly against his better judgment. The desperate need in your eyes, the anger building up, the tears collecting, he knew he needed to say it. He didn't want to be a coward anymore and as hard as it was to accept it, he couldn't care less if he was only a second to his brother. If he could only remain beside you as a mere friend, he was to do everything in his power to earn your forgiveness. "I'm so sorry," he repeated himself. Your eyes grew wide at the apology, if anything those were the last words you expected to hear from him. His head fell forward, his gaze fixed on the ground. Loki was never one to apologise, let alone seem so guilty. You felt as though you had entered a completely new territory. But it didn't make you feel less hurt or upset.

"Do you think an apology can erase it all? Do you really think a simple sorry is enough?" You asked with a straight face, arms folded in front of your chest. Of course, Loki knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start, however minor it seemed to be.

"No, it's not. I know I've gone too far," he spoke as he lifted his head, searching for your eyes. His voice was heavy with emotions, his cold demeanour falling into pieces. "I didn't mean anything I said to you, I didn't mean to hurt you. It was not my intention," he took a deep breath as though he needed time to carefully plan his words. "I'm a fool and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I am sincerely sorry for what I have done," he breathed, his shoulders falling forward, his usually self-confident appearance now seemed weak and vulnerable. You had to stop the urge that wanted you to wrap your arms around his frame and tell him that it was alright, because whilst you felt bad for him, it was all his fault. He hurt you, he spoke those words that felt like daggers twisting your heart.

"Why, Loki? Why did you talk to me like that?" You asked, needing an explanation. The Loki you saw that day was indeed different from the person you knew, but the reasons behind his behaviour were beyond you.

"Because I thought it would be better," Loki debated to be honest with you, but as he looked into your eyes, your gaze desperate for the truth, he couldn't deny it from you. He knew you would look at him differently, he knew you would be even more enraged, but you deserved the truth. "I didn't want to be a second again. Finally, everything fell into place with my father and Thor. I felt equal, which I wanted to be for so long. But once again I found myself in my brother's shadow and I couldn't handle it. I was a fool and I thought if I pushed you away, I wouldn't have to repeat the same mistakes again, but I did," a heavy sigh left his lungs as he searched for the right words. "I never meant to hurt you, but I couldn't bear to be stuck in my brother's shadow again," you furrowed at the man, his words making no sense to you.

"I always treated you the same. Why would you think you were in his shadow? I love you equally," you attempted to convince him, but he just shook his head.

"Maybe you think you did, but I was envious of your relationship with him. I know, I'm the worst, but I couldn't control it," he scoffed at his own words. "I didn't want to be a close second, I didn't want to be an equal. I wanted to be more important to you, but I knew it would be impossible," your eyes widened as the words left his lips, a silent gasp escaping your lungs.

"More important?" You asked with a stunned expression. "Why?"

"Because my feelings for you aren't platonic," he confessed, his chest feeling lighter as the words finally left his mouth. He wished to say it for so long, regardless of how terrifying it seemed. Whether you felt the same or not, he felt as though the heavy weight previously seated across his chest was now finally gone.

You stood in front of him in utter shock. You longed to hear those words since the very first time you realised your own feelings, but you could never imagine hearing them. It felt like you were in a dream, a blissful moment. As the puzzles finally started to make sense, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You are a fool," you breathed against the skin of his neck. Your sudden affection surprised Loki, but his arms involuntarily wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Did you really push me away for this? Couldn't you just say something?" You asked as you tightened your arms around him.

"I was afraid," he confessed, his words weak as though he found them hard to declare.

"If you were just honest, this whole situation could have been easily avoided," you replied as you pulled back to be able to look at him. You placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it gently. "If you asked me, if you had spoken to me, I would have told you the truth. I haven't seen you as a friend for years. My feelings for you grew a long time ago," you confessed as Loki's eyes grew wider. "You were never a second or an equal to Thor in my eyes. You were always more important," you spoke as you brushed his hair behind his ear.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed as he finally found his voice and pulled you closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, enjoying your embrace around him. "Thank you," he murmured against your skin.

"What for?" You asked with a deep frown.

"For your existence," he replied, earning a loud chuckle from you.

"You're welcome," you snickered playfully. "Though I'm still mad at you," you warned him as you pulled back to establish eye contact. "You will have to make up for all the mess you have created," you spoke with a straight face, your words strict, but holding no anger.

"I will do anything in my power to earn your forgiveness. Anything!" He declared. He knew he was a fool, but he wasn't stupid enough to hurt you ever again. He needed you to forgive him, because he knew he couldn't forgive himself until you had done so.

"You could start by declaring your undying love for me," you giggled with a mischievous smile across your face.

"Excuse me?" He asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"You could start asking for my forgiveness by kissing me," your voice was less confident than the first time, fearing you have been too bold. But as soon as Loki processed your words, a heartfelt laughter escaped his lungs.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied as his laughter died down and placed a hand behind your neck, meeting your lips halfway, kissing you in haste, wanting to pour all his feelings in that kiss. He needed you to understand all those feelings he has been harbouring silently and he was ready to give you anything you ever wished, even after he has finally earned your forgiveness.

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[butterysalt]

Fun | Sherlock x platonic!Reader

Pairing: Sherlock x platonic!gender neutral reader

Request ( @a-paper-cut​ ): 

Word Count: 2,202

Contains: Mentions of child abduction, platonic fluffiness and banter :)

A/N: AAAAAAA thank you so much, lovely! This was my first request and I was SUPER excited to write it hehe. I’ve been on a slight creative block lately and I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope this fic does justice for what you wanted and I hope that you are doing amazingly 🧡🧡

It was an early, snowy winter morning in London. You and Sherlock Holmes have been mind-boggled by a puzzling case for the past week. The detective proposed that the two of you go on a walk to allow some fresh air in the brains again. This suggested that even his extensive mind palace and composing weren’t helping the genius. Not that you were complaining about sharing a nice stroll with Sherlock. It had been years after all since you two had spent any casual time together. Like what people normally did in their free time, anyway.

The two of you stepped side by side, feet planting in the thin sheet of snow on the ground in unison. You grinned a little at the matched body language. You and Sherlock always had special ways to subtly communicate with one another. It was like a part of your minds were connected.

“Anything yet?” the tall brunette questioned. Your lip twitched upward. “Don’t rush the process, Sherlock. Just enjoy the moment. Live in it a little.” Sherlock’s long drawl could be heard next to you. His walking strides were growing longer as his patience began to thin out. You could practically hear the subtle gnawing of his teeth.

“We’ve only been walking 5 minutes,” you flouted, “Loosen up a bit.” Sherlock snickered to himself, messing with his gloved hands. “You’re already trying to read me?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s clear you’re agitated,” you jested. The curly-haired detective sneered at you and kicked a clump of ice out of the way. “I can’t think, Y/n. We have potential homicide to solve and we’re here drudging in the snow.”

“Remember, this was your idea, genius. Unless you can come up with something else, this is all we’ve got.” Sherlock went silent, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind wandered to try and come up with something snarky to throw at you. Perhaps a witty comeback that would leave you in doubt. The headache he was dealing with was enough to strike him in his train of thought. He shook it off and his focus returned to the matter of urgency. Unsolved case.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky, blowing a hot cloud of breath into the chilly London air. He tugged his scarf a little closer to his neck, shoving his gloved hands down into his thick coat. The breath cloud was a common habit of Sherlock’s during cold weather. It mimicked the effect of blowing cigarette smoke, just without the tar and nicotine. Fortunately, the only time the detective abused drugs anymore was when cases had him horribly stumped; thanks to you and John’s efforts, his drug use was much more controlled now.

“Five missing children. All between the ages of 7 and 9. We know that the connection is tied to their private schools. Three different religious private schools within a 10 kilometer radius — so, fairly close together. The parents reported their children coming home with expensive gifts from a mysterious donor shortly before they went missing. They referred to the perpetrator as ‘Ray’. Anyone handing out shiny trinkets to naive children is either a philanthropist or a predator. I’d like to bet on the latter.”

You sighed, mentally reviewing all of the evidence from the case in your head. “But all of the children knew basic safety protocols: don’t talk to strangers, never accept anything from strangers, the whole package. Their parents are terribly traditional. They never would have let any of them see the light if they broke any of those rules. So the chances are near impossible that they would have fallen for such typical child abduction tricks.”

“Near impossible, L/n. That means there’s still a possibility and possible is all we need to screw this up,” Sherlock tutted. He blew another large cloud of air, shaking some light snow off his curls. You frowned, “The suspects. We’ve interrogated the popes, teachers, parents… who are we missing?”

Sherlock stopped walking. You turned to check up on him, finding him with his eyes shut. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions…”

“Of course we’re asking the wrong questions! We have all the pieces in our hands but no instructions, Sherlock. We’re running in circles with this case,” you walked over to a public railing, leaning against it and looking out across the long white blanket that stretched to the horizon.

He joined your side shortly after, bending down to pick up some rocks to toss down the snowy hill and watch as they made skinny trails in the frosty powder. Sherlock sighed out, exasperated and worn out. “We’re not getting anywhere by mulling over it, are we?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself. “That’s why I’m here to keep you in check. It’s good to get some air, you know? Christ knows when’s the last time you did that simply because you wanted to.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow perked up and he faced you with a blank expression. “How do you mean?” Your eyes widened a little, unsure of how you should pick out your next words. “Well… you know, you don’t exactly, uh…” Nervously, your eyes flicked up to his. He was watching your expression very carefully.

“You don’t spend a lot of time for yourself,” you said simply. Sherlock frowned in disagreement. “I spend a lot of time by myself. I thought you knew me better than that,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your back against the cold railing now, crossing your arms. “In your mind palace, Sherlock. I mean you don’t do things you enjoy.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy things?” he countered your query. You found yourself forming a cold sweat, debating on how to deliver your message. “Hobbies?”

“Violin.”

“Meh. Parties?”

“You disturb me.” Your best friend’s disgust made you cackle. “See, that’s my point! You don’t know how to have fun anymore. What happened to old Sherlock?”

Now this was a personal offense against Sherlock. “What? You don’t think I’m fun?” Sherlock sounded incredibly appalled by your claim. A hot cloud of air rose to the sky when you scoffed.

“Holmes, you are probably the farthest thing when it comes to the definition of fun!”

“Well, probability-wise, that’s highly improbable when Mycroft exists.”

“His poshness makes up for it. You’re just irritating.” Sherlock puffed out his red cheeks, nudging you playfully. “Oh, come on. You must admit that I’m at least an interesting character?”

You pondered in fake thought, scrunching your face together. “Interesting is debatable. Fun? That’s foreign territory, Sherlock.” The tall man grimaced deeply at your bluntness that he clearly had issues with. “What do you mean by ‘Old Sherlock’? What was good about the ‘old me’? I consider myself much more refined in the present day.”

Old memories of the two of you hanging out with one another as teenagers came back to you. A smile melted on your face from the warm feelings of nostalgia, the chilliness from the snowfall leaving your body.

“You used to prank Mycroft all the time. Everything was always a competition with you and me; we would go from racing down the neighborhood to reach my house first or rush to finish homework and claim the telly before the other could. Oh! We would always make up fake cases, too, trying to entertain a mystery that didn’t even exist,” you laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sherlock grumbled at the reminder of your old shenanigans. He wasn’t always the fondest of his younger self. But he had to admit he was reckless, even as a child. It was a simpler time and kids didn’t have much to fret or fear.

“Now you’re all enigmatic and stoic with your flipped up coat collar and scary cheekbones. The difference is so disappointing, it’s sickening,” you gagged. Sherlock slipped off his glove and jabbed his freezing hand against your neck, making you exclaim at the coldness and shove him backward. He wore a victorious smirk at your suffering. You pointed a hard finger at him, holding back your own laughter to prove a point.

“NO, that’s not being fun, Sherlock. That’s torture- sadism! You’re just an arse!” He threw his arms in the air, tossing his glove in your face. “It’s subjective! I can be fun,” he insisted.

“You’re predictable, Holmes. You don’t remember what good humor is and it shows in your actions. You pick everything up from books and telly. You can’t surprise me anymore,” you declared. Sherlock’s expression contorted into shock as he stared at you in disbelief. You had left the great Sherlock Holmes baffled. The silence was deafening — music to your ears.

When you thought you were winning this argument, a special glint quickly shone in Sherlock’s eyes. Your expression dropped and then you were pushed backward. There was no railing behind you anymore to catch you.

As you were falling, you naturally grasped for something to hold on to. In this case, Sherlock’s coat. The evil smirk on his face was immediately replaced with shock then fear as he was crashing hard into you. Gravity did the rest of the work. With the momentum you had already begun, dragging Sherlock down with you was one of the worst possible outcomes of the situation. A crude curse slipped past his lips and both of you latched onto each other because there was nothing else to brace with.

What was initially meant to be a playful fall down the snowy hill turned into a rolling battle full of frantic thrashing and screaming as both of your bodies thumped and tangled with each other. The two of you occasionally bounced a few inches off the ground and crashed back into the ground, knocking the breath out of both of you. The wild human avalanche down the hill was finally put to a stop when you rolled into a tree. With a loud OOMPH, you and Sherlock flopped into the ground, groaning and croaking in pain. Neither of you moved for the first passing moments, unable to process what just happened.

Your fall was broken when you landed on top of Sherlock, his body sprawled out in the cold snow, rasping heavily. Some snow fell off your form and your arms shook as you propped yourself up, no longer caring about the fact that you applied all the pressure in your friend’s ribs.

“You alright, mate?” you panted, checking up on Sherlock, eyes analyzing him for any serious injuries.

“You take my breath away.” You sputtered and shook your head at his ridiculous humor. “Aren’t you just romantic?” He squinted his eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile but groaned out, “No, really. Please get off my chest.”

“Oh God, sorry,” you scrambled off of him and he rolled over into the snow, gasping for air as he clutched his side in pain. You punched him in the shoulder. “You bloody twat, Sherlock Holmes! Pushing me down a hill by Jove’s sake!”

“I remember it being much more fun when we were younger,” he grunted out, pushing himself onto his forearms. And just then, his eyes burst wide open. His face slack-jawed as his brain computed at top speed. He was onto something.

“Sherlo-”

“FUN, Y/n,” he articulated, scrambling over to you and grabbing you by the shoulders. You stiffened and backed away, startled by his abrupt realization. 

“Oh, Y/n, you are brilliant! This is why we work together!”

“What?! What are you-”

“The kids were abducted because they were having fun! ‘Ray’ is Remus Stooge, another private school kid in the area. The Stooge family owns several of the land plots around this corner of London and they’re the ones funding all three schools — The Stooge’s are plenty wealthy. The children were going to Remus’s home, ditching class time to get a personal house tour of his daddy’s money. The fancy car rides, luxurious delights, shiny sneakers and tailored clothing… Who wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity like that? It only makes sense why they were lured in so easily! Their rich best pal Remus has been the one inviting them right into the trap!”

“What- Sherlock! Where is this all coming from?! How do you even-”

“Trust me, Y/n!! I have it figured out- It all makes sense!” he interjected again. The look on your faces was bizarre. You tossed a handful of snow at him as he blocked it with his hands. “NO?? It doesn’t! This is so sudden-”

Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, brushing off the powder from his coat and yanking you up. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “We have to go tell Lestrade, now! Call John and get over to the Stooge’s place!”

“To arrest the kid?!”

“No, the butler!” He grabbed your gloved hand and dragged you up the steep white hill. You shook your head wildly, “Holmes, you better have a bloody good explanation for this in the cab or there will be hell to pay.” Sherlock smirked triumphantly and squeezed your hand.

“Come, L/n! The game is on!”

Requests are open! <3

[anxious-allie-ren]

I couldn't help myself from posting the next chapter already. I'm just too excited about this story and sharing it with you all! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter as well! It's probably my favorite thing I've written so far.

A few trigger warnings for this chapter: Violence, death, and childhood trauma.

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Erota

Your majesty.

The invitation had arrived at his castle months ago. It sat open on his desk with no response for three weeks. He stares down at it as he finishes putting on his attire for the evening. It was a last minute decision to go. He still wasn't confident in such a decision, but it was too late to go back on it now. His aunt and uncle would be expecting him.

Ben had been a quiet boy. Growing up on the palace grounds was very secluded. High society members visited the King and Queen of Chandrila often. Balls, banquets, and glamorous events took place nearly every fortnight. But it was rare a child would accompany their parents. It was even rarer that Ben was allowed to attend such events.

His father was a strict man. He had married into power, Queen Leia taking control of the kingdom after her father had passed. He was anointed king soon after their marriage and took on numerous responsibilities. Most notable being the military and war plans. He was a courageous soldier, fighting in many of Chandrila's most notable wars. This tough exterior and pride carried into his parenting. Han pushed Ben to be just like him. He was to be strong, both physically and mentally. Any sign of emotion was seen as a weakness.

When Ben was just a boy, no older than four years of age, he had attended a hunting trip with his father and a few other noblemen. He kept to himself as he followed the men deep into the woods. He struggled to carry his bow and arrow, the weapon still larger than him. He observed the men bantering and preparing weapons of their own. He was much too young to understand what was to happen on this trip. But he would soon find out.

The group was stopped for a break within a small clearing. The men chugged bitter wine from their flasks and exchanged raunchy jokes. Ben was too busy watching a brilliantly blue butterfly floating about to absorb their words. He is ripped from his peaceful moment as his father quickly grabs his own weapon near his feet.

"Look across the clearing there, men. We've got a large one!"

Ben follows his fathers line of sight to a marvelous buck grazing the meadow in the distance. He was immediately taken with the animal. He had wooden toys of woodland animals just like it. A smile spread across his face as he watched the buck chew on blades of grass, its long antlers sat on his head like a crown. It reminded him of the crown his father was wearing now. Ben turns to look upon it just as his father pulls back the arrow and releases it. The buck is speared in the chest, just inches from its heart. It collapses in the grass, too stunned to take off. Han yells out in frustration.

"Motherfucker! That was a clear fucking shot!"

Ben's eyes water as he watches the buck writhed in pain, releasing wails that cut through the calm woods. Han looks to Ben and sees the tears trail down his chubby little cheeks. He rips his dagger from his boot and grabs Ben by the back of his collar, dragging him towards the wounded animal. Ben cries out in protest, trying to wriggle from his father's grasp.

"No father! I don't want to go near it!"

Han stops in front of the animal, shoving Ben in front of him and forcing the dagger into his tiny hands.

"Finish him off, boy. End his suffering."

Ben shakes his head, tears still falling from his eyes. He looks from the buck and back to the dagger. Blood is flowing from where it was punctured, creating a pool near his feet.

Ben sniffles and starts to back away. He lets out a small whimper and cries out, "I can't father! It was good! It did nothing wrong!"

Han growls in anger and pushes Ben closer to the animal.

"Do it, Ben! You need to stop being so fucking weak! Good or bad doesn't matter when you're facing another man's sword. All that matters is who comes out of the battle alive."

"But this isn't a battle! It's just an animal!"

Han's anger finally boils over. He grabs Ben's hand, forcing the dagger into his little fist and shoves it through the buck's heart. Ben screams in horror and fear as blood splatters onto his arms and chest. Han releases his grip on his hand, yanking out the dagger and wiping it on his pant leg.

"This kingdom has no use for a sensitive, spineless king. Toughen up, Benjamin or you will fail."

That moment had traumatized him. His father's words sunk into his soul, like a rock sinking to the bottom of the sea. He came back from that trip a bit hardened. As he grew, he continued to collect bricks of trauma, adding them slowly to the wall he hides behind. His fortress was solidified the day his parents passed.

He never got along with his father. His relationship with his mother wasn't good either. When he was an infant, Leia doted on him. She took on the responsibility of caring for him by herself, leaving her other duties to her advisors. She spent as much time with him as possible. But when Ben was about the age of three, she seemed to abandon him. Leia brought on nannies and wet nurses to care for him.

Leia was brought up as an independent, able lady. During her time in the ton, she was one of the most desired debutantes. But by the end of the season, she had chosen Lord Han Solo, the son of a Baron in Chandra. He was below her in status, but she was so enamored with him that they married quickly after meeting. Ben was born just ten months into their marriage. He provided Chandrila with its sought after heir. But a spare would still be needed in the event that tragedy were to strike. Leia tried desperately for another child, but nothing seemed to stick. She went as far as to bring in witch doctors and herbalists in hopes of success. The spare never came and the stress weighed on her greatly. The pain became too much to bear.

Leia returned to her duties and never spoke of children again. She distanced herself from the one she had as some way to cope with her failure. Seeing her living child grow only reminded her what she was lacking. They would remain separated for the rest of her life, only seeing each other at events.

Ben was only fifteen years old when his parents died. The king and queen were travelling to Chandrakant for a meeting with the Earl to discuss funding when they were attacked. Soldiers from a neighboring kingdom ambushed their carriage during the night. They were found in the morning by merchants traveling along that path. When their bodies were brought back to Chandrila and laid to rest, Ben was crowned as king.

During his coronation, he was given the choice to take on a reign name or keep his own. Both his parents had kept their names during their rule. His grandparents had as well. But he made the decision that day to let his past die along with his family. He would take on a new name and bring on a new era for Chandrila. From that day on he was formally known as His Majesty, King Kylo Ren of Chandrila.

Kylo had been living a secluded life for many years at this point. He preferred to stay introverted, doing what he had to for his kingdom and nothing more. The ballroom that was once filled with balls and galas had been retired. An event had not been held at the palace since his parents were alive. Meetings with nobility took place in the throne room. He did not travel. He did not leave the palace grounds.

But Kylo has now come of age, surpassed it by a few years even. His advisors were now beginning to push the idea of marriage on him. A heir and spare would be needed for the succession. Kylo simply brushed off their pestering questions during court. He would take a wife when he was good and ready.

But finding a wife meant leaving the grounds to search. This meant he must attend the events of the ton. Kylo had absolutely no interest in stepping foot in such frivolous festivities. When he decided it was time, he would simply have his advisor pick a lady for him. It's not as if the marriage would ever be anything more than a societal alliance. A way for both notable families to gain from the prospect. The notion of love was not even on Kylo's mind. He had lacked it all his life, never experiencing it to know what he was missing. A marriage and creating an heir would become another royal duty for him to fulfill.

He couldn't deny that he was shocked when the invitation was brought to him in his den. The King and Queen of Corellia had invited him to the first banquet of the season. It was to be held at their summer estate in the countryside of Corellia. He hadn't been there since he was a small boy.

During the nice summer months when the air was humid and the sun stayed in the sky long past his bedtime, his family went to visit the King and Queen. Uncle Luke was his mother's twin brother. They had both been raised in Chandrila and had been very close most of their lives. When they both came of age, it was decided that Chandrila would divide into two kingdoms. One for Princess Leia to rule, and one for Prince Luke. This is how the kingdom of Corellia was created. Ever since, Uncle Luke has ruled those territories.

Kylo had been fond of him when he was young. But when his parents passed and the responsibility of Chandrila was thrusted upon him, Uncle Luke never came to help. He didn't attend their burials. He didn't assist the young boy in the transition. He too, had abandoned him.

He realized on one late night, weeks after the invitation had arrived, that this was some sort of olive branch. A way from Luke to worm his way into Kylo's good graces. But this would not be enough for him. He wanted answers. He wanted justice. Overall, he wanted revenge. So he decided then to accept the invitation. Kylo would attend this banquet and get what he deserved.

But all those plans were put on hold the moment your name was announced to the ton.

Kylo had arrived about an hour ago. He entered through a back passage he remembered as a child, so as to not draw attention to his arrival. He had taken a glass of champagne off a passing tray and stood on the outskirts of the crowd. Young ladies gawked and whispered about him, giggling amongst one another. He paid them no mind, he was on a mission and he intended on completing it.

He was slowly making his way towards the back of the ballroom where his uncle sat when your arrival had been announced. He took no notice of it initially. But he stopped in his tracks as he got a glimpse of you through the crowd. Your deep red dress stood out against the pastels surrounding him. You were delicate in your motions, curtsying before your king and waiting for his command. He watched as Luke approached you, his uncle clearly as enamored with you as he was. Everyone in the room could hear his words as he spoke to you. Singing praises and compliments that undoubtedly made you beam with pride.

Your father had led you away after your interaction with the king. Kylo lost track of you as a group of gentlemen approached him to exchange pleasantries. He did his best to be polite, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he clearly already had. He again tried to make his way through the crowd, only this time he was in search of you.

A petite young woman appeared in front of him before he could get his eyes on you.

She had shiny black hair, pinned up with elegant pins. Her dress was a nauseating pastel green and her jewelry constantly caught the light, nearly making him squint to look at her. She presented her hand to him and gave him a toothy smile.

"Hello, your grace. My name is Charlotte Ventress, the daughter of Lord and Lady Ventress. I saw you standing here all alone and felt so compelled to introduce myself."

Kylo nearly cringes from her introduction. Debutantes we're never meant to approach gentlemen. In fact it was the other way around. Her forwardness was immediately a turn off. It's unlikely he would have been interested in her, if he hadn't already been so taken by you. Kylo clears his throat and takes her hand, giving it a gentle shake.

"Hello, Miss Ventress. I'm humbled by your need for introduction, but I'm afraid you're using the wrong titles."

Charlotte looks at him confused, an eyebrow raising at his statement.

"Is that so? Well, then what title should I be using exactly?"

Her words were laced with attitude and sarcasm. Kylo smirked to himself, looking down at his pristine, shiny dress shoes. Did he look anything less than a king? He figured his attire would have given his status away, that's why he chose not to wear his crown. By her tone, he can only assume she thinks he's below her.

"The correct title would be your majesty, miss."

At this she tries to hold back a chuckle, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. Charlotte places a hand on her hip, her posture becoming more relaxed now. She thinks he's joking.

"Your majesty? Sir, I'm pretty sure the only royalty in this room is sitting over there."

She nods her head towards the back of the room, motioning to the thrones where his aunt and uncle are sat. Oh this poor girl has no clue.

"I believe you're referring to my aunt and uncle. I'm King Kylo of Chandrila, King Luke's nephew."

He watches as the recognition flies across her features. Eyes going wide and eyebrows raising in surprise. Charlotte immediately stands back up, making a poor attempt at presenting herself as dignified. It was much too late for that now.

"Oh, you're majesty! I'm so sorry for my lapse in judgement. How silly of me."

Kylo holds back his eye roll. Just another young woman fluttering her lashes at him for his titles. He nods to her and finishes off his champagne.

"Right, of course. You must excuse me, it seems my glass is empty."

With that he walks away from her, back on his pursuit to find where you'd gone. He comes to the outskirts of the dance floor, watching as lords and ladies waltz around in circles. A waiter begins to pass by and he is quick to place his empty flute on their tray.

Kylo stands in a relaxed position, hands clasped behind his back, as he watches the couples in front of him. He raises his eyes from the dance floor for a moment, hoping to spot your crimson colored dress amongst the crowd. That's when Kylo locks eyes with you from across the room. He takes in your features, admiring your beauty. He admittedly had very little experience with women. It was a rare occasion for him to speak with them. His interaction mostly took place with the ladies in court. All of them married and much older than him.

Kylo finally understood his uncle's words to you earlier. You held his intense gaze, allowing him to see the secrets held within your eyes. He felt like he was stuck in place, frozen in time with just your look. The moment ended abruptly as a ginger haired man stepped in front of you, blocking his view of you and cutting off your eye contact.

He instantly felt possessive. Kylo could see your discomfort through your body language. He kept watch from the side of the dance floor as you took the man's arm and joined him for the next song. He wanted your full attention.

Kylo decided then that he needed more of you. He wanted to know you, needed to know you. If joining the ton and surviving this season was what he had to do to make that happen, then so be it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poor baby Kylo! How are we feeling about Kylo's perspective? I'm hoping to include his view of things very often in this story. Please let me know what you think!

Love,

Allie

[panda-noosh]

taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

   there are guests today.

    little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern. 

   you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

    you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

    you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint. 

   you close your eyes.

    the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

    a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

   “clearly not.”

    “good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

   you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

   rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

   “well, no. i never really asked.”

    “then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

   “then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

    you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

    but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

    breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

    a risky day ahead.

    you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

    the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests. 

   even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

    but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair. 

     finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

    a man you recognise immediately.

    he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions. 

    you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

    the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

    “call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

    you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice. 

    the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

    finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

   you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

   and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

    you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

    and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

    you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

    “all clear.”

   you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

   was he here for you?

   you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

    you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

    it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

   and you’ve known him for a while.

   you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

    having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

    you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

     you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

    you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

    a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

   you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

    “so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

    you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

    you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose. 

    “so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

    “cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

   “why are you here?”

   “ah, asking the right questions now!”

   “just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

    his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little. 

    “fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

   you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much. 

    “you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

    your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting. 

    he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

    he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

   you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

    he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

    “i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

    his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

    “i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

   you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

    “she asked for you.”

    “kaz-”

   “inej is sick.”

    your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

    “sick.” 

    kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

    “so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

   “not walking alongside us, no.”

   you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

   “she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

   you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

    the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

   you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

    kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

    kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

    “you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

   “well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

    you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

   you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip. 

   and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

   it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

   that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life. 

   this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

    the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.     

   you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

    kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.   

   you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

    “spoiled,” he says.

   you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

    “or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

   “i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

    kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

    ouch.

   “we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

    “the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

   “go to hell, kaz.”

    he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

   you pause. “has he invited you?”

   “i don’t need an invite.”

    “you’re not permitted to be there-”

   “i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice. 

    you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

    “sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

    “it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

   “y/n can call me kaz.”

   you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet. 

   “y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

     “mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!” 

   you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

    kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

    you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools. 

    “do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

   “no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

    the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

    you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

    kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

    “mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

    “no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

    you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

    “what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

    “then i get poisoned.”

   he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

   “on hand to do what?”

   “don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

   you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you. 

    “i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

    “never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

    “no life is as bad as the barrel.”

    kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

    even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

    “the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

    “you don’t move on from that.”

   “maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

    his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

    you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

    kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow. 

   ----

    inej really is sick.

   “so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

    you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were. 

   she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

   she whispers, “it’s you.”

   you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

    “what are you doing here?”

    you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

    “yes, it is.”

   “i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

   inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

   “of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

    “i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends. 

   “clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

   “some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

   “and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

   inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

   you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej. 

    finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong. 

    “i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

    her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

   “i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

    “has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

   your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

    inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

    silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

    “he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

    “past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

    inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

    “well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

   ---

    you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

    trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

   tonight is no different.

   the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

   you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

   the bang sounds again.

   you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

   you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

   kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

    dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

    “i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

   you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

   “oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

    you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

    “yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

   you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

   “rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

   you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

    “i can’t.”

    “try.”

   “you know i can’t.”

   you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

   and you know why.

   “i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

    “are they bad again?”

    kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

   a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him. 

    you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

    “trying to get me drunk?”

   “kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

    he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

    “let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

   “didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

    everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

   but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself. 

    “okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

   “did i really wake you?”

    “i couldn’t sleep either.”

    you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

    his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

    you nod. “thanks.”

   “how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

    “i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

    kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body. 

   you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

    ----

     “good morning, royalty.”

    the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

   kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

    “good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

    “i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

    “y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible. 

    kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

    you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

    “you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

   there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny. 

    you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

   “kaz.”

   “he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

   kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

   you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

    “any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

    kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

   and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

    “you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum. 

    “i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

    “he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

   “tone what down?”

   “the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

   “i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

    “oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

    kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

   such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

    “i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.  

   “oh?”

   “she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

   you shrug. she’s right. 

    “that worries me, you know.”

    “nothing worries you, kaz.”

   “the thought of you in danger does.”

   you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

    “why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

    “because everything you say means something bigger.”

   kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz. 

 “are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

   you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

    “since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

   your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

   kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

    “we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

   kaz glares. 

   you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

        “how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

   kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

    “worse?”

    “for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

    “yeah. he does.”    

    you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

    he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

    “does jesper know how to make your brew?”

    there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

    your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

   “listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

   “no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

   kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

   you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

    “for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

   “because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

   “because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

    his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

    your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

    but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

   you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence. 

----

    final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

    kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so. 

   tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now. 

   kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

    you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

   you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

    finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

    kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

   the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

   your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

   “what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

   kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz. 

    he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

   you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

    “how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

   “why do you care?”

   he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

   he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

   “it was enough.”

   “if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

    your head snaps up. soft spots?

   he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

   you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

    “so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

   your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

   and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

   you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

     “well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

     “you are unbelievable.”

   kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

   “you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

    “you know i am.”

    you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

     “this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

   “is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

   he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

   “there is no one worse, kaz.”

   his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

   “don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

   and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop. 

    “saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

    “is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

   and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

    his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

    but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished. 

    “is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

   “kaz-”

    “what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

   “kaz, i’m-”

   “what about this?”

   he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

   you wrench away from him, gasping.

    he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

    you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

   “kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

   he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

   he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

   “kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

   “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

   you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

   but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

    kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

     “kaz-”

   “stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

    you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

    ----

    “why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

    you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup. 

   “are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

    you wince, which is answer enough.

   “what about this time?”

   “he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

    inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

   “wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

   “no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

   “that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

   “well,  you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

   you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too. 

    but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

    “i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

   “can you?”

     “take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

    “he said we were nothing.”

    “he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.”

    you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

   “well, do you love him back?”

   your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

   she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

    you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

    so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

    a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

    “what are you suggesting?”

   inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

   you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

   you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

    even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother. 

    and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

   and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

    it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

   you nearly cry at the sight of it.

   you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind. 

   you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

    “morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

   “i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

    you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

   you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

    you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

    and then the door opens.

    your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

   “kaz.”

    he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

    his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

   “kaz-”

    he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

    “kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

    his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

    but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

    “is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

    “yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

    he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

   “everything.”

   the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

    “everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

    “i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

     he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric. 

    he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.” 

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy! 

Prologue ~ Chapter Two

Chapter One: Meeting 

 Summer had always been Aelin’s favourite time of the year. It was the soft breezes and the long days, the late nights. It was the time of year where she didn’t have to be a princess. There was no need for the formalities or the pretending. 

Summer was the season of freedom. 

And when she had woken up that morning, the sun was still low in the sky, the mist dancing between the trees and the bird song was mellowed, quieter somehow. She had known that summer was over; her Fae senses could feel the shift of the season. Summer giving way to the crispness of autumn. And despite the peacefulness and beauty of autumn, it was also her least favourite time of the year.

Court would begin again. Gone would be the long nights of stargazing, the lazy days lounging in the sun with a book or the trips to the Staghorns; now was the time for her royal duties to start once again. 

A gentle tap of the door had Aelin groaning and shifting in bed. 

“Your Highness? Your father would like to know if you will be eating breakfast with them this morning.” Her maid Elspeth was one of the good ones. She was in her late forties and had been with Aelin for her entire twenty years. She was a short woman, her hair starting to grey at the roots, her cheeks always rosy and plump. But Aelin loved her like a mother.

Elspeth slid into the room and closed the door behind her, she strode over to the towering windows which looked out over the forest beyond the castle. The thick curtains were opened to reveal a grey morning. Elspeth didn’t wait for a response from Aelin as she continued her way around the room to the balcony on the far side. She opened the doors and Fleetfoot, Aelin’s beloved dog perked up and trotted off to the fresh air. 

Elspeth was well versed in the ways of Aelin. Which is why her final task was to perch on the edge of her bed and pull the covers back. 

“Aelin, you have guests arriving today.” 

She shot up in bed, staring at Elspeth. She had forgotten about the guests. If she had, she definitely would have been up earlier. She said as much. 

“The Queen of Doranelle, Sellene Whitethorn is arriving with her family.” 

Of course. There had been turmoil in Doranelle for many years and finally, only a few months ago, they had decided on a new queen. It had been a surprise to her Uncle Orlon when it had been announced, but nonetheless, had extended an invitation to visit once the new queen had settled into her new role. Just as the offer would be extended to me one day- when I became queen. 

“I suppose I cannot get away with my usual attire today?” She said. Elspeth laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. A dress will be required.” 

Elspeth had picked a simple yet regal gown in a deep Terrasen green. Elspeth tried and failed to get Aelin to braid her hair, or at least put it into a simple updo. But Aelin enjoyed her hair free, the long blonde locks were one of her favourite assets, and never understood the need to hide it. 

She surveyed herself in the mirror, despite her late night with Sam, she looked awake and bright eyed. Ready for a day of acting like a princess. 

When Aelin arrived into the breakfast room, her father and mother were already seated, Orlon too. She took up the seat beside her mother and smiled apologetically to the three of them. Tardiness was one of her weaknesses and had frustrated all of them to no end. But with the night she had just had… if only her parents knew. 

“Late night again, Aelin?” Orlon grinned. He had always been privy to Aelin’s whereabouts, where she would sneak off to, who she would meet. 

Sam was not royal, in fact, he held no title in Terrasen. He had moved when he had been sixteen years old; escaping the grips of an assassin in Rifthold. He had stowed away on a ship, not knowing where it was going, but hoping that anywhere was better than before. He arrived in Terrasen with a few coins and his wits about him. He’d managed to secure work at a library. The owner had been old and frail, unable to lift the books, unable to do much at all. Sam had taken it upon himself to help in any way he could. And six years later he was the proud owner. It’s where Aelin had met him. Since then, she had been sneaking off to see Sam every chance she could; the only person knowing being Orlon. 

She knew it could never be more than it was with Sam, a reason why she had been so quick to shut down his offer the night before. And despite Terrasen being a forward-thinking country— the King was married to a man for Gods sake— they still drew the line at commoners and royalty marrying, or even being involved, the only exception being a mating bond; something so rare and final that no King or God could argue with it. So she tried to enjoy the stolen moments she had with Sam. Avoiding the advances of any foreign royalty that may come her way. The King only allowing it on the condition that when a serious offer of marriage arose, Aelin would accept and take her place as the next heir to the throne. She loved Sam, and on occasion had been angry at the impossibility of it being anything other than what it was now.

There was the other problem of her immortal lifespan. Sam was human and at some point it would have to end anyway.

“Did you forget about the arrival of the Whitethorns today?” Her father asked.

“It may have slipped my mind.” An easy lie. She took a bite of the pastry in front of her, savouring the sweetness. “But I am here now, and ready to be the perfect princess.” Another bite. 

Her mother chuckled to herself, sipping on the herbal tea that she would drink every morning without fail. Orlon cleared his throat, giving her a look. 

“The queen is new to this Aelin. We must ensure she is welcomed and feels comfortable during her stay.” 

A roll of her eyes. “I think I can manage being nice for a few days.” 

“Weeks.”

She stopped mid-chew. 

“The Whitethorns will be here for at least three weeks. Their castle is under renovations, so we offered them a place to stay whilst they were underway.” 

She had never heard of such a thing. A new queen, leaving her territory for weeks? 

“Darling, you are not expected to entertain them alone, nor be present at every minute.” Her mother had always been the diffuser; ensuring the conversations remained civil, if not for her sanity, for the sake of Aelin’s temper that had resulted in a few fires. “But the sneaking off will have to stop. Lysandra will understand.” Lysandra being Aelin’s excuse for when she was actually sneaking off to see Sam. 

She smiled politely and confirmed that she would be well behaved for when the guests arrived.

And that was that. 

She finished breakfast quickly and excused herself before they could make her stay longer. Aelin made her way to the training ground just beyond the walls of the garden. Orlon had had it built when it was evident Aelin needed a place to train with her powers. Fire magic was a rare gift, one that hadn’t been in the royal family since Brannon. She was grateful for the space, even if she no longer needed to train to the same extent. Only meeting with her trainer once every month.

“I thought I might find you here.” Lysandra’s voice echoed across the stones. “Hiding?” Lysandra laughed. 

“Something like that.” 

Lysandra was silent as she perched on the stone bench, watching as Aelin made shields of flame, as she danced the fire through her fingers and flung her powers towards the wall.

“I won’t be available for a while Lys. The Queen of Doranelle and her family are arriving today.” Aelin held the flame in her palm. “I need you to send a message to Sam for me.”

Lysandra had been the daughter of one of her mothers maids. And when her mother had died, Aelin’s mother could not stand the thought of Lysandra going to an orphanage. So she had housed Lysandra and trained her as a lady-in-waiting for Aelin. And even though they hated each other as children, the older they got the more they understood the other. 

“I heard one of the Whitethorn princes is extremely handsome. Do you think he’d be interested?” Aelin snorted. Any person would be insane not to be attracted to Lysandra. 

“Gods help the poor male if you pursue him.” Aelin returned to her flame.

“We all know that you’re going to marry me one day.” 

They both whirled at the sound of the male voice at the archway. Aedion stood there in all his glory. He wore a midnight blue jacket and dark pants, clothes for important people, Aelin thought. It was envy that Aelin was feeling. Aedion may be a prince, but he would never be King; marrying Lysandra would never be a problem, if she ever agreed, that was. 

Lysandra rolled her eyes and flipped her hair to the side. “Aedion, we both know you can’t handle me.” 

“We’ll see, Lysandra.” Mischief glittering in his eyes. 

Aedion took his wandering eyes away from Lysandra and back to Aelin, who had already lost interest in their banter. 

“What do you want Aedion? Aelin and I were busy.” 

“I’m here to tell Aelin that the Whitethorns will be here any moment, and her father wishes for her to be in the great hall to welcome them.” 

No peace. Summer was well and truly over then. Her flame flickered out and she brushed down her dress that was lightly coated in dust. She shook out her hair and let it fall past her shoulders, running her fingers through it to release any tangles. 

“How do I look?” 

“Like your father is going to kill you when he see’s the mess on your clothes.” Aedion held his arm out, she linked hers through it and smiled back at Lysandra who was brushing her own dress down.

“I’ll see you later Aelin.” A smile. “Always a pleasure, Aedion.” And then she was gone. 

Aelin and Aedion strolled down the path that led back into the gardens and then into the tall white palace of Orynth. The guards bowed their heads as she passed, the only acknowledgement that they would give. They continued into the palace, the halls empty of people. 

“Did they have to put out so many flowers? I feel like I’m just going to sneeze the entire time.” Aedion laughed, but didn’t respond as they approached the doors to the great hall. 

The room was only ever used for special occasions, I suppose a new queen included that. The room was large, taking up an entire wing of the castle, it’s ceiling tall, gold chandeliers dropping from it. The walls were painted white, with green and gold accents dotted around— the colours of Terrasen. The room was magnificent, every inch dripping in wealth and splendour. 

When she entered she dropped into a low curtsey. Orlon was sat atop the Antler Throne, his eyes fixed on her and Aedion— who was also bowing low. Her father and mother were sat on two smaller seats to Orlon’s left. A second, smaller throne rested next to Orlon’s; for the consort of the king. Which was unusually empty; Orlon’s husband usually filling the spot. 

As soon as she was in her place and everyone else were in their correct spots the guard at the end of the hall announced the arrival of the first Whitethorn family members. Aelin knew this formality all too well— get the lesser family members out of the way first, and then announce the most important. So she dropped her eyes and fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. She kept her eyes averted as the guard listed off the names of lesser royals and their spouses. A pinch on her shoulder made her look up, she spun to berate Aedion for being an ass, when the guard started to speak once more. 

“Your majesty, I would like to present Rowan Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle and  Endymion Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle.” 

The two males stepped through the open doors and she met the eyes of the shorter male. He was handsome, of course; and she smiled politely at him, wishing this would go faster. He smiled back, lowering his head slightly before doing the same to Aedion. Aelin tore her eyes away and looked at the second male stood next to him. Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld what was in front of her. 

It took him a moment to look toward her, and when their eyes met she felt every hair on her body stand up. His pine green eyes met her own and it was like the world was falling around her. She swallowed and forced herself to breathe, her body heating. 

The male in front of her seemed to be doing the same thing. His breathing turned shallow and he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. 

It was like everything around her was spinning or maybe she was falling, Orlon’s voice faded to the background, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart. 

As she stared into the eyes of her mate.

[mxvladdy]

Ooh~ I got somewhat of an angst(/comfort -hopefully??) ficlette request!

Established relationship with Diavolo. He thinks everything is going great. Until one night MC tells him that he makes them feel inadequate.

He's so BIG (they are literally/physically so much smaller than him, man is IMPOSING) and it's not like they have demon stamina/strength. they're afraid he gets bored, or will, in time.

He is SO IMPORTANT to everyone and everything and always so busy and they're just a distraction when he could be resting between meetings or courting with the intent to make an heir and they're just a human, a pretty average one at that, can't even use their magic like Maddi or Solomon

*clutches my gay little heart* I'm weak for giant puppy boys 😢. I love this idea! Hope I did it justice! P.s-hope ya ain’t lactose intolerant like I am, cuz I got cheesy at the end lmaooooo

Edit: 6/15- Here is the link to part 2!

  You feel inferior or inadequate? No, not his little Giglio.

He doesn't see at first. He is observant, sure. It comes with the territory as a prince, but he is so blind when it comes to you.

You're perfect and he wishes your relationship to be just as perfect. He can't explain why. Somewhere deep in the vacuous pits of his hearts, he yearns for your happiness.

He courts you like any demon would. Showing off his strength and magic to a maddening degree. He will lay fresh kills at your feet for you too.

It makes demons and other creatures swoon, but not a great turn-on for humans it seems. Barbatos had to pull him aside several times to remind him that too much magic could kill you, and he was tired of getting blood stains out of the wood floors.

He just wants to prove he is enough to you too. He'll do more human courting rituals as time goes on. Taking you topside to eat at human restaurants or do quaint human traditions.

Even in your realm, he can’t get away from gawking and curious humans wanting to be in his presents. He has the magnetic pull only a devil could pull off.

He doesn't notice your reluctance to be seen with him or sullen attitude till it was almost too late.

Balls are a common occurrence for him. Keeps the royal families in check, strengthens ties, or, some unfortunate times cutting them down in a show of force and warning for the rest of them.

Diavolo doesn't hate these events. They come as easy as breathing to him after centuries of doing it. But the flocking, gawking, and borderline reverent guest did get stifling. Having you on his arm made it bearable. The courtiers at least gave him some distance. Where were you anyway?

The barest flicker of black and gold muslin catches the crown prince's eye. The expensive fabric flitting around the corner of the ballroom to the restricted section. He wasn't worried. Diavolo knew that outfit and the delectable scent of his most prized jewel that wore it. You were allowed anyway you wished. Though he wished you were on his arm right about now. Ah well-

He turns back to his compatriot nodding along politely at the dull topic and takes a sip from his flute. He hums delighted by the fruity dry drink. Honestly, he wasn't sure how many of these he had had anymore. But it was just as sweet and tangy as his first glass. The bubbles ticking his nose and the liquor make his head fuzzy and his stomach hot. Mmm... He would have to complement Barbatos after this was over. His experiments were simply divine. Diavolo excuses himself from his conversation partner politely. He needed another drink if he was going to have a chat as dry as that again and survive. Fresh drink in hand he scans the massive hall for you. You should have been back by now… Odd. Perhaps you had called it a night early? He can't blame you. The redundancy and boring pushes for political power did get old fast. Smiling into his bubbling glass he has half a mind to join you. Sleeping the night away with you in his arms? Hells, he just might trade the crown for a day for a bloody break.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" A petite little incubus bowed low, wrapping his tail around his leg respectfully. Diavolo blinked up from his glass. Ah, yes. The game wasn't done yet.

It takes another three hours of dancing and glad-handing before he could finally extract himself from the ballroom. His feet were sore and swollen in their tight leather confines, his formal attire becoming itchy with sweat. He was ready for bed. No, a hot bath, tea then bed. No. A hot bath with you, tea then bed. Yes, a perfect ending to make up for a sub-par party.

Your shared quarters were dark when he entered. The smoky smell of recently snuffled candles greets him as he slips in. He frowns. The outer chambers looked to be untouched. The hearth cold and empty of ash. Your evening outfit wasn't spewn over the lounge and floor like it normally would be after a ball.

You often retired early from these parties, but you always waited for him here. Nestled up in the furs in front of the fire. A warm welcoming smile ready to greet him as he enters. "My love?" Diavolo calls out to the empty room. He winces at how loud he was. Perhaps he had indulged in his cups a bit too much.

He cocks his head listening for the sounds of running water or your cute little snores. Perhaps you had already gone to sleep? Silence greets him. He begins to panic now. Were you some elsewhere in the palace? Had some oppositional little cretin tried to harm you? He knew some at his party tonight were vying for him to go back to the old ways. Eliminating you would be a prerogative to those fools.

No, Barbatos had his eyes everywhere tonight. The complex webbing of his magic was nigh impossible to circumvent. Diavolo could feel it crawling over his skin, though the feeling was fading now that he was in his private chambers. Lucifer and his brother were ever vigilant too at these parties. As much as they bickered and annoyed his other guest they were skilled watchdogs, and keeping you safe was a top priority to all of them.

He reaches out through the shadows of his chambers searching for you frantically. His magic bleeds into every corner of his large private rooms. The vice around his chest lessens when he senses you on the private balcony. He goes to you, shrugging off his collars and chains as he moves, leaving a forgotten trail of priceless treasure behind him. "Darling," he breathes a sigh of relief seeing your silhouette in the light of his realms many moons. "Was the party not to your liking?" Diavolo flops onto your shared bed with a groan of pleasure. His feet now happy to not have his weight on them anymore. He runs his fingers through the vast expanse of cold silk. It wakes him up slightly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you? I can think of quite a few things more pleasurable than a swarm of stuffy demons."

"You’re drunk Dia." You don't move to face him. Your eyes still upcast to look at the clear evening sky.

His head lolls to the side to watch you curiously. You can feel his eyes follow the trail of your hands while you stroke at the marble railing. His family crest glistening on your finger. "No, no, not drunk. Tipsy perhaps? Or is the word ‘buzzed’ more appropriate?" He chuckles. "Perhaps you could sober me up with a kiss? You always know how to make me feel amazing."

Your breath catches at his words. A pathetic little sob escaping you. He is sober now. Instead of a warm kiss alighting his muddled thoughts to bring the world back into sharp beautiful clarity, it feels as if he had been submerged in ice. He approaches you with inhuman speed. His clawed fingers were gentle on your shoulders.

He turns you to face him. Crystalline tears were trapped in your lashes. Your cheeks were ruddy and your lips were swollen.  In any other circumstance, such a visage would be a privilege to see. But these tears were cold and filled with pain. Lips red hot not by his kisses and fangs, but from nervous chewing and pulling. Your cheeks were streaked and puffy from countless hours spent alone and crying.

"Giglio mio, cosa ti affligge?" He cups your cheeks rubbing the chill away from your skin.

"Why- why do you even waste your time with me?" You hiccup.

“I don’t understand.”

You part from him, backing up to the railing. “What do you see in me?”  You ask, arm raised in question. He takes in your body. You were adorned in his colors and his scent, it makes the territorial part of him rumble in satisfaction. Your delicate human flesh radiates a warmth demons could never replicate. You were small, sweet, and his. What was he missing? “What will happen when you find someone better? Someone who will- who can grow old alongside you. A demon or witch, strong and talented.”

Your wavering words don’t register with him. How could you say these things? Did you think he would allow you to grow old without him? You were his, just as he was yours, or as much as he is able of being yours. It was a laughable thought but he knew to hold his tongue. Humans always get in a tizzy about death.“I don’t-” He starts ready to brush your concerns away. The flash of his perfect teeth only angers you.

“Do not play dumb with me!” You say jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Look at you. Think of who you are compared to me. Look at how they all cling to you, all those pretty demons and witches with something to offer you.”

Something better than me.

The words hang unspoken between you and leave him stunned. He had so much he wished to say but knew tonight was an inopportune time. Your emotions were running high, too high for him to successfully navigate. Especially in his compromised state. He would have to admit defeat tonight. “I am sorry if I have neglected you and your feelings. Please, let's go to bed. I want- I need to understand. But-”

“You’re drunk.” You repeat chuckling without humor. You wipe at your face. “I get it. We’ll talk in the morning?”

Diavolo puts a hand to his chest. “Of course. You will have all my time tomorrow.”

You wake alone the next morning, the sheets beside you cool but not made. You expected that though. He was never one to stay in bed even on the rare days off. It was the downside of his status and routine.

You rise alone and head to the bathroom, the gargantuan space was still slightly warm and steamy. Good, that means you didn’t wake up too much later than Dia. You shower quickly, washing away the grime of lasts night’s nervous breakdown. You were so embarrassed, collapsing all over Diavolo in jealous self-pity. He had more important things to deal with than some weepy human.

You need to go find him and apologies, tell him not to worry about it. You knew what being courted by him would entail. You swore up and down you could handle it, and you could. You will. This was the worst time to falter too he had some pressing deadlines and important figureheads coming around this week. Even one loose gear in his well-oiled machine could damage any number of things. You refused to be the reason he failed. Steeling yourself, you dress quickly, determined to put your new plan in motion. Apologize, promise to do better, and then hide at R.A.D until you could face him again.

It doesn’t take you long to find your demon. He had been waiting for you. You enter the den in a flurry of movement phones in hand to check with Lucifer to see where the prince might be. “Join me?” His deep baritone makes you jump in alarm. Your phone flies out of your hands to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

Diavolo sits, sprawled out on his couch. His favorite terry cloth robe is tied loosely around his broad figure. He watches you with a growing frown, his strong jaw perched on his fist. You freeze. “Please?” He offers you his free hand. You take it timidly. He grasps you firmly and lifts you effortlessly onto his lap. You rest your head on his strong chest. He smells of juniper berries and oranges. Bright, fresh, and sharp. Their combined scents mixing with his natural musk put you at ease. The clenching panic around your heart easing slightly. You eye the breakfast layout before the two of you on the low coffee table. The banquet was still untouched though you do not know how long Dia had been sitting here. You felt the tiny pulses of magic radiating off the table.

“To keep it warm,” Diavolo answers your unspoken question. He moves you in his lap so he can reach for a plate. Filling it to the brim with an assortment of pastries and warmed jams he hands it to you before filling his coffee cup. “I didn’t know how long you wished to sleep.”  

You take the plate meekly. “I-thank you.” You eat in relative silence, eyes locked down on the treccia slowly disappearing on your plate. You were too nervous to look at Diavolo. “When do you have to get back to work?” You ask.

“I don’t-” He adds a hefty dollop of heavily whipped cream to his coffee. “I took the day off.” Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“Giglio.” Diavolo sighs heavily. He puts his coffee aside to cradle you. “Never be sorry for needing time.” His large hands rest over your thigh and shoulder. “I promised we would talk today, and I am nothing but a devil of my word.” He kisses your crown, his thumbs rubbing your skin comfortingly. “Tell me your worries.”

“What do you see in me?” You blurt out looking up at him. “What could you ever see in a human that you couldn’t get from someone closer to your stature?”

“You have something no other being has ever had before.” He answers effortlessly. He had thought about this time and time again in private. He had lost count of the nights spent in his study stewing over this very topic. You captivated him in a way he still couldn’t fully comprehend.

You scoff at the nonanswer. “What? A soul?”

Diavolo sucks his teeth in distaste. Your voice was so bitter. “Do you think I don’t have a soul?” He counters, smiling ruefully down at you.

“Do you?” You are genuinely curious. Satan had been very upfront with the fact that he didn’t and he was a full-blooded demon. When you had asked Barbatos he had just shrugged. 

Diavolo looks wistful for a moment. Golden eyes glazing over as he gets lost in thought. “Who knows?” He admits. “Souls are a precious commodity, true. But such things mean very little to me when it comes to you. No, the thing you have is my trust. You came here with nothing and expected nothing of me but a safe and successful exchange program. There was no social climbing or cloak and daggers with you- or perhaps you are so skilled I cannot see it!” His chuckle shakes you both. “I feel as though you do not see me as just a prince, yet you still respect the title, the authority, and the customs that come along with it. You see what I have to offer and don’t ask for more than I can give you.”

“What will happen when you find that I no longer do that for you? When someone else could do it better and give you eternity along with it?” His words bring you hope, but hope did little when you knew the inevitable outcome.

“Why would I look when I am more than happy where I am?” He dodges your question. He would cross that bridge and bear that cross when you find out on your own.

“But-”

He hushes you with a flurry of kisses across your face, dipping low over you. You squeak as he dangles you precariously over the side of the leather couch. “Come, eat with me.” He says between kisses. “Enjoy a day away from the prying eyes of scorned socialites. Let me show you how devoted I am.” He releases you to pick up a piece of bruschetta. Popping it into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction he turns back to the cooling food, his jovial mood returning. You huff, flicking off a stray bit of diced tomato from his chin.

“Fine- as long as you let me help you catch up on all the work you're missing tomorrow.”  

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! I love your writing! I'm gonna send five prompts, I hope at least one of them inspires you and you have fun with them. Prompt #1: Wang Lingjiao (Wen Chao's mistress) interacting with Meng Yao in Nightless City, can be a ship but not necessarily (I... guess you could count shipping it as infidelity towards Wen Chao??? so def don't write ship if it makes you uncomfortable). Preferably WLJ pov, with her making numerous not always accurate assumptions about Meng Yao's role at Wen Ruohan's court, maybe sort of assuming he is to WRH what she is to WC and therefore approaching him with something like ~camaraderie (whether MY plays along or laughs her off I will leave to you)

ao3

Friends were a luxury that Wang Lingjiao had never been well-off enough to have, not when her tenuous position might be lost at any minute by a pair of seductive eyes or a new (not better) pair of tits, but it wasn’t like she was totally without any fellow feeling.

“Well done,” she said to the boy with Nie braids in his hair like he thought it’d make him something he wasn’t.

He blinked, surprised, and fixed her with the same pleasant, competent, I’m-here-for-your-pleasure smile that she’d seen him use on everyone else. “Lady Wang, whatever do you mean?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes. Sure, he wasn’t doing anything more stunning than getting himself some off-hours food from the kitchens, same as her, but there was no way he didn’t know what she meant. 

He knew. Oh, he knew.

“For selling something else,” she clarified, and saw the darkness creep into that bright and clear gaze he was always pretending with, hiding behind; he couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what she was saying now. Personally, she’d rather be on her back in Wen Chao’s bed than helping out in the Fire Palace, but it was the principle of the thing. “And drop the ‘lady’ shit while we’re in the Nightless City. There’s no point in pissing off Lady Ma.”

His face didn’t give away any obvious tells, like eyebrows shooting up or eyes going wide, but she could feel that he was surprised. “You – care about that?”

Ma Liyuan was Wen Chao’s wife, officially, and Wang Lingjiao’s official job was as her maid, except of course she didn’t do any maid stuff because she was too busy fucking Wen Chao. Still, she would have thought that this Meng Yao character would know better.

“Born in a brothel, were you?” she guessed, and his face closed up. “Don’t be so squeamish. She told me to do it, of course. If she can’t keep him, better that she control him through me than let someone from the outside sink their claws into him. Doesn’t mean she wants it rubbed in her face or anything, though.”

It wasn’t an uncommon story, and he nodded slowly as she went to pick out some food – she could get better fare when she ate with Wen Chao, of course, but he liked the illusion of her being dainty and pristine, as if you could get tits like hers without having a decent meal on the regular, and so she supplemented in private.

“Someone told me you were from Yingchuan,” he said from behind her. “Yingchuan Wang sect.”

“I am,” she said, tearing at the flesh of an apple with her teeth. “What, the intonation didn’t give me away?”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I thought – Yingchuan Wang is a cultivation sect.”

Gentry, he meant. 

“Sure is,” Wang Lingjiao said, and her lips twisted in derision. “What, did you think it was all fun and games after you get brought across the threshold? Did your mother fill your head with dreams of your legitimate father sweeping in and buying your freedom and hers, setting her up in a nice little courtyard and you in disciple robes, then seeing your merit and giving you the respect you deserve?”

He was quiet. Brothel girls, she thought to herself. Always the same old tune.

“My mother was a whore, too, only she did get brought in as a concubine,” she said. “Nice and official, past the threshold and everything. The official wives hated her, of course: shorted her on firewood in the winter and water in the summer, always gave her the worst pieces of cloth to make clothing and no allowance to buy anything else, gave us incense that’d give you itches and food that gave you the runs.”

“That happens everywhere,” he said.

“She got that nice little courtyard,” Wang Lingjiao said. “It even had a nice little gateway to the outside world – not for her to go out, mind you, that wouldn’t be proper for an official concubine. But it worked perfectly well for men to come in, with all the earnings flowing to the family coffers.”

She laughed at the expression on his face.

“It’s one pimp or another,” she told him. “Men always want something from you, always, don’t you know that? And when they think you’re already dirty, they don’t think too hard about what they’re asking. I was born inside the door to a proper legitimate father, never spent a day of my life in a brothel, and they still sold me out just the same as any madam – no, worse. The stuff these righteous bastards ask for is always ten times worse.”

“Worse?” he echoed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked him. “Even a whore that’s lost her charm still doesn’t have to do much more than lie on her back and spread her legs, but look at you – look at me. Running around catering to their every need, doing every nasty deed that they don’t want to do because that’s all we’re good for in their eyes.”

He grimaced.

“I’m in charge of getting new women for A-Chao’s bed, when he’s in the mood for variety,” Wang Lingjiao said. “And for getting rid of any accidents that might happen later, my own or others’. The Wen clan doesn’t believe in them, if you understand me; if he wants kids, he’ll get them through Lady Ma or nobody. And if a woman turns him down, it’s my job to punish her, or else he’ll start saying I don’t care enough, that I’m looking elsewhere…”

She laughed and took a bite of some pork.

“I’d do it anyway, of course,” she said, chewing. “All those little bitches that think they’re better than me, it’s a pleasure to knock them down to size. And surprise, surprise, once they don’t have their looks, suddenly they’re more than happy to come around begging at A-Chao’s door to see what they can get, since now the righteous ones don’t want them anymore…Peel off all that shiny exterior and it’s all the same underneath.”

Meng Yao didn’t like what she was saying, she could tell. Not that she cared.

“Find yourself a fool,” she advised him. “A-Chao’s not bad to me, all things considered. I’ve been by his side for a few years now and his tastes are pretty run-of-the-mill, not like his brother or his father; a bit of ego stroking - ooh, you’re so strong, so capable, I’ve never seen anyone as big as you, that sort of thing - and he likes coming on my tits. Sect Leader Wen, though? He’s too clever. You won’t be able to keep his interest for long, not even with those ingenious little torture machines you keep inventing for him, and then he’ll have you doing the real scut work.”

“I appreciate your consideration,” he said stiffly. Didn’t like his work being compared to someone like her, did he?

Men.

“I hear things about the brothels in Lanling,” she offered, just to needle him. “Not just perfume and flowers and a bit of witty conversation, not for men with all the money in the world; they like getting a little extra. If you’d gotten taken in the way you wanted, I’d bet that’s the job you’d get: you’d be seeing those women every day, bringing the women in smiling and taking them out crying – or worse. Some jobs you aren’t meant to come back from, after all; my best friend growing up ended up that way. You couldn’t even recognize the body as human below the neck.”

He was too well-trained to glare, but Wang Lingjiao could tell he wanted to. Someone like him, who signed up to do torture work, probably wouldn’t mind the bodies, she reflected, and shook her head.

“What’s Qinghe like, anyway?” she asked, nodding at his braids, actually curious. “Secretive sorts, and the one or two times my people acted as hosts to their inner sect disciples, they always turned down any offers for late night company.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said.

“Stop having a stick up your ass. I’m not saying you provided services yourself, and even if you did I’m hardly one to judge. I just want to know. You were close with that big man of theirs, their sect leader, weren’t you? Sect Leader Wen sure talks about it enough.”

Talked about it the way Wen Chao talked about Wang Lingjiao getting close to a woman he was pursuing, sometimes. There was really no accounting for taste – Sect Leader Wen could have any woman he wanted and often did, her and Lady Ma included, and even sometimes at the same time; yet what he really wanted, apparently, was to hear Meng Yao talk about Sect Leader Nie’s personal habits.

Probably he wanted the joy in breaking him or something. Wang Lingjiao didn’t make it her business to try to guess, though she supposed Meng Yao did.

“No way someone as sharp as you didn’t pick up some clues about what he likes,” she continued. “Come on, what is it? He like beating his whores or something?”

“He didn’t frequent whores,” Meng Yao said. “And he didn’t take lovers.”

He smiled, faintly, probably at her expression of disbelief.

“He liked slaughtering Wen-dogs,” he added. “Rather a lot. See that you don’t end up on the wrong side of his saber. He didn’t make allowances for women.”

Wang Lingjiao tossed her hair – there was no need to bring in blood and war into their perfectly nice conversation! – and huffed. “Oh, I get you. The marrying type, then?” she sneered. “The ones that’ll give you their heart and forgive you for everything, then end up wearing green hats for cuckolds when it turns out the one they like isn’t near as virtuous as them? What a fool!”

“I thought you said I should find myself a fool,” Meng Yao said mildly.

“You still have to be able to keep him,” she mocked. “If you could get someone like Sect Leader Nie on the hook, why would you be busting your ass here?”

That shut him up.

“Well, your loss is Sect Leader Wen’s gain, I guess,” she said, and put aside her plate without washing it. The kitchen staff could clean up for her. “Ugh, I can’t wait for this war to be over already. I miss the discussion conferences! Even though I had to stay back with the servants, at least you got to see some new people…that last one, with the archery, that was a fun one.”

She grinned. “All the sect leaders came here to sit at Sect Leader Wen’s feet, your father included. He asked all three of his housekeeping maids to serve him in bed, you know. All at once. Brave man, at his age…come to think of it, you might want to check the nursery. See if you have some siblings there. Who knows? Maybe they’ll grow up to be competition.”

Meng Yao said nothing.

Wang Lingjiao laughed again.

“Have fun in the Fire Palace, Meng Yao,” she said, sashaying away. “Try not to end up on the wrong side of it.”

See? It was almost like being friends.

[twancingyunhao]

Your Princes

Pairing: Prince! Seonghwa x Princess! Reader x Prince! Yeosang

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1093

A/N: so thank you for waiting for this, I hope you all like it! I know it was meant for 300 followers, but it's super late and for that I apologize. But this was a lot of fun to write and I hope you get as much enjoyment!

There you stood, your gown swallowing your figure as your eyes scanned the dance floor, seeing the many nobles of the Kingdom of Rethia, your kingdom, engaging in the bright atmosphere of the party. A part for you. To sell your soul to a man you were to meet here, perhaps dance with, but not really know. A party where you were expected to choose your partner, the man who would rule Rethia by your side, after a first meeting and perhaps a turn about the dance floor.

How did your parents, your kingdom, expect you to find a suitable partner in such a ridiculous manner? You let out a huff, crossing your arms and leaning against the pillar behind you as you chewed on the inside of your cheek in annoyance. You were definitely not giving off the approachable aura of a princess looking to meet her prince.

"Well, you seem such a pleasant peach. I had heard tale that the Princess was quite a bright young lass, but all I see here is a sour face." A deep voice shocked you out of your fit from the other side of your pillar, and as you turned, a smile filled your face as the Prince of the neighboring kingdom of Abrasea, Park Seonghwa, standing tall. Your eyes scanned his form up and down, noting that he looked incredible in his pristine white suit.

"Hwa, you of all people here should know I am as bitter as the bitter melon adorning those platters on the buffet." You laughed, your hand landing on his chest. Your eyes searched the vicinity behind him, looking for a second familiar face that was almost sure to be accompanying your childhood friend.

Seonghwa followed your line of sight, smiling as memories from childhood filled his mind. A certain rough-and-tumble little princess frequently getting into trouble, always dragging himself and his best friend from the nearby kingdom of Kouvell into her shenanigans.

He recalled how she got the small scar that was hardly noticeable under her eye, currently covered completely in make-up. Recalled her falling out of a tree in the courtyard of the palace of Kouvell, his calling for their friend in alarm and fear, calling for the young prince--

"Yeosang! You're here! I knew you'd be here if Park was here!" Your gleeful voice snapped Seonghwa from his memory as he watched you run to the third member of your ensemble, caught in his arms and pulled into a full spin, the tresses of your gown lifting in the chaos of your excitement.

"Princess, my sweet Y/N, why have you been brooding over here on the side when you're supposed to be meeting proper suitors?" Yeosang's sweet timbre spoke, bringing a red dust across your cheeks as he brushed his hand lightly over the skin. You bit your lip and look down as a chuckle escaped his lips, his hand moving to find a place on your lower back as he led you to Seonghwa's place at the pillar, moving to greet his old friend.

Your cheeks puffed out as your fingers played with the skirt of your gown, annoyance present at the situation and embarrassment rearing it's head at the thought of all this happening in front of your boys.

Wait. You shook your head as your eyes flitted between the two princes who stood in front of you. Had you just called them your boys?

Ding! A deeper blush took over your face as the realization hit you like gunfire. Small squeaks and stutters left your mouth as you attempted to come up with a reply to Yeosang's question.

"How… how am I supposed to choose a husband, a future king for Rethia, when my heart is already held in the hands of two princes?" You finally whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall at your sudden revelation.

Not only was this whole set up absurd at best, promising yourself to a man you were to have just met - now you had finally just come to terms with why this situation was truly so abhorrent to you. Royalty married with strangers everyday to secure their kingdom. But how were you supposed to do so, especially now that you had realized that the boys standing in front of you were the only princes you could see by your side.

And you couldn't choose just one of them, either. No. These were your boys. Your Princes. And you couldn't imagine your life without them by your side. As they always had been.

"How could I choose from these people, when the men I love are looking at me with such soft and familiar eyes? Eyes that feel like home?" Your words come out in a pained shush, your hands moving up to cover your face, hiding from the possible looks of scorn and disgust that could have been directed your way after such a confession.

Soft hands pulled yours from your face, leaving you to look into Seonghwa's soft gaze, his dark eyes looking timid, torn as he brought your shaking hands to his lips. You moved your gaze to Yeosang, standing behind the elder with a look that seemed just as torn, freezing as he took furtive steps in your direction.

"Princess, your words, what do they mean?" Seonghwa mumbled against your hands, eyes taking on a hopeful shine as Yeosang moved behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he hid his pleading face in your shoulder.

"Y/N," he mumbled into your shoulder, "Are you telling me I can have hope? For us?" You felt him shaking slightly against you.

"Hwa, Yeo…. You two are my princes. And I will find a way for us to be together. All of us." You said strongly, meeting Seonghwa's gaze with a firm one of your own. "That is… if you want me… or well, this." Your small hands were squeezed in Seonghwa's larger ones as you felt Yeosang let out a sigh of relief against your flesh, his arms tightening their hold around you.

Seonghwa spoke with conviction equal to yours as he fixed you with his own strong gaze. "Y/N, I believe I speak for the both of us when I say that you are our princess." His hold on your hands was released as Yeosang turned you to face him, a soft smile fixed on his face before his lips landed on your forehead, his words being felt against your skin.

"Now let us be your Princes."

Taglist: @atinywrites @hanatiny @kpophoneybunny @mingis--tiddies

Let me know what you guys thought! I hope you enjoyed!

[the-pontiac-bandit]

If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.  

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 10

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 3,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly, twice a week; will have about ?16? parts total.

---

Three long banquet tables took up the middle of the palace's dining hall. The middle table was reserved for the family and their close friends; the other tables were filled by guests of every sort. Each table was piled high with mountains of mouth-watering dishes; quail and fish; breads and pastries; olives and cheese. Gilded bowls of fresh fruit grown in the neighboring orchards and gardens were being served by dryads, and the satyrs went around with large jugs of wine, ensuring that no one's glass went unfilled.

Dynamene, now dressed in her finest golden peplos and her ceremonial coral wreath, made her way through the high-spirited crowd. After stopping to exchange bows and pleasantries with a faun she'd attended school with as a small child, she heard someone call her name. Turning around, she saw Thoe waving her over to a chair at the main table.

"Your seat's here next to me. You know, since we're seated in birth order," Thoe sighed as Dynamene took her chair. "I don't miss having to sit in order like this."

"What, don't like being reminded you're one of the youngest too?" Dynamene laughed.

"I am still nearly four centuries older than you, and don't you forget it!" Thoe protested, jabbing at her lightly.

"Well, since you're the second youngest of us thirteen here tonight, I suppose you're stuck next to me." Dynamene craned her head to look towards the front of the room. "Where are Mother and Father?"

"Ianeira said they'd be out any minute. Everyone else should be taking their seats soon..."

As if on cue, everyone still on their feet scrambled to their seats. The satyrs hurried to top up the last of the glasses before chugging down the remaining wine in the jugs for themselves. The eleven other Nereids present quickly made their way to the table, talking in excited whispers. "They're coming," Ianeira announced as she took her seat close to the head of the table.

Two figures appeared at the entrance at the front of the great hall, and the crowd's clamor dimmed to a murmur. Nereus and Doris, the esteemed father and mother of the Nereids, had made their appearance at last.

They were both tall and statuesque, though the similarities ended there. Nereus was an imposing man with a kind face, his smile largely hidden behind a vast beard that fell nearly halfway down his broad chest. He rose one hand in greeting to his guests, who called back their approval. "Greetings, my esteemed guests; my dearest of friends; and, of course, my beloved daughters. We are beyond honored to share our hospitality with you tonight."

Doris beamed at her daughters, her dark eyes crinkling warmly. Her long black hair fell in spirited waves and curls to her thighs, decorated on top with a coral hairpiece that matched theirs. "We are gathered here this evening to rejoice; thirteen of our beautiful daughters have returned home to celebrate Dynamene's coming-of-age. Please join us in filling this evening with merriment beyond heart's measure!" She rose her glass in a toast, and the rest of the hall joined her with cheer.

The opening speech given, the crowd returned to socializing. Doris and Nereus made their way to their gilded thrones at the head of the family table.

"More and more beautiful every year," Doris sighed contentedly, looking at her daughters with pride. "I am so glad to see you again, loves. It's so quiet here with you all away."

"I don't know about that; Nerites almost makes enough noise to make up for it," laughed Nereus merrily.

"That's not true!" Nerites protested from the other end of the table. He looked up from the kabob of roasted fish he was chewing. "I make more than enough noise."

The family erupted with laughter at his unexpectedly peeved retort. "I jest, Nerites," Nereus soothed. "You're the noisiest lad on the coast; I promise."

"Especially on days your father and I are trying to sleep in," Doris added smoothly, passing a plate of poached figs to her husband.

"Aye, and the days we're not trying to sleep in, too," Nereus whispered boldly, winking saucily at her. Dynamene nearly choked on her wine as her older sisters laughed at his raunchy remark. Doris threw a grape at him playfully.

"Mind your manners, or we'll be sleeping in separate suites entirely tonight, and it won't matter either way."

"Ah, just having a bit of a laugh, my love." Nereus brushed her hair back affectionately. "But your mother is right; it's not the same here with all of you girls gone. Too bad the rest couldn't come as well."

"I'm surprised Poseidon agreed to let thirteen of us come to begin with," Actaea said, swirling her wine thoughtfully.

"He does have business elsewhere, so he doesn't need all of us tending the palace as usual," Ianeira replied. "Honestly, though, he could have let all of us come and things wouldn't change at all. It's not like anyone else would be there to make a mess."

"Mm, quite right." Thoe took a dainty bite from a pear. "I'm sure he wants to keep the rest there just to prove he can. Another status symbol."

Dynamene stared at her plate. I'm sure he's not doing it just out of spite.

"Do you want something else to eat, Dynamene?" Doris asked. "I know lobster isn't your favorite. Do you want to try some quail?"

"Oh, no," Dynamene rushed, holding up her hands. "Just lost in thought. I've grown more fond of lobster lately, to be honest; especially with lime sauce."

Doris tutted fondly. "Finally getting a taste for shellfish; you really have come-of-age, haven't you?"

Ianeira watched quietly for a moment, then spoke up. "Mother, do you think I could speak to you in private later tonight?"

Doris looked up in concern. "Of course, dearest; is everything alright? Is it something we should speak about right away?"

"No, it's not urgent," Ianeira said. "Just something that's been worrying me." Her gaze lingered on Dynamene, who took notice, before quickly darting away.

Again with that strange air of secretiveness... But what does it mean? Dynamene pondered for a moment.

Oh, well. I suppose if it involves me, I'll find out sooner or later. She reached out to try a bit of quail. Lobster still really wasn't quite her favorite.

---

Some hours later, the feast had ended and the guests had dispersed. Dynamene had retired to take a soothing bath in the wide tub of the grand bath. Worn out from the long day, and stuffed to bursting with delicious food, it felt wonderful to let herself relax in the hot salt water. It wasn't long before she began to feel sleepy, and she knew it was time to head to bed.

Freshly bathed, and with her damp hair hanging loose, she put on a fresh chiton that smelled of the ocean outside. She felt so much more relaxed since they'd arrived at home. She left the bathroom and wandered down the dimly lit halls to her childhood bedroom. The gentle orange glow of the torches set a warm, soft light everywhere it touched. Her bare feet weren't cold against the ground here, unlike with the cold marble at Poseidon's palace. It would be nice to sleep in her old bed again tonight.

She was almost to her room when she heard quiet voices coming from Ianeira's room. She paused, remembering Ianeira's request to their mother. Surely she was hearing them talk about whatever it was that troubled Ianeira.

She hesitated outside the door. It wasn't right for her to eavesdrop, but when she remembered that had persisted since her sisters' meeting with Poseidon, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. Brushing her hair away from her ear, she leaned in to listen.

"...worried about her, lately. It wouldn't be a concern if you hadn't sent us to a place like that in the first place. I just don't understand. Why?"

Ianeira's tone was rather vulnerable, now that she was speaking in private with her mother. It took Dynamene by surprise; for so long, Ianeira had been the one guiding the rest of them, and now here she was herself seeking counsel with her mother.

"We sent you to Poseidon's palace to broaden your prospects," Doris answered firmly. "To give you opportunities you could never have here. Your father and I are rather ancient by the rest of the pantheon's standards, and our influence has already peaked long ago. It was our hope that, by sending you to serve Poseidon, that you might meet others, gain an education, and make your own way in the world."

"The tutors were top-class," Ianeira admitted. "But Poseidon himself is a geyser, just waiting to blow. Don't you remember what he did to Adamas? Ripped him in half without a second thought. We were there, serving him, when that happened, remember? We saw the body, Mother. I can still hear the screams some nights..."

"I think about it more than I ought to," Doris whispered. "And I am sorry that you had to witness it. It was an unspeakable act. But I don't believe for one second that he would ever harm any of you."

"It matters not what you believe! I don't want to risk that happening to Dynamene! If he was capable of doing that to his own brother on a whim, what would he do to her?" Ianeira cried.

Doris sighed. "Your father and I have always had faith that Poseidon would never lay a hand on any of you. All fifty of you are clever and resourceful; we know you would never tempt fate with him. And he would never tempt fate with you."

Ianeira laughed humorlessly. "Tempt fate? Oh, Mother, if only you knew."

"I don't understand, Ianeira. Why are you afraid for Dynamene? What do you fear Poseidon is going to do?"

"It's more about what Dynamene might do at the moment, Mother," Ianeira said, her voice defeated. "You see... Dynamene is infatuated with Poseidon."

 One could have heard a pin drop. Dynamene clapped her hand over her mouth, hiding her gasp of shock. How long had they known about her feelings for Poseidon?

"...She has always been a passionate girl," Doris murmured. "Always a bit of a romantic. But, I suppose, this really isn't so surprising of a development. Of the fifty of you, one of you was bound to become enamored with him."

"I'm worried for her, Mother," Ianeira whispered. "She's still so young; she's still a child in so many ways. I don't know what to do."

"Dynamene is at that strange stage where she has the desires of a woman, but the reasoning of a child. She is inexperienced. It will just take time; she will grow and learn."

"But that's what I'm worried about, Mother!" Ianeira pleaded. "She's already so infatuated with him, and this is Poseidon! If, in time, she really does fall in love with him, and he lays claim to her - what can we do to protect her from him? She'll become his consort, and then..."

"Dynamene is still too young to truly know romantic love. I assure you, dearest, what Dynamene feels right now is just a passing fancy. Poseidon is a powerful god, and he is handsome; I would be more surprised if she did not develop an attraction to him. But Poseidon is infamously cold and stoic. Nothing will come of it, you have my word."

That stung. Dynamene winced, her face flushing with humiliation. It was uncomfortably jarring to hear her family speak candidly about her innermost feelings this way.

"I don't want to risk that! Dynamene is around him all the time, as we all are, serving him at the palace. Please, just request that Dynamene remain home longer, even if only for a year. If it's truly a mere crush, then her feelings for him should fizzle out by then."

What? The gears in Dynamene's mind began to turn rapidly. Ianeira was asking Doris to keep her here even longer...

Almost as if the whole point of the trip had been to get her away from Poseidon.

Dynamene swallowed hard, feeling a surge of angry betrayal wash over her. Her clenched fists had begun to shake. She resisted the urge to barge in; they were still speaking, and she wanted to listen until the end.

Doris was quiet. "I will consider it. But the thirteen of you have only just got here today; it could very well be the case that, by the time the month is up, Dynamene's attention will be on someone else."

Dynamene heard Ianeira exhale. "Thank you, Mother. I just... I just want her to be safe."

"I understand, my child," Doris comforted her. "But have faith; everything will turn out just fine."

Dynamene couldn't stand to listen to anymore. She ran to her room and slammed the door shut, angry tears forming in her eyes.

They had known. They had known this entire time how she felt. And now, instead of supporting her, or even just hearing her out about her feelings, they were trying to keep the two of them apart. Her sisters, the people she trusted most in the whole world, had betrayed her trust.

Any joy she'd felt from their homecoming dispersed within her chest, replaced by the hot, prickling sensation of rage. How could they do this? She wasn't only angry at them; she was angry at herself, too. How could I have been so blind?  She asked herself angrily. Of course they'd never accept my feelings for Poseidon. If one thing's clear now, it's that they hate him. They've never spoken to him the way I have. They've no idea.

I never wanted to stay here for a month from the start, let alone a year. By the time we go back to the palace, the council of the gods will have taken place, and Hera will have done her best to force someone else upon Poseidon. I won't let that happen. I'll do whatever it takes to go back before then.

A gentle rap on her shut door broke her out of her angry reverie. She didn't bother to check who it was before shouting, "Go away!"

But of course, the door opened anyway, revealing the last person she wanted to see: Ianeira.

"Leave me alone," Dynamene snapped at her.

Ianeira stared at her in shock. "What's gotten into you? I just came to check on you. Is something the matter?"

Perhaps now wasn't the right time to break out into a fury. Dynamene unclenched her jaw and took a breath. "No, I'm sorry for snapping. I just have a headache."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ianeira said, coming to sit next to her. She reached out to stroke her sister's hair, but Dynamene pulled away.

"Well, I'll keep things brief then," Ianeira started over. "We had a good time today, didn't we?"

"Yes," Dynamene muttered as she looked away. It was going great until now.

"I know how refreshing it is to be here at home. It's where we belong, really, although with how much time we've spent at Poseidon's palace, it can be hard to remember."

Dynamene was silent, knowing where her sister's words were leading to and loathing it. Ianeira carefully ventured onwards. "So... How would you like to take the year off and stay here, at home?"

Dynamene looked at Ianeira with loathing in her eyes. "So you can keep me away from Poseidon a little longer?"

Ianeira's mouth fell open, but no words came out.

Dynamene jumped to her feet, unable to rein in her rage any longer. "You can't even deny it, can you?! That this whole trip was a ruse to get me away from him! Is that the real reason why you left me out of the audience?"

"Why... How on earth could you possibly know that?" Ianeira shot back, standing up.

"I have a predisposition to eavesdropping, I guess," Dynamene clenched her fists. "I heard what you were saying to Mother. How dare you decide what's best for me like that?! You haven't even asked me about any of it!"

"About what? Your infatuation with a madman?!" Ianeira yelled back. Her eyes were snapping with long-repressed frustration and anger, and Dynamene couldn't help but shirk back. "You think I haven't lost sleep, worrying about this? And now you want me to compromise with you over it?!"

"How dare you say that!" Angry tears threatened to overflow from Dynamene's eyes. "I don't need you deciding what's right for me! I've already made up my mind; I want to stay with him! I want to be with him!"

"Be with him?! Are you insane, Dynamene?!" Ianeira threw her arms up in disbelief. "You want to be with the man who tore his own brother apart without a second glance? Is that the same fate you want, once he decides you too don't meet his standards?!"

"He would never do that to me!" Dynamene cried, clutching her bracelet. "He wouldn't! Even when he caught me spying, he-"

"He what?" Ianeira's voice went deadly quiet. "You did what?"

"I..." Dynamene knew she had made a mistake, and she looked down.

"You spied on him? Why?! Are you even thinking?! If Mother and Father knew-"

"I had to know what he was talking about with Hera! I don't want him to be with anyone else; I love him! I love him!" Dynamene's voice cut off as she began to sob with abandon. "Please, don't tell them! They'll never let me-"

"How could you say you love him?! He has no heart! He cares for no one, not even us!" Ianeira hurled. Her hair was steaming with rage. "You're not even thinking, taking risks like that! There's no way you're returning to that palace! You're still a child; Poseidon will ruin you! I won't let him do that to you; not you, or any of my sisters!" Her shouts echoed in the small room.

"You can't stop me!" Something within Dynamene had snapped. "I'm not a child anymore, and you don't control me!" She threw open the windows and let the night wind pour in, billowing about her. The black seawater swirled many feet below.

"Wait, Dynamene, don't!" Ianeira cried out, reaching for her.

Dynamene dove headfirst out the window without a second glance. She plunged into the cold ocean water below, the thin fabric of her chiton swirling about her.

I won't sit by and let others decide my life for me! They could never know how I feel. They won't even try to understand. Tears drifted from her eyes, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake. That's just fine. I'll take things into my own hands. I'll find a way; I will.

Dynamene let her body disperse into the water, swimming away as fast as she could into the dark waters of the night.

---

Author’s Notes: This part has taken me the longest thus far now. I gave myself time to recharge before finishing it because I wanted the emotions to be strong. Can't do that if I'm suffering writer fatigue. I watched part of The Little Mermaid and felt ready to continue. Here we are!

Can you blame Dynamene, Ianeira? Have you LOOKED at Poseidon, I mean REALLY LOOKED? Man's got the looks of an angel. Too bad his personality doesn't match.

The parts now have names (on ao3)! We're at part 10 now; I thought names might help tell them apart. No spoilers in them, but descriptive enough that people who have already read them will hopefully be able to tell which is which.

Nereid birth order:

Ianeira - 1

Actaea - 6

Callianassa - 23

Eione - 27

Thoe - 41

Dynamene - 50