#juliet regal

[vintage-tigre]

[saintobio]

as you like it (sequel to romeo ♱ juliet)

↳ gojo satoru/reader

bound by the dictates of the prophecy, the emperor contemplates whether retaining his wife or severing ties with her may be the sole path to fulfill his ambitions. yet, what he may fail to discern, is that the plague in his reign lies beyond what meets the eye

♱ genre. tragedy, revenge, period piece, renaissance au

♱ tags. 26k wc, extremely ooc, tyranny, emperor!gojo, empress!reader, (they are both insane!), unrequited love, religion (especially catholicism), blasphemy, mentions of infidelity, violence, war, rebellion, misogyny, impregnation, smut, disease, gore, death, arson

♱ notes. heavily inspired by anne boleyn's real-life story, and manhwas sister, i am the queen in this life and ten ways to get dumped by a tyrant, as well as shakespeare’s king henry V. direct quotes also derived from the movie the king. finally, the modern english version is here, and it is long overdue T-T

♱ FIRST TIMELINE OF LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS ♱

EARLY MODERN ENGLISH -> MODERN ENGLISH VERSION

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

SATORU, Emperor of Caelum. YOU, of the same order. SUGURU, knight commander of the Imperial Order of Knights. TOJI, Emperor of Astheryn. NAOYA, a duke, cousin to Toji. GENEVA, nurse to the empress. MAXIMILIAN, advisor to the Caelan Emperor. NANAMI, a nobleman.  The Pope. FRIAR MYCHAL, a Franciscan. A maid.  A physician. The Oracle.  Citizens of Astheryn and Caelum; kinsfolk of both empires; the Imperial Court, Nobles, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants

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PROLOGUE 

In fair Caelum, an emperor reigns,  A throne usurped through blood and disdain.  Beside him, an Empress fair did stand, Her love unmet, her heart unmanned. No heir has graced their union still,  Her womb remains a barren field,  His anger thus come veiled in scorn,  To seek another, and secure his throne. In this tale of sorrow, rage, and might,  Where empires clash and fates alight, We delve into a world both dark and bright,  Where love and power wage their ceaseless fight.

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THE LATE 15TH CENTURY

ACT I 

Only slightly did you loosen up as the sequence of your steps were taken in slow but measured strides. Each footfall had a rhythm that was neither lacking in confidence nor hesitance, with your heels clicking on the marble floors and the sound of it echoing along the spacious hallway as if to remind every person within the vicinity that the Empress was arriving. You held your breath much to the tightness of your corset and tried to keep your emotions intact, taking a halt from walking knowing that your ladies-in-waiting were tailing you closely behind.

Two valiant knights stood by his door, offering a curtsy to their Empress the minute you had crossed their eyes. A knock on the door followed. Then, soon enough, you were granted a step forward inside your husband’s study. 

There he was, ensconced behind his desk amid copious piles of paperwork, his attention undivided by the woman who graced his study with her presence. His locks, reminiscent of Arctic snow, were meticulously arranged, accentuated by the resplendent black doublet he donned, and adorned with intricate silver patterns upon the brocade cloth. His eyes, as blue as the sky and oceans alike, declined to meet the gaze of his own wife. 

“What is your purpose?” he uttered.

Meanwhile, you made a swift curtsy and motioned for the attendants and knights to depart away, leaving the two of you alone. “I would like to have a word with you, Your Majesty.”

His countenance appeared to congeal as he fixed his gaze upon you for several discomfiting moments. “Of what matter?”

“Regarding the New Year’s banquet, my dear husband. It is due in a fortnight, and preparations must be set into motion.” You stood squarely before him, hands entwined before you. A regal presence. A queenly figure, fashioned precisely to his desires. Such was the image the empire had embraced since your ascension to the throne. Before him stood the epitome of grace suited to that role. “What do you say our theme should be?” 

He closed the ledger he had been inscribing on, scrutinizing your features intently. “As you know, I dislike such events, but this banquet is an avoidable obligation.” His gaze shifted towards your gown that was meticulously crafted to complement your form. It was adorned with the same elaborate embroidery as his own attire, and accented by a sizable silver cross adorning your neck like the good Christian you were. “The people are starting to notice how grand our affairs are becoming; therefore, I prefer to avoid any unnecessary extravagance that might cause a stir. Let it be lavish enough to uphold our standing, yet not overly flamboyant,” he paused, “As for the theme, black and silver will be fitting to complement our regalia.”

The Caelum regalia, once bedecked in innocent hues of white and blue, underwent a somber transformation to black and silver upon his ascension to the throne. Behind this alteration lay a tragic tale. Satoru, the man whom you addressed as husband, had first borne the title of Crown Prince before ascending to the imperial seat. His younger sister, the infamous maiden who met her demise alongside her lover, was bound to an ill-fated romance that purportedly quelled an age-old enmity between two ancestral foes.

The forbidden romance between a scion of a Zen'in and a scioness of a Gojou, both of princely lineage, ignited strife between the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. With half a century of animosity between these bloodlines, a lust for supremacy, and an unyielding clash between nations, the discord erupted into a civil strife, ceasing solely with the ratification of a peace accord by the sovereigns of both empires.

Yet before all these tumultuous events unfolded, Satoru’s ascent to the highest throne owed much to you. Though you were not his intended betrothed, you were a lady deeply enamored with the prince; with whom he divulged myriad fervent nights with. As the daughter of a duke whose lineage boasted mastery in the craft of forging fine swords and weaponry, and so well-versed in the art of warfare, he saw you fit to stand as his empress, prepared to reciprocate your erstwhile unrequited love through means of marriage. However, this accord came at the cost of you aiding him in his quest to unseat both his father and mother from their thrones. He loathed his parents just as strongly as he did Astheryn. The rulers preceding him were despotic tyrants, showing scant regard for kinship ties, and they exhibited no sorrow for the passing of the princess, which was a loss deeply felt by Satoru.

Satoru carried ambitions of ascending to the august throne of Caelum from a tender age, and he was unwilling to await the natural demise of his father for ascension and instead, do it by means of force. He was prepared to imbue his hands with his own kindred’s blood to sit at the highest throne, yet such a feat was no trifling matter. The civil unrest presented the opportune moment to execute his plans, spurred on all the more by his sister’s untimely demise. With your military affiliations and strategic acumen, you aided him in orchestrating a coup d’état against his own kin. Ending it all with him, severing his father’s head with a sword, and you, killing his mother with poison. His other oppositions followed, and those who did not support his cause were offered a swift journey to hell through mass execution. Throughout these macabre events, you stood steadfast by his side, currying favor with the surviving nobility to fortify his position as emperor. Identifying traitors, you presented them for his judgment. In due course, you became his most trusted confidante, the sole woman deemed worthy to stand beside him on the day of his coronation, heralding the dawn of a new era for the empire. Thus, a new nation, a new sovereignty, and a new regalia were born.

“As you wish, my liege.” With careful steps, you navigated his study, casting an appraising gaze upon the books lining his shelves before pausing behind him. He should perceive that the banquet wasn’t the only thing on your mind that day. “Please, do not trouble yourself with all this paperwork.” Your lips brushed his ear. “Instead, should I anticipate your presence in my bedchamber tonight?”

He tensed, drawing a deep breath to temper his emotions. You always seemed to know how to push his buttons—in good and bad ways. You played him like a fiddle as always. Indeed, he was well aware that your desires surpassed the scope of mere banquet arrangements. “Very well.”

The distant gaze he cast upon you pierced deeply. Eight long years of matrimony, and only now did he begin to exhibit such aloofness. Only now did such estrangement manifest. What sudden shift had befallen this marriage? You were not privy to the answer, yet you strived to deny it. Nonetheless, for the sake of your peace of mind, did you venture forth with your inquiry. “My liege, I dare to believe that you do not hold a grudge against me.” Your eyes remained fixed upon his saintly face. “Do I speak true? For my failure to conceive during our last encounter—”

“It is futile to hold a grudge over matters beyond our control.” Displeasure thinned his lips. “What gain would I have in chastising you simply because you are barren?”

Pained by his words, you stepped away, quietly but firmly asserting, “...I am not barren.”

“You have not conceived after six years, that qualifies as being barren to me.” He flipped back to the page he was perusing, resuming his writing.

Any trace of happiness that once adorned your mien now dissipated, and was replaced by the shadows of his cutting words. “Then, what plan shall you devise if I fail to bear your offspring?”

Satoru halted in his writing, his quill suspended in the air. He closed his eyes as he spoke, “If you do not conceive in the foreseeable future, I have no choice but to divorce you. No matter the cost.”

Your eyes widened at his decision, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. His words seemed rehearsed, so well-thought of, as though he had expected this day to come and heretofore looked forward to informing you of this very plan. You failed to catch his reasoning, but succeeded at bearing the pain it had burdened you. What had driven him to this conclusion? Certainly, a mere heir would not lead him to this ultimatum. 

“Are you suggesting a concubine, then?” Firm and resolute in your stance was how you received his proposal. 

The emperor averted his gaze, allowing silence to stand as your response for several minutes until he finally articulated a considerate reply. “My heir cannot be born a bastard, and so concubines would only complicate matters. I have no plans in that department.” You sensed the direction of his thoughts, and you dreaded his continuation. “Instead, I implore you to abdicate your throne, and I shall marry another lady, whether of royal or imperial lineage, to bear the heir of this empire. It is the only fitting course of action, one which may necessitate a divorce.”

“Step down from my throne?” Your voice quavered, laced with disbelief and anguish. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Would you cast me aside, discard me like a worn-out garment in your ill-tempered state, all for the sake of an heir? After everything I have done for you.” Your words echoed in the chamber, each syllable heavy with the betrayal you felt.

Your heart, once brimming with devotion, now lay shattered at your feet. All your life, you have loved him. All your happiness and tears, you have devoted to him. You had stood by his side through every trial, every conquest, only to be deemed unworthy of bearing his legacy. The sting of rejection seared your soul, igniting a fierce resolve within your wounded spirit. Yet nothing was his response. No words of comfort did he return for your wifely agony. 

With a voice trembling through a mixture of sorrow and defiance, you met his gaze. “Fair enough,” you whispered, your tone laden with a sorrowful resignation. “If it is a concubine you seek, then so be it. But a divorce, I will not accept. And know this, my lord,” you declared, your voice rising with newfound strength, “I am the Empress. The one and only. There is none within this empire comparable to me, for a worthless, lowly concubine shall not depose this Empress Y/N of Caleum you would so readily compromise."

And in that solemn proclamation, you turned away, your stolid mien masking the shattered pieces of your fractured heart. 

His countenance remained stoic as he observed your departure, sighing inwardly as you exited his study. Although no longer offering a response, he found himself unable to deny the truth of your words. Nor the power in which you presented them. Your presence lingered in his thoughts, holding sway over him in a manner he could not fathom. 

As expected, you were epitome of a powerful empress just like what his mother once was and there ought to be a lot more convincing for you to step down from your post. 

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ACT II

“If the oracle speaks the truth, then I fear, my lord, that this empire is destined for downfall.”

It was late in the night, though the castle still brimmed with light from the torches adorning the halls. Most servants had retired to bed by this hour, barring the guards stationed at key areas of the castle. Meanwhile, the emperor remained awake, engaged in discussions concerning the fate of his sovereign. A predestined fate that could only be avoided should he make the effort to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy. 

Standing discreetly before him was Lord Maximillian, his advisor—a man who had witnessed his growth from juvenile years to the present moment. He had come to offer the emperor the much-needed counsel regarding the pressing matter at hand.

“Max, what do you say? Tell me, do you think I am incapable?” The man of higher power questioned. “I have discussed the divorce with the Empress. I have outlined my plan in case she fails to bear my heir, and presented it in a way that seems fair to her. Yet, she reacts with such intensity. And she loves so fiercely. Oh, women. Such troublesome, defiant women are the issue! She’s a shrew—that is what she is. For many years, I have given her the benefit of the doubt. Her ambitions outweigh her sense. I am at a loss on how to proceed with her any further. The prophecy demands that I have an heir.”

The old man returned him a soulless look. “If you interpret the matter differently than intended, then may I suggest that Your Majesty consider disposing of her.”

“Dispose?” he queried, as though he had misheard. “Her? My wife? You suggest it best to dispose of her?”

“Yes, I believe it is. In the same manner as your father and mother,” Maximillian asserted, drawing a deep breath. “Please, do not misunderstand my intentions as treason. My loyalty rests with you, my liege. I stand beside you. I desire nothing but the best for you, for this empire has not seen better days than under your rule.”

Silence enveloped the air. Satoru took a moment to gaze at his elongating shadow, gradually shaping itself as he moved farther from the candlelight. In the darkness, his shadow morphed into a menacing silhouette, a specter lurking in the darkness was what had become of him. To become a tyrant was never his intention nor the promise he made to his departed sister, who yearned nothing but for Satoru to embody fairness and strength in rulership. And to be an emperor for the people. She had strived for peace among nations, yet here her brother stood, mirroring the oppressive parental figures he had overthrown. What allure did power hold over him? What such force could sway him now to forsake the very individual who had displayed unwavering marital devotion towards him?

“Have you been in communication with the King of Ellesmere?” inquired the Emperor. “Is it not true that his daughter, the princess, was to marry the late Prince of Astheryn? That prince was the son of that villain. That tyrant. Emperor Toji of Astheryn, my foremost enemy. What has become of that princess, do you know?”

Maximillian stared at him intently. “She is twenty-eight years old and past her marriageable age, yet Princess Katarina remains unwed. Is it her hand that Your Majesty seeks?”

“I say this as the Emperor: it is solely her status that renders her the only eligible woman to be my wife and empress of this empire." His decision was laden with hesitation yet compelled by necessity. “However, for the moment, she cannot be seated until Y/N has been removed from her position. My decision will depend on whether my wife can produce my heir soon. If not, I shall dispose of her.”

His advisor sent him a look of approval. “'Tis a decision that can only emanate from you, my lord. May God be with you.” 

“If that is all, then you can leave.” The emperor paused near the western part of the castle, not far from the corridors leading to his wife's bedchamber. “I ask you to be my messenger tomorrow. Write to the King of Ellesmere, briefly and clearly. Before you falsely honor a new empress, know that the long hours of my night are to be spent with the woman currently occupying the throne.”

Eventually, Satoru reached your chambers and noticed that a few candles had been lit, their warm light illuminating the room softly. In the solitude in which you found yourself, seated by the bed and bathed in moonlight, silent in such serenity he hoped not to disturb. The fabric of your nightgown, thin and delicate, revealed the contours of your womanly figure beneath. He, too, was clad in a thin robe that left little to the imagination. 

As you turned to face him, you caught sight of the faint scars and marks from countless battles etched across his body, though his expression remained mostly neutral as it always had and you were unbeknownst to the profanity he had spoken of you a few minutes hence. Now, his electric blue eyes looked at you with careful scrutiny, pondering whether this sensual encounter would all be in vain or if you truly intended to fulfill your role and bear an heir this time.

“What hour is it?” You spoke softly, approaching him with a sorrowful glint in your eyes. “I have waited.”

“Apologies. Urgent matters demanded my attention.” Satoru could see the sadness in your eyes, but he tried his best to ignore it. You are barren, and there is little he can do to change that. He should begin his newfound task to detach from you. You brought him no good. You offered him no better fate. You were no longer instrumental for him to attain his long-standing ambition. Nevertheless, with your genuinely loving eyes he found himself conflicted, and that showed in his facial expressions. His brow knit, and he parted his lips as if to speak before hesitating and closing them again. You sensed his inclination to make you feel miserable, to render you desolate, yet he could not muster the resolve to articulate such words. Thus, he remained silent.

While you, you stood perfectly still. Like a porcelain doll displayed as a mere decoration. You wanted nothing but to give him his manly satisfaction that night, hoping that your marriage could still work and that he would not need the betrothal of another lady to give him an heir. With delicate hands, you let the nightgown slip away, falling beneath your feet as the cold air caressed your naked form. This body. All of it belonged to him. “My lord.” You kept your eyes on him. And he, on your shapely bosom. “Please have me as you desire.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened as he stared at you, his voice taking a commanding tone to match his expression. “Turn around.”

You did as ordered. As obediently, as submissively. Like a servant serving her master. Yet, beneath this guise of obedience lay a deeper yearning—to vie for his love once more, and to affirm, if only for one last time, that his words this morning were but a fleeting outburst of heightened emotions.

“I have to admit you are quite beautiful,” whispered him. It is a shame that you are so useless in one aspect.

He walked behind you, enfolding you in his muscular arm, ensnaring you in his robust grasp as his fingers traced a path down your back. You could feel the contours of his toned abs pressed against your back, while he explored the dips and curves of your body with his touch, squeezing the soft mounds on your chest. He then leaned his forehead against your neck, trailing tender kisses along your spine, each one a testament to the intimacy shared between you. 

The passionate night continued with the both of you taking turns in granting each other pleasure. The kisses around your neck, his tongue in between your folds, your hand wrapped around his well-endowed member. And before you know it, he was entering you from behind, penetrating the depths of your cavern in pursuit of reaching his high. His grasp on your hips tightened with each thrust, rendering your knees weak as you remained on all fours.

Your intimate session lasted for a while, as he was not satisfied enough at having only one release for the night. He jostled you from the back, to the side, and to the front. All of which left you with the warmth of his seed seeping out of your entrance, and subsequently down your thighs. 

If only he did not let his mind speak, you could have deluded yourself that this night was his declaration of utmost love for you. 

“You know that I will leave if you do not provide me with an heir soon, do you not?” Satoru did not sleep as he looked at you, his thoughts running rampant as he questioned whether or not he was being too cruel. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a second of your tears, tears that you so rightfully held back, and he was at a loss of words for once. He knew that he needed to stay firm on his decision, but seeing you on the verge of breaking down... it struck guilt in him. Satoru’s face softened, his tone becoming more calm and less forceful. Subconsciously did he do his best to comfort you. “I am not pleased that it has come to this. My words may be harsh at times, but you understand that I must fulfill my duties as emperor, do you not?” 

You could not answer immediately and tried to bear the sting it brought to your heart. “How is it that you suddenly find it easy to cast me aside? Is there another lady on your mind?”

“That is not the case.” His guilt was knocking at the door, but he tried to ignore it. “This empire needs an heir, and you have failed me.”

“Perhaps blame the lack of children on yourself.” You bit back as your chest rose and fell from heavy breaths. “So seldom does my own husband grace my bed, as though I am unwed. Blame it, then, on the distance you have imposed upon us! A child cannot be born if we are not intimate.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your words. “Are you suggesting we engage in intimate relations every minute and every second of the day?” A scoff escaped his lips. “I have given you eight years.” 

“And yet, for eight years, you have not learned to love me.”

Your gaze remained fixed, each word hanging heavily in the air like a stormy cloud, with the weight of your shared history and unresolved emotions looming between the two of you in a thunderous confrontation. It was as though the very atmosphere crackled with tension, the silence pregnant with unspoken truths and unfulfilled desires. What was his true and most honest intent in forsaking you? 

Satoru sat by the edge, ultimately deciding to leave you with yet another night devoid of slumber, alone upon your chamber. “Love? That very love is what killed my sister.” 

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ACT III

A fair distance from the Gate of Saint Pellegrino, a homeless woman cradled a baby in her arms. Her other children darted about Saint Peter’s Square while she sang a hauntingly familiar lullaby to her infant—a melody too melancholic for a child, yet so fitting for the occasion. You recognized it as the song created by the Caelan citizens after the war ended. Her dulcet voice would rival the angels of the sky, and amidst the throng of people attempting to breach the ranks of the knights surrounding the Emperor and Empress, she stayed firm in her spot, her haunting hymn weaving through the atmosphere, while her storm-grey eyes bore into you with an eerie intensity to captivate you in a trance. 

A rose will bloom, it then will fade

So does a youth, so does a fairest maid

Beneath the stars, they found their place,

In secret trysts, love's tender grace.

But lo, the fates their love did fray,

In bitter strife, they slipped away.

So hush, dear ones, and hear this lay,

Of love that wilted, night and day.

In whispered sighs, they bid goodbye,

Two souls in love, 'neath starry sky.

A decade had passed since the most scandalous demise of the Astheryn prince and the Caelum princess had occurred, where both lovers were discovered lifeless within the somber halls of the Sistine Chapel. Contrary to the common folk’s belief, they were not wed, nor did they meet their tragic end at Saint Peter’s, indeed, as their bodies were in fact found at the nearby Sistine Chapel. The Catholic church acknowledged this romantic tragedy as a conclusion to the long-standing feud between two noble empires, henceforth commemorating the young couple’s demise each passing year with a holy mass.

This year rendered particular significance as it marked the solemn tenth anniversary of their untimely departure. Perhaps, it may be the reason why your husband has been on edge as of late. Every year, his sister’s demise served as a brutal reminiscence for him—a grim reminder of his perished sister and the origin of his tyrannical reign. He bore witness to his parents’ handling of the conflict with Astheryn ten years ago, whereupon they callously demanded the common folk spill their blood in service to the imperial dynasty, igniting civil unrest in its wake. Such ruthless and cowardly deeds left an indelible mark upon him and brought him to the ultimatum of becoming a usurper. You vividly recalled the night he sought solace at your family’s estate, clad in battered armor from countless battles waged. That evening, he wept in your arms, confessing the death of his sister and his burning desire to exact vengeance upon those responsible for his loss. In exchange for marriage, you devised a scheme to orchestrate the coup that would once and for all elevate him to the imperial throne.

Despite the facade of peace ushered in by the treaty between him and the Astheryn Emperor, the truth remained stark: both empires were merely feigning reconciliation. They were only nominally “at peace”. A cold war, by all accounts, defined their true relationship.

The tension could be felt inside the basilica even from the moment you and your husband arrived in The Venera, a microstate on the borders of Astheryn and Caelum, in front of the men of both empires, as well as the members of the Holy Catholic Church. For many years, this sacred state remained a recognized territory of Caelum, despite its official designation as an independent ecclesiastical entity. The Gojou family were openly pious and deeply devout Catholics, while the Astherean citizens were predominantly Protestants. Not all members of the Zen’in clan practiced their empire’s predominant religion, and some suggested that Emperor Toji himself might be an atheist, albeit discreetly so. Rumors also circulated that the mother of the late Prince Megumi was herself a Catholic, which led to intense criticism regarding her marriage to a lineal heir of the imperial family. 

Nevertheless, this stark religious divide lay at the heart of the perennial animosity between the two nations. 

“Announcing Their Imperial Majesties, Emperor Satoru and Empress Y/N, the guiding stars of our empire, luminaries in the twilight of sovereignty.”

As you walked alongside Satoru, you noticed his usual bright blue eyes turning into a darker hue. His gaze fixated upon the altar, his countenance void of emotion, as you proceeded down the aisle by his side. Since that night, silence has permeated your interactions. And you still had no desire to engage him, especially if it meant enduring relentless pressure regarding an heir or the prospect of divorce. 

Yet there, you carried yourself with an air of quiet strength and dignity—a gown of the deepest black with long sleeves ending in delicate cuffs, a silver cross hung by your chest with a gemstone made from blood red corundum, and a flowing black veil crafted from the finest lace, enveloping your head and cascading gently down your back, partially obscuring your features. The veil added an air of mystery and solemnity in your poise. 

As for him, the Emperor was adorned in a doublet and hose ensemble, embellished with intricate brocade and tailored to fit his form exquisitely to accentuate his stature and regal bearing. Draped over his shoulders was a lavish cape of rich, dark velvet lined with ermine fur and fastened at the neck with a jeweled clasp bearing the insignia of his empire. Each fold billowed around him as he moved, creating a striking silhouette that commanded attention and respect.

No wonder the citizens of this empire were noticing your extravagance. And despised you for it. 

Throughout the mass, Satoru remained stoic, seated alongside you at the forefront of the church, his demeanor suggesting that this day of remembrance was a torment to his very soul. Still, he listened, but you doubted he agreed while Pope Alexandre VI delivered a sermon on the importance of unity and peace among nations, condemning the advocates of warfare and citing the tragic fate of the late prince and princess as a poignant illustration of how the animosity between two empires exacts a toll through sacrifice. Prayers were also offered for the souls of the civilians and soldiers who perished during the war, drawing inspiration from the teachings of the Bible as the mass adhered to the customary order of the Liturgy of the Word and of the Eucharist.

“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” you recited under your breath, genuflecting before the altar and offering prayers for the soul of your husband’s younger sister, beseeching that she find peace alongside her beloved under the guidance of the Holy Father. And as the mass drew to a close, you remained on your knees in prayer, the sound of approaching footsteps signaling the unwelcome arrival of an unexpected visitor—a presence that elicited a defensive reaction from your husband.

“Your Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Caelum.” It was none other than Duke Naoya of Astheryn, whose sarcastic presence seemed to have acted as a representative of their highest ruler. Emperor Toji’s absence to this occasion already constituted an affront to Satoru, and the pompous mien exhibited by the duke only intensified the indignation. A decade had passed since the death of Prince Megumi, and the prideful Astheryn Emperor still refrained from setting foot on Caelum’s soil to acknowledge the purported ‘peace’ between the empires. Even more, the subtle curve on Duke Naoya’s lips added an infantile insult to the already festering wound. “Accept my belated greetings. It took me but a moment to recognize you—rumors describe the Calean Emperor’s presence as imposing, yet reality often differs from reputation.”

You rose from the ground, poised to defend Satoru, but he raised a hand to forestall your intervention, maintaining his unruffled composure as he addressed the noble man’s jest. “Ah, well the Duke's wit is sharp as ever,” Satoru replied, his tone laced with equal sarcasm and earning the laugh of the surrounding nobles. “It appears that overseeing a mere duchy affords the Duke ample free time, unlike the responsibilities that come with ruling an empire, which he so covets.”

“Oh, certainly!” Duke Naoya spoke in Calean with a heavy accent, still unfazed as his eyes slowly drifted to you. “They pale in comparison to the burdens of ruling an empire. Yet, surely, it is not as burdensome without an heir.” His implication hung in the air, a pointed insinuation veiled in the guise of courtly banter.

Before the exchange could escalate into a diplomatic strain, Friar Mychal took it upon himself to intervene, exhaling a laugh of unease and positioning himself between the Emperor and the Duke. “Very well!” he exclaimed. “I have received word that those attending the mass will offer tributes for the basilica in remembrance of the tenth year since the passing of the Prince and the Princess. As a matter of fact, there are already numerous flowers adorning their statue that His Majesty Satoru has donated to the museum.”

The museum was just a short walk from the chapel and the space itself was adorned with ornate ceilings, frescoes, and architectural details that added to the grandeur of the surroundings. An array of sculptures lined the hall; of cherubs, saints, warriors, and mythological figures. One of the newer sculptures were of the Prince and the Princess, portraying young lovers in a tender embrace with the princely lad staring at his lady’s face. The sculpture was from a renowned Calean artist which Satoru himself hired out of the pure intention of donating it to the Veneran Museum. The nobles, members of the imperial court, and members of the church were all in awe after the sculpture was revealed to the attendees as such meticulous carvings and lifelike detail could only be done by Giancarlo di Firenze. 

“A remarkable piece, indeed!”

“The detail is breathtaking!”

“To capture such emotion in stone… ‘tis as if they are whispering their love story to us.”

Your husband could not have been prouder. Alongside him, other nobles also contributed their offerings. Some notable ones included stained glass art, precious jewels, a pair of lovebirds, and… a particularly intriguing tapestry gifted by the Astheryn Empire.

The tapestry depicts the Astherean prince and the Calean princess lying together in death with the symbolic addition of a bloodied dagger laid atop the princess’ chest, representing the same weapon that Prince Megumi had used to end his life. The imagery not only insinuated that Satoru’s sister was responsible for the prince’s demise, but also served as an insult to the prevailing belief in her innocence surrounding her own tragic death.

“This…” Your mouth fell agape. You need not look into your husband’s visage to perceive his growing ire. “This is preposterous!” 

The joy was evident in Duke Naoya’s eyes, yet he endeavored to feign ignorance. “Ah, before I forget, my noble cousin, the Emperor of the Astheryn Empire, sent an accompanying message addressed to His Majesty Satoru.” 

In the threads of time, woven with the fabric of our shared tragedy, lies the essence of our 'peace'. As we gather to honor the memory of what once was, I send forth this tapestry, whereupon love and folly intertwine in an eternal dance. May it serve as a testament to the fragility of alliances forged in blood and ink, where shadows of deceit cloak the truth we dare not confront. While you sit upon your borrowed throne, may you find solace in the echoes of your usurped legacy. 

With insincere regards, 

Emperor Toji II of Astheryn

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT IV

“My liege, this is unacceptable! Astheryn is taunting us.” 

An urgent assembly convened at the council chamber, where courtiers gathered to seek counsel from the emperor who was now seated in a position of humiliation following Astheryn’s brazen act of insult. You joined the court session in support of your husband, positioned at the throne beside him, while numerous men, each to their own titles and lordship, stood before you both. The courtiers' visages displayed incandescent umbrage as they protested and vehemently rejected the malignance from the rival empire in defense to the Emperor of Caelum. Yet the subject of the scrutiny himself remained staid and dignified. 

“We cannot remain idle in the face of such an insult. If war is what they seek, then we shall grant it unto them!” exclaimed one of the members of the imperial court. A proponent of war he presented himself.  

“Indeed, Your Majesty. To allow such an audacious act of disrespect would deem us cowards!” said another one of the men. 

Satoru rested his arm on the armrest, a hand on his chin. He appeared to be lost in profound contemplation, yet you have grown long familiar with that expression of his to know that he was fueled with choler inside. “What is your opinion on this, Etienne? War is not a decision made lightly.”

Lord Etienne, as his name was called, spoke his opinion on the matter at hand and acted as an advocate for caution. “I agree, my lord. A hasty decision could plunge our empire into chaos and suffering. Perhaps, we can explore diplomatic channels first. War should be our last resort, not our first impulse.”

“Your Imperial Majesty!” Lord Armand countered. “With all due respect, your name has been besmirched! Is this not blasphemous to this empire and us, its men?” 

“Our men are not prepared for war, Lord Etienne,” the previous noble claimed. “And how can we wage war with our forces against those of Astheryn's? Their military prowess is the mightiest throughout the central continent. They are barbaric folks, enemies to peace. We are nothing but simple foes to them..”

The belittling of Caelum’s military strength ignited your ire since that the training of soldiers, weapon crafting, and the establishment of the formidable imperial order of knights were specialties of your family—a legacy that your noble ancestors had established in this empire. It was why your family’s ties to the imperial Gojou family remained strong throughout the years. Therefore, hearing such remarks was derogatory to you.  

You held your position and participated in the discussion. “Lord Etienne, do you speak so poorly of Caelum, your country, and speak so highly of Astheryn, your enemy?” For a moment, the court fell silent. “May God have mercy on you! Listen to his judgment. Is Caelum a joke to you? We have strengthened our military might since His Majesty’s ascent, and we are powerful enough to wage war against the entire world!”

“But Your Majesty—”

“Silence, all of you!” Satoru rose from his throne, exhaling in exasperation, and shot you a displeased look. His next words were sharp and his anger misdirected. “Empress, I appreciate your indignation, but this proves that women should not meddle in court sessions. Emotions depart from your mouth before logic enters your mind. You are dismissed from this session. Immediately.”

You could not fathom his sentences. For the longest time, never before had he dared to disrespect you in the presence of his subjects. Never had he dared to deny you of your rightful place as the empress of this nation, knowing full well the pivotal role you played in his ascension to the throne. Why, you could not speak! You were rendered speechless, too stunned to respond as you sank back into your seat, grappling with the sting of hurt and humiliation he had inflicted on you.

And somehow, Lord Maximillian’s eyes were uncharacteristically fixed on you as though they were in triumph at your situation. He did well enough to mask that with indifference withal. What was this hostility? Even the knights who approached you only had regard for the emperor, following his command of escorting you out of the council chamber despite your desire to stay seated. Yet to save face from this abomination, you did it upon yourself to stand up and leave at your own will. 

“Nanami.” In your disappearance, Satoru spoke again, this time facing his subjects. “How do you propose we navigate this situation?”

Lord Nanami was more of the voice of reason, expressing his approach on the matter with neither bias towards engaging in or retreating from war. “My liege, I speak in your best interest. Let us convene with our allies, assess our military readiness, and explore all avenues for resolution. Only then shall we make an informed decision. It is most appropriate that we prepare ourselves against the enemy.”

Satoru already knew the answer before the man had spoken of it. Why so? Because it was the same route he would take. Only, it was his wounded pride and disdain towards his greatest adversary that landed him to a much more inhospitable decision. “Along with that blasphemous tapestry, written in his message, did that Emperor of Astheryn disparagingly refer to me as a usurper when I am the true born heir to the throne.” He ground out the words with clenched teeth as he stared at the portrait of his father. His hands balled into fists, his face hot and pinched with resentment. He detested being called a ‘usurper’ as he detested Astheryn and all of the Zen’ins. Regardless of the path he took to claim his throne, he was still a direct lineal heir to the Gojou bloodline. “I cannot let that pass. I cannot let his insult go unanswered. Hence, take down these words and address them to him, who is my enemy.” Satoru stared straight ahead, his face blank and emotionless as he spoke his next words in flawless Astherean language. “Emperor of Astheryn, your words are as venomous as they are misguided. While you revel in your petty insults and thinly veiled threats, know this: the patience of Caelum wears thin. Your tapestry of deceit and blasphemy shall find no place within the halls of our empire. Let it be known that the path you tread leads only to ruin and despair. Should you persist in your folly, Caelum shall meet your challenge with unwavering resolve. Consider this your final warning. The drums of war beat ever louder, and Caelum will not hesitate to answer the call. For this usurper you deride may stay true to that label when I seize your throne and make it mine.” 

Following the court session, the emperor retreated to the training hall until late evening venting his wrath against the despot from the rival empire. He devoted hours in the hall, wielding his sword, sparring with the swordsmanship master, and decisively overpowering him to feel a sense of honor for himself. In his mind, each strike was a fierce expression of his imagination, envisioning what that battle would be like if it were Emperor Toji II in his stead. It would have been their second encounter in the battlefield as the first one ended in armistice for the sake of the prince and princess. This time, however, the execution of this battle would be markedly different. 

Later that evening, he returned to his study, still in his armor as he met with his most loyal advisor. It was a private counsel to discuss matters unbeknownst to the rest of the empire—the prophecy and, notably, you. 

“I fear this as I say this: the prophecy is upon you, my lord.” Lord Maximillian’s voice hinted at unease. His warning, spoken with a mood of paranoia. “The oracle’s riddles are coming to fruition, and this predicament with Astheryn is a clear example of that fact. War looms on the horizon, and it threatens to be your undoing. Now, more than ever, we need the support of another nation like Ellesmere.” 

“I see that.” Satoru responded with a heavy exhale, tossing his metal helmet onto the carpeted floor. He made his way toward the expansive window and gazed out at the courtyard below. There, he spotted you, meandering the rose garden alone under the cover of night. You were brighter than the envious moon, coruscating like a fresh tulip amongst the field of wilted roses. 

The lord cleared his throat and stood next to the emperor. “You must rid yourself of her, Your Majesty. If the prophecy has taught us anything, it is that the Empress serves as a harbinger of your downfall. The destruction of Caelum is inevitable if you retain her. Abandon all hope that she will bring you a child or luck. I acknowledge the attachment you have formed with her over the years, but she brings ill fate to all of us.”

You stopped at the fountain, seemingly lost in deep thought, and then began an expressive argument with yourself in your solemnity. The sight earned his smile. Satoru could not keep his eyes off you as if they were drawn by your beauty under the luminescence of the moon. How pitiful, truly, that your innocence left you no knowledge of the conversation he was having with his advisor. 

“She shall be appointed as a concubine,” he declared, “Ridding of her is a waste; divorcing her offers a suitable solution. She may not have my heir, but she is a strong empress. A true villainess, yes. That, she may be, but she is devoted to me.” 

“Which is precisely why you must dispose of her!” Lord Maximillian pressed onto the matter with greater seriousness. “My liege, it is anticipated that you will yearn for Empress Y/N’s loyalty even after your marriage with the Princess of Ellesmere. And her ferocious devotion could only hinder your plans and bring about your downfall. Who’s to say she will withstand the temptation to inflict harm upon the fair Princess Katarina out of jealousy? This, as you know, could turn Ellesmere against us!” His passionate speech then silenced him into a quiet plea. “Please, Your Majesty, consider it deeply. For the sake of this empire.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT V

In the evening, at the hour of eleven did you find yourself wandering the garden. It had become more and more difficult to live each day, unable to grasp why your spouse had been hostile against you for reasons you could not justify. If it were matters concerning your apparent infertility, then he could easily get a concubine just as you had already permitted. All of Caelum’s nobility was well aware of your possessiveness towards him, yet it was you who proposed the idea of a concubine to him. Why, then, does he still entertain the idea of remarriage? Is it to guarantee that his heir will not be deemed a bastard? He possessed the authority to prevent such a label from being attached to the child.

“Oh, how cruel is this fate!” You paused by the fountain, observing your reflection in the glistening water. “You have given me a husband devoid of passion! Am I no longer beautiful? Have I lost my allure and youthful appearance? Has Cupid directed his arrow elsewhere? Oh, he must be insane!”

Tears welled up your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked into the mirrored reflection. You thought of Satoru’s hateful gaze when you closed your eyes and could feel the painful knots in your stomach. He had been nothing but a distant spouse for eight years in your marital union, and as unfortunate as you were, any improvements were farfetched. Every attempt at progress only fueled into a relationship filled with disagreements. 

Your monologue resumed. “Could there be another woman? A maid, perhaps? One who sneaks into his bed at night while I sleep soundly. Shame on her! Fie, insolent wench! Or could it be a noblewoman he met at a ball, a coming-of-age ceremony, or anything of the sort? Vile, dishonorable harlot! I shall strip you of your noble status and exile you from Caelum!”

A sigh ended your ranting, leaving you with more tears to shed as you fondly remembered your youthful days of infatuation with him. He was the man you had dreamed of, yet now all he would do was to quarrel, and quarrel, and quarrel. You had become an enemy in his eyes. He may have drowned you with extravagant gifts and the rarest jewels throughout your marriage, but the one you most coveted—his love—was one he could not give. 

“My lady?” 

You turned around at the sound of the gentleman’s voice, whereupon a knight presented himself to you. No, not merely any other knight, but the Knight Commander of the Imperial Order of Knights. Sir Suguru, Caelum’s most prized possession, a power and battle-fit warrior, who could defeat a hundred armed men by himself alone. He was referred to as a hero by this empire’s people. His commitment to chivalry and service did not go unnoticed as your husband, the very emperor he served, had more than once awarded him for fostering high morale and esprit de corps among other knights. 

“What brings you here, and why?” you asked, watching him curtsy before you as he did the standard imperial greetings. His silver suit of armor gleamed, reflecting the stars in the sky, while the black cloak enveloping him mirrored the void of the night. Truly, an intimidating presence for those that knew none of him. 

However, his face was a stark difference from the aura he exuded. His eyes curved into crescent moons as he smiled, offering what appeared to be a handkerchief. “I am making my nightly rounds in the palace, and upon hearing Your Majesty’s distress, I had to come forth. Is everything alright, Empress?” 

You sighed in lamentation and accepted the linen cloth from his hand. “To claim that everything is ‘alright’' is a wishful sentiment. The state of my marriage troubles me, yet I shall not burden you with such matters, for they are private.”

Suguru acquiesced to your words and nodded in respect toward you, still remaining by your side in silence. Like a personal guard stationed to protect you as it seemed he had no intention of leaving you alone in the courtyard. 

“How dare you! Do you not care to leave a woman in peace?” you questioned, a moue forming on your face. The tears had long dried from your cheeks as you spoke to him. “I wish to be alone!”

It was already a rare sight to cross the Knight Commander’s path around the palace, given that his duties did not include serving as a personal guard to the emperor. He was typically present only during official or diplomatic gatherings, and rather trained and oversaw the elite group of guards that would protect the emperor and empress. Nevertheless, with what little interactions you had with him, Suguru had always conducted himself as a respectful and dutiful subject towards you. 

“Forgive me. It is quite dangerous to be alone outside at night, Your Majesty. Your vulnerability may pose a risk to your safety.” He moved to unclasp his mantle, draping the large black cloak around your shoulders, a much smaller figure than himself. “And if you permit, the night is cold, and a lady must stay warm.”

There was a strange flutter in your heart as your wide eyes saw the gentility in his intentions. You could no longer question why dozens of noble women would line up to vie for his attention. His actions spoke better than his words ever could. How far, you wondered, would his kindness to you take him? “Are you not a bound subject to my husband?” 

“Indeed, I am.” He stared ahead. “I have been his friend since our youth. However, it is with Your Majesty’s kin that I owe the honor of being a knight. It is with the support of your father, the Grand Duke, that I consider myself alive, standing here in this palace as the leader of all knights.” 

Not once did you move your eyes away as you studied his sincerity. “Then, if I ask you to commit treason against the Emperor of Caelum,” you spoke with such regal power, “Shall I expect your commitment to me?” 

For a while, Suguru did not speak. He appeared to be contemplating his answer as his stance had become defensive. Or hesitant, whichever fit. He did not meet your careful eyes, though he did look down and confess a knowledge that greatly devastated you. “The prophecy governs His Majesty’s attitude towards you. In the dungeon hides an oracle he visits every fortnight. I accompanied him during one of these visits, where the oracle predicted the need for an heir soon and told him that the failure to produce one may lead to his downfall at the hands of a woman not of royal blood. To my understanding, he interpreted her riddles as the need to execute you and wed another woman of true royal lineage. This truth solidifies my allegiance to you, Empress.” 

Upon hearing Suguru’s words did your heart sink, and a wave of disbelief washed over you. It felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a state of shock, desperately trying to grasp the magnitude of what had just been revealed to you. 

“Faugh! By’r Lady, that is a grave accusation!” Anger simmered beneath the surface of your composed exterior. You were livid at Suguru for being the bearer of such devastating news, for being the messenger of your potential downfall, and felt betrayed by your own husband, the Emperor, for keeping such a crucial prophecy hidden from you. You wondered why he had never shared this information with you, why he allowed you to live in ignorance while he made plans for your potential demise. But one thing for certain, was that this was the reason for his growing detachment toward you. 

The knight could only provide you with a comforting bow. “I am afraid these words are true, my lady. Lord Maximilian conspires with him. Hurry to the dungeons and seek the oracle. She will reveal the truth to you.”

Beneath your anger lay a profound sadness, a heartache that cuts to the core of your being. The realization that your own husband, the man you loved and had pledged your life to, saw you as nothing more than a pawn in a game of power and succession. You felt a sense of profound loss, mourning not only the potential loss of your own life but also the loss of trust, of love, of the future you had envisioned.

Despite the tumult of emotions raging within you, you remained outwardly composed, your mask of regal poise firmly in place. You knew you must tread carefully, that showing weakness now would only play into the hands of those who seek your downfall. 

And yet, the devil showed himself. You had been oblivious to your husband’s presence by the window of his study as he stood a great distance from you, watching you engage in an intimate conversation with his Knight Commander down below. He could not gauge where that sudden familiarity came from as he witnessed Suguru draping his cape around you—an action that crossed a territory he should not have sought. The emperor could no longer tolerate watching it, walking in haste along the halls of the palace until he eventually reached the courtyard. His gaze was burning into the back of Suguru’s head as he stopped behind you, waiting for you to notice your husband’s approach before he spoke. 

“Empress.” His deep voice startled you. 

Your eyes were clouded with resentment, hidden under the veil of a devoted wife. “My liege.” 

Satoru stared at Suguru with a fierce look before turning to you. “It is dangerous to be out at this hour. I wish nothing untoward to happen to you, so I came here to ensure your safety.”

“I apologize, then, for causing you worry.” A bitter smile painted your lips and the tone of your voice suggested of feigned concern. “As you see, I have a knight here who is trained to guard and protect me.” 

The emperor narrowed his eyes at the aforementioned knight, who elected silence out of deference to the reigning monarchs before him. This very knight was a childhood friend of his, but now Satoru regarded him as a rival, for all the peculiar reasons. “You may leave, Suguru,” he commanded, and yanked the cape from the empress’ body, then flung it toward the knight. “I will take my wife back.”

Satoru caught you sending an apologetic look toward the Knight Commander, which in return caused his ire to grow. What was the conversation you shared with him for you to act that way? In fact, he had never seen you pay another man that much attention. What a devious, little wench. A foxy, scheming jezebel. Satoru threw insults at you in his head as he took your arm in a tight grip, pulling you away from the courtyard. The silence between the two of you was thick with unspoken tension as he led you up the spiral staircase on the eastern side of the castle. His side of the castle. 

“Darling.” Your endearment came out as a protest as you tried to pull your arm from his grip. “Unhand me.” 

Still and all, he was silent as he dragged you along. It was only a short distance to his quarters, but he did not let go of you even once. You should see in his eyes that he was not amused by the friendly interaction between you and Suguru. 

“I said release my hand, at this very instant!” 

He remained like a taciturn man while ushering you into his quarters. Once he had locked the door behind him, he released his grip on your wrist and turned to confront you. His eyes grew dark and cold. A shade of blue that reminded you of lightning. “I would prefer it if he did not approach you when I am not present.”

“Ah, now you care!” Scoffing, you glared at him. “He simply offered his best to comfort me. Do not suspect it of anything else,” said you defensively, in a voice backed by your authority. Only now did he realize that the expression on your face had become austere. 

“Even if that were true, I have no need for another man—especially a knight—to comfort my wife.”

“A wife? A wife you asked for divorce?” you mocked as his statement erupted a laughter out of you. A loud, boisterous laughter that screamed an insult to his face. “You see me as nothing but a bearer of children. Not as a wife or a person you treasure with your heart.” As you ridiculed him with a hint of humor on your face, your eyes had also grown deranged. “A mere pawn to your chessboard is what I am.” 

Satoru was rigid in his stance. “I merely proposed divorce if you were unable to conceive. As emperor, it is my duty to father an heir. If the empress cannot fulfill that duty, I am compelled to find someone else who can—”

“An heir this, an heir that. Out upon it!” You expressed your frustration outwardly, throwing your hands into the air. “Go get yourself a concubine, then, and I will get myself a lover to even the score.” 

A lover? Satoru was seething, yet his expression remained unchanged. He knew that you were taunting him, and still chose not to give you the reaction you wanted. “Then, I am sure you will have more success at producing heirs with your lover than you do with me.” 

“Certainly!” you bit back, anger rising in each syllable. “In place of my husband, perhaps my lover can give me a child, proving to the whole empire that it is not I who is barren.”

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up in response to the blatant insult to his fertility. His cold eyes narrowed, the rage within him intensifying. “If you have a child with your lover, it will not discredit my fertility at all. It will instead bring into question my choice to have a child with a woman who is unable to be faithful to her husband.”

Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. “If you get yourself a concubine, then I will have my own lover. That or nothing at all.”

“Enough! I do not seek a concubine,” he raised his voice, a spasm of irritation crossing his face. “You are nothing but a maggot-pie, crawling in the dirt, serving no purpose for me! Ill-tempered shrew! I have said it many times, and I say it once more. In your failure to conceive, my intention is to remarry another lady and make her the empress, not a concubine! My heir must be legitimate. Stick that to your empty head!”

Satoru could feel the heat of your stare burning into him, but his mind had suddenly wandered back to the previous conversation, and he could not help but wonder whether you would actually have an affair with another man. The thought of it infuriated him, but he pushed it out of his mind as you stared at him in blazing fury. 

“Must I remind you that it was I who assisted Your Majesty in ascending to the throne?” A warning shadow crossed your features. “I played a crucial role in staging a coup to overthrow your tyrant parents. If the princess had not perished, would you not be considered a madman? Now tell me, the only compensation I seek is your love, yet have you paid your dues?”

He scoffed at your words. You believe all you did in leading the rebellion was for the purpose of making him emperor? It was in your best interests to see yourself climb the ranks of an imperial power. And it was certainly not love you sought, but mere attention and validation. “My respect should be enough of a reward for you. I took you as my wife as a sign of my gratitude. Love was never a part of the deal.”

“Love is the very essence of that deal,” countered you. “You would be foolish not to think so.” 

In his eyes, love and affection were something you should receive only when you deserve it, not when you demand it. In his mind, you had grown too familiar with him, too spoiled by his presence. It was time he corrected this. “You are mistaken to think that love is a condition of our relationship. I have never made promises of love or affection. I only promised you attention and the prestige of being an empress. Have I not fulfilled this promise and made you into an empress in every sense? Love is merely an illusion conjured in your imagination.”

“You are a tyrant through and through!” You pushed him away, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “What devil are you, that you torment me like this? You miserable villain! Usurping knave! Betrayer of blood, who masquerades himself an emperor under a false sovereign! I placed you on that throne you so wistfully enjoy. Your power and authority hold no sway over me.”

The emperor’s jaw clenched tightly as his empress’ words cut through the air like a dagger. His pride was wounded by the venom of your words—words you had not carefully chosen, or perhaps did carefully choose, as you knew what words he despised hearing the most. His eyes flashed with jaundice as he fought to contain the roiling emotions churning within him. He wanted to lash out, to defend his honor and assert his authority, but he knew that such displays of weakness would only fuel the flames of dissent and discord.

Instead, he yanked your wrist again. “Do not forget your place, wife.” And then he grabbed your face with a rough hand, slamming you against the wall. “I may have promised not to take a concubine, but that privilege does not extend to your behavior.” The tightness of his grip caused your cheeks to ache slightly, and he showed no signs of letting go.

“And what will you do?” you spoke through gritted teeth. 

“What will I do? I will remind you of your position, wife,” he continued to speak in a menacing tone, “But you may test my patience as much as you like. Go ahead and take a lover as you have claimed you would. Let us see how your arrogance holds up when I force you to bear his bastard child.”

You cussed him under your breath. “Is that jealousy?”

Yet, his countenance proved otherwise. “It is not. You see, I am not possessive of you. You can bear whomever’s child you wish. But you must be aware, that once that child is born, I would never claim my title as the father. It would be deemed a bastard, its blood impure and its existence an insult to my throne.”

“Do not lecture me on matters of infidelity when you are the one desperate to bed another woman.” You were bold enough to send him a look of disgust. “You are an emperor all due to me. Without me, you are nothing.”

In a fit of rage, Satoru exploded like a volcano spilling out its reservoir of hot, scorching lava. “You?! You think yourself the savior of this empire? Not by far!” There was a brief pause before he continued, eyes looking at you in unforgiving judgment. “I would have succeeded in leading the coup, even without you.”

A snort escaped your lips. “Delude yourself to that.”

“The guards are gone. You have no witnesses.” The warning he had issued was laden with the implication of impending punishment, fueled by your defiance and vitriol, driving him to a boiling point. He seized your wrist once more, his grip tighter than before, as he leaned in close and spoke into your ear. “I could hurt you right here and now if I wanted to, yet I show you mercy.”

“I need none of your mercy,” you spat, taken aback as he pushed you against the wall. You could feel his breath fanning your neck as he leaned closer, inches before your face. 

Satoru’s laughter rang out as you persisted in your resistance, his eyes narrowing with a mix of intrigue and anger. Your defiance only served to stoke the flames of his wrath as he began to speak, “Darling,” and made a mockery of your endearment, “Perhaps I can ravish you until you are senseless.”

“Vainglorious dastard,” you spitefully replied.

He spoke no words for several moments, his breathing gradually intensifying as he gazed down at you like a toy he wanted to destroy. And for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he was weighing whether to persist or not, but eventually, he made his choice, his voice adopting a more ominous tone with each word. “I will destroy you.”

“S-Satoru!”

He pushed you towards his bed, and himself against you, pressing his body heavily atop yours. His breath became uneven with his anger overtaking his mind. Your whimper of fear filled him with sadistic satisfaction. “Yes, me, as you said. No one else is here with us, and no one would bat an eye if they heard a scream.”

Your decision to pull his hair proved to be a significant mistake, though it was evident from your expression that you derived pleasure from it. You longed for it. You desired this wanton affection. This carnal desire. Lust bathed in your eyes as you observed him hastily tear his clothing, eager to feel the velvety touch of your skin against his. He wasted no time in undressing you as well, ripping away whatever obstructed your bareness, leaving you both exposed under the moonlight, indulging in the passions shared between lovers.

“I despise you,” you declared, a hot moaning mess under him as he rammed his hardened shaft in between your legs where he himself was grunting at the pleasure of your tight entrance. In and out he went, and buried his face on your neck to leave purple marks all over your skin. “I-I despise you!”

“I share those sentiments,” he jested, squeezing your breast in labored breaths before he sucked the rounded mass in his mouth, earning your titillating moans.  

By the end of your long passionate exchange, he lay next to you, body soaked in sweat as he watched your sleeping face. The peace in those saintly features. Did you pass out? He could not be certain. Was he too rough? That, he was certain. It showed on the bruises that mapped parts of your body. He could feel a small tinge of guilt within him as he moved to pull the blanket over you, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Is this not love?” He opened his eyes when heard you laughing softly, eyes still shut but with a bitter smile spreading on your face. In a cold tone of voice, you whispered, “Your love is tough, yet love nonetheless.” 

He knew it was not love, yet even if it was, you would soon be taken care of anyway. You would be exiled or worse, executed, should you fail to heed his warnings. He had to put his ambitions first and foremost before any form of affection he had of you. And if you truly, unconditionally loved him, you would understand why. 

That, that was how he defined love to be. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT VI

The castle’s dungeon was an… unsightly place. Aside from the centuries of brutal torture and grotesque deaths that occurred down under, it also housed the memory of Satoru shedding his hands on his kinsmen’s blood. That was the place where he had slain his father, his rotting head still mounted on the wall as though he was an animal that his son had hunted. A tyrant, undoubtedly. Satoru’s penchant for brutality knew no bounds, but he certainly got it from his father. While you were responsible for the death of a little over a hundred people, his would account for more than thrice that number. 

As you descended further into the depths of the dungeon, the air grew heavy with the miasma of damp stone, blood, and decay. A putrid, sickening odor greeted your nose the more you entered. If not for the torches that flickered dimly along the walls, you would not be able to see at all, yet those torches casted eerie shadows that danced and swayed with each step you took. It was a frightening sight and definitely not for the faint hearted. 

“Help!” Your senses were assailed by the sights and sounds of the dungeon's grim inhabitants as you ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. Gaunt specters lurked in the shadows, their hollow eyes gleaming with a sinister light as they whispered chilling secrets to one another in sotto voce. Some also cried of agony and despair, some had already fallen unhinged from being held in captivity for so long—it became a cacophony of anguished cries and tortured souls. “Help me, Empress! I beg my innocence!”

“Step back, Your Majesty.” Suguru, who acted as your companion in this macabre trip, unsheathed his sword to protect you from being touched by the prisoners. He threatened to slash their hands with just a simple touch on your dress. 

“Empress! Empress!”

You deemed it wise to pull the hood of the cloak over your face, especially as the prisoners were starting to recognize you within these cursed confines. It would be troublesome if Satoru were to arrive soon and they began to scream your name in his presence.

“Empress, this dungeon is meant for souls as tainted as yours!” 

That statement proved itself to be spine-chilling and hair-raising, as such accusations could not be denied. Truthfully, your crimes far surpassed theirs. You belonged with the forsaken and the damned. You already accepted that all your sins and trespasses would bring you nowhere near heaven, yet you had blindly murdered people out of love for Satoru. That was how crazy you were at winning him over. And now, this is where it brought you. 

But you pressed on and continued traipsing through the dungeon until you could feel the presence of the oracle drawing closer, a beacon of hope amidst the despair that gripped the dungeon like a vice.

Finally, you reached the chamber where the oracle awaited. It was a figure cloaked in shadow at the far end of the room. And upon adjusting your visions, you could see that the oracle was an old woman, her white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around her frail shoulders. Her skin, alabaster. Her eyes, ghoulish and devoid of color, and they seemed to pierce the veil of reality itself as she spoke in riddles and whispers that sent shivers down your spine. It was your first time to encounter such an unrealistic being. They said each word from the oracle dripped with the weight of centuries of wisdom and foreboding. She spoke of prophecies and portents, of trials and tribulations yet to come, her words weaving a tapestry of fate and destiny that hung heavy in the air like a shroud.

“Speak.” You stopped at her chamber, demanding to hear the prophecy she had said to your husband. “Tell me the Emperor’s prophecy.” 

Much to your ire, she gave you no response, still staring at the empty wall. 

“Speak!” Your patience was growing thin as each passing second would crumble any hope you had inside that Satoru was not a man who would forsake you, or even execute you, in exchange for his ambitions. But it had been twenty or so minutes and still there was no word from the oracle. “Do you not possess a voice? Are you not a fortune-teller?” 

Suguru sucked in a deep breath. Should his accusations of the emperor prove to be a lie, you swore to yourself that you would be the one to put him inside one of the iron maidens in the dungeon. Or that daunting Judas cradle if he preferred. “Your Majesty, it takes time to make her speak.” 

“I do not have that luxury of time! I cannot be seen here.” You gave him a menacing stare. “At the risk of your own life, Sir Knight, if this turns out to be nothing but foolishness, I will personally disembowel you—”

“Beware! O Empress, keeper of fragile dreams!” 

The sudden burst of the oracle’s voice startled you, as they were far from what you had expected from an old lady. It carried an otherworldly quality that seemed to transcend her physical form. They were melodic and haunting, a chilling quality that hinted at the supernatural origins of her prophetic abilities. It was as though you were paralyzed by the time she spoke, like all your senses stopped working and all you could ever do was be forced to listen to her prophecy.

“For the Emperor's gaze wanders far,

As he seeks a lady of royal blood,

Ambition cloaked in the guise of lineage,

And in his thirst for power, lies your peril.”

As you listened, your heart bled terribly, knowing that the answers you sought lay buried within the enigmatic riddles of the oracle’s words. The haunting words of the prophecy echoed through the dim chamber where you stood frozen, in a state of despair and disbelief and every awful thing in the world combined. The truth, once a lurking suspicion, now materialized before you and it left your heart in shattered pieces because you actually hoped that none of the accusations were true. So, how could Satoru do this to you? How could he betray you after all your sacrifices just to be his wife, your efforts just to receive his love, and your crimes just to satisfy his desires? Through your hands, more than a hundred souls had perished. You had shed the blood of many Christian souls for him. You had offered him your chastity and turned back on your reverence by profaning the word of God. You had worshiped him like a divine being. Yet so easily would he cast you away. No, he could not even offer the slightest pleasure of loving you genuinely, without any inhibitions, without anything in exchange. 

While your sacrifices were his definition of the “greater good”, his betrayal against you was his definition of a “lesser evil”. It was his “personal gain”, for your demise would have no profound repercussions on this empire. 

Undoubtedly, that must be his truest and utmost feelings for you. 

Suguru held you in his arms when you fell to the ground, your entire world crashing before you as the oracle revealed your husband’s plans. Your hands were shaking, trembling. You had trouble breathing. He was there to guide you out of the dungeon safely, even if you were to run and weep like a madwoman. But of course, you were not that insane yet. It was simply the ache in your heart that catapulted you into an abyss of pain. 

Satoru must not succeed in his plans. He must not come out victorious. The greatest revenge you could think of was brimming in the back of your mind, ignited by the visible spite you felt for him and his web of deceit. 

And back alone in your bedchambers, nausea overcame you and had you vomiting all over the floor. You retched the harrowing experience at the dungeons, disgusted by things you saw and heard, especially the treachery of your very husband. You were sick at the thought of him planning your assassination behind your back, like an ungrateful imbecile who only cared about himself and his vainglory. 

“Nurse!” you called, coughing out the foul taste of bile expelled from your throat. “Come here!” 

“Coming, madam!” Geneva came to your aid as soon as you summoned her and tended to your needs immediately. At the time, you could not make out much of the clatter that was happening inside your chambers as you lay in bed with your eyes shut. It seemed that Geneva had ordered the other servants to clean out the mess you had created, while she took over in putting you to bed and making sure that you were warm and comfortable. She had no single idea about what was going through your mind, and had she had any hint about what it was, you could only imagine how bloody traumatized she would be. 

If Satoru wanted to dethrone and destroy you, then you might as well help him with it. He should no longer be surprised to see what good of a show you could offer for everyone in this empire. 

“Good madam,” Geneva called gently, after an hour or so, pulling you out of trance. “A physician is already—”

You lifted a hand, stopping her while you tried to get out of bed. “That won’t be necessary.” Despite your queasiness, you had decided that there was no time to waste for this war of love and death against your husband. The sooner you planned things out, the greater your advantage would be. You had to have the upperhand in this. “Nurse, where did my husband go?” 

The nurse guided you up and draped a lightweight shawl around your shoulders. “I believe His Majesty is conducting a military inspection. He is accompanied by about ten knights.” 

An inspection? It must be related to the discussion at the imperial court. Of course, if Satoru was planning to wage war against Astheryn, he had to review the troops stationed in different regions of the empire to assess readiness, morale, and preparedness for defense. He could deploy an initial 25,000 men in his heavy infantry should he find the need to go on an all-out war with the enemy, but those amount of soldiers would require the emperor himself to arduously test if they were ready for battle. Naturally, the inspection could last four or five days depending on his assessment. And in his absence in the palace, either the empress or the other trusted advisors would usually take on the duties that usually were his. 

This was the perfect opportunity to devise your plan; to prune the branches, weaken the trunk, and uproot the tree entirely. The branches began with his loyal advisors, which have already been filtered out as those previously appointed by his parents became his enemies. Enemies that died by his hands and yours, because those enemies were advisors who did not support Satoru in his method of seizing the highest throne, so he could not risk having rebels in the empire who would later work together to topple him from his seat. When he first rose to the throne, he had several assassination attempts aimed at him, typically by means of poisoning his food with arsenic, or hiring highly skilled mercenaries to slay him behind his back—all of those attempts were intercepted by you. And at the elimination of those disloyal to him, Satoru assumed that the current members of the imperial court could hence be trusted since they had not shown any hints of falsity for the ten years they had served him. 

The difference between you and Satoru was that he was easily beguiled because the noblemen treated him a lot differently than you. They were ass-lickers, trying to win him over for their own superficial benefits, while you knew who among them were simply supporting Satoru for the sake of not being executed. Out of fear, out of an inherent will to live, out of an obvious lack of choice—there was one noble who stood out among the rest. 

And it was the one whose presence was not the loudest. 

“Lord Nanami.” Upon mentioning his name, you entered the palace library—a grandeur chamber notable for its high ceilings, expansive oak shelves, and accoutrements—as he stood in front of a wood table, strangely interested in codices. “Nice to see you.” 

The blond nobleman curtsied. “Your Imperial Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence.” 

You gestured your hand into dismissing him, cutting to the chase because you were still unwell. And for all the necessary reasons, you had to have this conversation with him or else there would not be an easier opportunity with Satoru’s eyes and ears around the palace. Nanami was his most trusted advisor, not Maximilian as much as he fooled himself to think so. “What is that codex you are reading?”

Nanami spoke cautiously, his eyes fixed on the codex. “Of some medical writings and scientific treatises. Rumors are circulating about a mysterious outbreak in a remote village in Constantia, a city within the grand duchy of Valoria. It seems to be an illness that is spreading rapidly with only a 2% chance of survival. I hear they are calling it the ‘Black Death’ due to the appearance of gangrene. Considering the trade routes, that city lies along the Veridian Sea, which is a path taken by the ship that trades metals and minerals with us. They engage in that route due to Constantia’s involvement with the slave trade, boarding the ship bound for Caelum for the metals and minerals, while ferrying their slaves all the way to Astheryn, their largest buyer.”

As if the gods were with you! 

The topic pulled your sudden interest, for it was proving to be exactly what you needed for your plan to be successful. “An illness, you say? What records do we have about its origin?” 

“Valorians perceive it as divine punishment for their involvement in the slave trade. Another prevalent theory is the miasma it brings, attributing the disease to foul odors and noxious fumes in the air and in the environment in which they live. Personally, I suspect it originates from a bacterium resulting from interactions between humans and infected animals.” Despite lacking sufficient research to support his hypothesis, you acknowledged that Nanami’s personal theory seemed more plausible. “The symptoms suggest to me that it is not airborne, contrary to what most people assume.”

You kept your eyes on him as he fixed his pince-nez. “What symptoms does it have? And what conclusion do they have there on what they are?”

“Your Majesty, a swarm of dead rats were found in Constantia a month ago,” he first informed, leading you to his suspicions. “Given the escalating tension with Astheryn and our increased need for metal to support our crafting and weaponry, I bade a dispatcher to send a message to Constantia due to their failure to supply us with the agreed-upon metal,” Nanami explained, showing a haze of regret behind in his eyes. “The dispatcher wrote back to me, stating that he is unable to return to Caelum promptly as he was experiencing chills, buboes, and gangrene. I presume he perished within days of arriving there.”

The moue you displayed on your face could not be stopped. “Does His Majesty know of these rumors in Valoria that you speak of?” 

“His Majesty, the Emperor, has not yet been informed of the matter.” The blond nobleman looked at you solemnly. “It is my duty to inform him as soon as he returns from his—”

“No, you are not going to do so,” you commanded sternly, surprising him in turn. “You will not breathe a word of this to Satoru. Follow my orders, and you shall be duly rewarded.”

This was good. This was perfect for your plans! If it was true that such illness was spreading in Valoria, it would only be a matter of time until the plague reached Caelum and wiped half its population. You laughed heartily inside your head. It would be an utmost entertainment for you to watch Satoru’s downfall before your very eyes. If Astheryn was no threat to him, then biological warfare would certainly destroy him. No one else had to know of your schemes but you.

Of course, the ever-so-noble Nanami was not easy to convince, especially if it was a clash between his duty and morality. “Empress, I struggle to understand… Such matters could pose dangers to Caelum and its lands. His Majesty needs to be informed, as he possesses the authority to prevent the trade ship from reaching us. Astheryn had already long ceased their slave trading because of it. We must do the same.”

“And do you believe I lack the authority to issue commands as an empress?” You raised an eyebrow at him, and his stance became more apologetic. “Proceed with the trade by any means necessary. I will sign the permit, and the ship shall arrive as planned next Monday. Let us not allow rumors of illness to hinder us from obtaining the necessary metal from the city of Constantia. As you said, we require ample supplies for our weaponry. We must seize this opportunity to bolster our arms. Do not mention this to His Majesty, and if you dare, you shall face the punishment of having your tongue cut out.”

Nanami’s eyes widened. “But Your Majesty…”

You pressed your hand firmly against the table and asserted your authority over him. “I have control over a couple of remote islands near the outskirts of Caelum. Surely, you are familiar with them? I will direct my father, the Grand Duke, to transfer one of the larger estates to you. Furthermore, I shall offer you a quarter of my jewels and 15000 celestas as a deposit. In return, I request that you retire from your position and refrain from conversing with my husband ever again.”

It was a fair bargain. The man was certainly considering that because not only would he secure his own land and riches, he would also be away from the dangers of the plague should it truly spread throughout Caelum and its nearby nations. He would be safe there in his own estate with enough money to retire early. “Empress… whatever it may be that you are planning, this is treason.” 

“This or punishment is your only option,” you declared, eyes burning with fire. “Choose wisely.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT VII

The preparation for the New Year’s ball was arduous, and you spared no effort to ensure that every detail lived up to Caelum’s prestige. Because you had a generous budget allocation for this year's banquet, you did not hold back on the display of wealth, power, and culinary sophistication. The menu alone boasted elaborate roast meats, poultry dishes, pies, pastries, desserts, and confections, accompanied by a variety of wines and spirits to enhance the indulgent dining experience. More so, the smell of luxurious dishes inside the grand hall would be enough to water the mouths of the guests.

Invitations were extended not only to the nobility within the capital but also throughout the empire, welcoming all to partake in the feast as long as they came from noble houses. The theme, as initially requested by your husband, was black and silver to match the regalia, although this theme did not extend to the guests. They were free to choose their attire as they pleased, with the only restriction being to avoid the loud colors that represented Astheryn. 

It was well-known that Caelum’s nobility enjoyed flaunting their wealth and status among themselves, further highlighting the perception of the empire as superficial and governed by leaders who indulged in unethical opulence. While you may have denied such rumors, the truth remained: such ostentatious display of wealth was a century-long tradition upheld by the Gojou family to showcase the Caelum Empire as the wealthiest and most powerful across the central continent. If there was anyone Satoru should blame for this excessive extravagance, it should be his ancestors. Not you.

As the empress of this nation and the person who oversaw these types of celebrations, you saw it fit to wear an elegant gown befitting your status. You were dressed in a majestic gown of midnight black velvet, intricately embroidered with religious motifs and adorned with pearls and jewels that glimmered in the candlelight. A towering headpiece, resplendent with silver filigree and bedight with twisted crosses and angelic figures, rested upon your head as a symbol of your pretentious reverence for the church. You moved through the banquet hall with regal grace and elegance, a vision of piety and power, with your outward display of devotion masking the darkness of your thoughts inside. 

Next to you was your tyrant husband, whose attire was an obsidian velvet of the finest kind. Around his waist was a thick belt of black leather cinching the robe, its buckle emblazoned with the imperial insignia. His chest was bedecked with a chainmail hauberk, a display to his martial prowess and readiness for battle, while a silver mantle was draped over his shoulders, adding to his imposing presence. Upon his head sat a crown of gleaming silver encrusted with onyx and obsidian stones. 

“Long live the Emperor and the Empress! May Their Majesties reign be blessed!” 

Upon your entrance down the staircase to the Grand Hall, the guests offered their curtsies and salutations to you and your husband to show their deference and recognition to the imperialty. The nobles had their chance at a brief greeting with the imperial family based on their ranking, although Satoru showed little to no care for those at the lower ranks. Nonetheless, those of lower statuses devotedly sought to curry his favor and prove their allegiance to him. 

He is nothing but a fool, you thought inwardly as you watched your husband dismiss a mere count. Satoru must not have realized that those he considered of lower ranking were often the most loyal to him. They were driven by their wish to climb the upper echelon of high society, therefore, they would go to great lengths to gain recognition from the emperor. Conversely, if push comes to shove, those of higher statuses would be the first ones to turn their backs on the imperial family, as they already possessed the wealth and status to sustain their own estates and exclude themselves from the rest of the empire. 

“Lords and Ladies, esteemed guests, and subjects of my realm,” Satoru spoke with gracious authority as he stood by his throne, looking down on the nobility before him, “I stand before you on this very occasion, the commencement of a new year, to address the empire that rests beneath my unwavering rule. As your Emperor, I look upon the vast land that stretches beneath me, and aim to build great cities, forge mighty alliances, and expand our dominion to the farthest reaches of the known world. Tonight, we gather not merely to celebrate the turning of the calendar, but to reaffirm the absolute authority that guides our great empire. 

Let it be known, plainly and honorably, that the prosperity of this realm is intrinsically tied to the strength of its ruler. In my hands, I hold the reins of power, and I shall steer this ship through tumultuous waters with an unshakable resolve. Those who seek to challenge the stability of our empire will find themselves met with the full force of imperial might. 

Let this banquet serve as a reminder—a celebration of the empire’s indomitable strength and an acknowledgment of the consequences that befall those who dare to defy it. Raise your goblets high, my loyal subjects, for we embark upon another year under the banner of unassailable authority.”

Satoru might be a terrible spouse, but he certainly was not a terrible emperor. He asserted his authority when it demanded him the most, and he knew well enough how to make his subjects cower in terror at every word he spoke. His speech was a simple warning not only to the nobles, but perhaps also to you, as he believed the prophecy pictured you as a traitor to his reign. 

Initially, you could say he was wrong and that never in a million years would you betray the same person you helped ascend the throne. But now that his resolve was to entirely eliminate you in order to succeed in his ambitions, you would not deny such grave accusations of treason on your part. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. It was only too bad for him that he had no knowledge of what you knew, and that was exactly why you were ten steps ahead of him. 

The sound of classical music served as a backdrop for the banquet, with the dulcet sounds of flutes, harps, and viols creating an elegant ambiance through the hall. The nobles worked on their usual slobber and socialization, usually reserved for recently debuted ladies to mark their own impressions within high society. The males were often there to discuss lands and politics or to be in search of their bride who would become the next noble ladies of their respective houses. The scene reminded you of your happy days as a once noble lady, a daughter of a duke, who was also the most popular and most eligible bride for Crown Prince Satoru among all of the nobility within the Caelum Empire. Back then, your biggest rivals were Lady Anastasia de Florentine and Lady Serena de Visconti. Both ladies came from esteemed houses and had therefore become a threat to your desire to be Crown Princess. In terms of beauty, talent, and elegance; they were definitely strong contenders. What they lacked was the wit, the cunningness in which you pride yourself with, as you ended up becoming Satoru’s choice as his empress. 

You were aware that Satoru spent his years as a prince dallying with other noble ladies, even courtesans, as he himself was fair in the face. And he was aware that the ill-fate that had befallen some of those ladies were due to your own cruel doing. You tormented any lady that vied for his attention. It was not until he gave in and got to know what you offered did he stop fooling around with random whores, deeming them unworthy to stand next to him as they served no purpose for him in the long run. You offered a better role to him than the rest of them, especially with your skill as a tactician and your family’s background in the military and weaponry department, which all came in handy at the time of his usurpation to the throne. 

In other words, he knew how evil you could be from day one. And benefited from you because of it. 

“What troubles you?” he asked, holding your waist and your hand as you both gracefully danced in pavane. His hair was neatly brushed away from his forehead tonight, with a few stubborn strands dangling on the side. “You are unusually quiet.” 

You stared at his bright blue eyes coruscating under the chandeliers, noticing how his gaze wandered to a noble lady. “It is of no concern to you.” 

Satoru then narrowed his eyes at your coldness. “It concerns me greatly. What foolish game are you playing?” 

“A foolish act of playing the role of your wife,” you replied, brief and stern. “Does this banquet please you? I have invited the empire’s most beautiful and eligible ladies to be your concubines. All of noble birth and of age, so fret not. You may choose anyone to your liking. May the best suit you.”

The offense you caused was evident in his visage. As much as it entertained you, he was clearly enraged and on the verge of losing it. You already knew he would just remind you yet again that he wanted to remarry instead of getting a concubine, but it was too good of a reaction to pass up on. In fact, he stared at you blankly, speechless for a few moments as he processed the implications of your words. “This is the game you play?” he murmurs through gritted teeth, a hint of a scowl forming on his face. Conflicting emotions surged within him, a mixture of anger and hurt, yet ultimately he chose not to give you the reaction you seemed to seek. “I will humor you. Where are these concubines you speak of?”

You scoffed, and then laughed out loud to the point where it gained the curious stares of the nobles. “Search everywhere, and perhaps your eager eyes may find them,” you replied with absolute delight. “But that is all they shall be—mere concubines. If you prefer someone younger than me and a virgin, that is also possible—”

“Do not get smart with me,” Satoru warned, grabbing a tight hold of your chin. The muscles along his jaw tensed. “You are but a petulant wench, a mere ornament beside my throne, lacking the wit and wisdom to grasp the gravity of imperial decree. The issue of remarriage is not a subject for jest. Know your place, woman, and consider the consequences of your impudence.”

“Is that a threat?” You returned his glare, now feeling all eyes on the both of you. The thick air of tension permeated the hall like a cloud of incoming thunderstorm.

The emperor was not one to show weakness in front of public eyes, now displaying an authoritarian mien to his wife as he tightened his hold on your jaw. “Take it as you may.”  

In defense to your wounded pride, you shoved his hand away and maintained a rigid poise. “Keep your filthy hands off me, you usurping tyrant.” 

As tension crackled through the hall, a hushed unease descended upon the assembled guests. Murmurs  rippled through the crowd like a gathering tornado, and uneasy glances were darted between the nobles and servants as they witnessed the brewing disagreements of their imperial rulers. Some averted their gaze, feigning disinterest, while others leaned in with rapt attention, hungry for the spectacle unfolding before them. 

Meanwhile, Satoru was forcing a laugh at your chosen insult. Calling him a usurper really hit a nerve, as always. “Watch that foul-tongued mouth,” he warned once more, “Barren wretch!”

Approaching one of the palace sentinels halfway across the hall, you countered your husband’s heavy footsteps by drawing out a sword from a knight’s scabbard, thereupon making a swift turn to point the silver brand directly at his throat. You had not even realized that it was Suguru’s sword that you took. Deadly silence instantly spanned the hallway, and even the tick tock of the nearby clock had stopped because of the rising tension between Caleum’s reigning monarchs. 

But with one sword raised at the emperor’s neck, twenty more were directed back at the empress. Satoru’s loyal knights were quick to trap you in full circle to protect their sovereign ruler, forcing you to submit and restrain yourself from moving the sword any closer to the emperor’s throat. 

Unfortunately for him, being submissive was no longer in your repertoire. 

“You dare commit treason in my own palace?!” Your husband’s venomous blue eyes bore holes into your skull—his mouth thinning in displeasure as you stayed unwavered by his imperious tone. “You are too brave for an empress consort!” 

“That is rich coming from a usurper himself!” you countered, satisfied by the spasm of irritation crossing his face. “Have as many concubines and courtesans as you wish, but never disrespect me in front of my people. Do not treat me as if I am lower than a mistress simply because I have not borne you a child. Do not dare to look down upon me, for I am an empress first, before I am your wife.”

What kind of psychopath was that man, truly? 

You left the hall as soon as you said those prideful words, no longer wishing to hear what more intelligible things he had to say to you and of the preposterous scene in which you engaged. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you had come to despise every fiber of his being. He was an ungrateful imbecile who would slay his own kin at the price of his ambitions. You may have started the quarrel, but he did not need to escalate it and put his filthy blood-stained hands on you in front of the nobles. His goal might be to put you in your rightful place. However, he chose the wrong person to be his empress. That choice alone was the start of his tragic flaw. 

And with that disrespect would soon come his downfall. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT VIII

Satoru struggled to comprehend the shift in your demeanor toward him and the words you chose to speak to him. He found your behavior baffling, as if you had lost touch with reason to be acting such a lunatic. You were out of your bloody mind! What could have driven you to act so irrationally, becoming incensed at every little remark he made? Was it solely because he expressed a desire to remarry for the sake of an heir and requested you to step down from your throne? No, your anger seemed to stem from deeper roots than mere marital disagreements. The hostility in your eyes said so, and it was the kind that mirrored the animosity he had witnessed in his ancestors towards their rival empire. That was the level of rancor you had of him. 

Or could this be the dreaded prophecy coming to life? 

Maximilian had been warning him that the prophecy was becoming truer day-by-day, and that the only way to ultimately prevent it was to banish you. It should be easy, truly, since Satoru had no problems slaying his own kin and hundreds of men. Why should another soul like yours cause such an impact on him? 

Yet, Satoru found himself unable to take that step. The reasons eluded him. What he despised, however, was your increasing defiance. You were no longer the submissive wife he had grown accustomed to. Albeit your inherently strong personality, you had never before lashed out at him, insulted him, raised your voice, or shown him any form of antagonism. You always let him win arguments and understand your place. Extravagant gifts like luxurious silk dresses, rare jewels, and exotic fragrances used to be enough to maintain your compliance. Were his gifts no longer sufficient to appease you? What more did you desire from him? 

Love? 

How preposterous. Love was no gift.

The emperor cussed under his breath as he slid the robe off his shoulder and stepped inside the tub, soaking his naked body under the warm fragrant water. He raked his fingers through his wet, white hair, leaning his head back as he stared at the ceiling. It never occurred to him that his eyebrows had furrowed as his thoughts of you had consumed him. A small part of him yearned to punish you for your recent behavior, while a larger part of him longed to pursue you. He desired to regain your trust and devotion, no matter how absurd it might seem to others. How else could he manipulate someone who harbored such animosity towards him? You had been easier to control when you saw him past his selfishness, turning a blind eye as long as he played the role of the loyal husband.

Fine, if it was disloyalty that enraged you so, then he would show you. In another way. That the loyalty you seek still possessed him somewhere. 

The subject of his plan stood in his privy chamber, assisting him as he bathed that morning. He had long noticed this particular servant’s subtle attempts at seducing him, but had always chosen to ignore her as he never felt tempted to indulge. Instead, he found it somewhat amusing that she would willingly display her body to him in private settings like this. Perhaps, he mused, it was a message to him, indicating her desire to ascend to high society by becoming his concubine. She likely sought to escape her life as a mere peasant and elevate herself to the status of a noble lady. She may have even heard of his sexual escapades back then as a wayward prince who entertained different ladies in his chamber before he married you. That was probably why she wanted to take advantage of the carnal weakness that she thought still lingered within him. 

This strumpet. Satoru scoffed inwardly as he watched his personal maid pick up the bottle of lavender oil from the floor. She had purposely unbuttoned the top most part of her attire so that her voluptuous breasts would pop out like two balloons sitting on her chests. Appearance wise, it was clear that she had tried to put on cheap rouge from vermillion or beetroot juice, tinting her lips a brighter red than usual to complement her fiery, ginger hair. Her eyes were lined sharp from the soot, as though she was trying to resemble the empress’ seductive eyes. 

“Your Majesty,” she spoke in a seductive voice, finding her seat at the edge of the tub as she poured the fragrant oil on the hot water. She raised her skirt higher as an obvious attempt to show off her legs, and offered a better view of her huge breasts as she leaned forward. Now that she was closer to him, he could see her taut nipples peeking behind her thin layer of clothing. “Do you wish for me to bathe you?”

His lips may have curled upwards into a smirk, but his eyes were as terrifyingly sharp as ever. “Do you want to die?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, feigning her innocence as she received his warning. “No, Your Majesty! I do not wish so.” 

“Why do you presume your body to be more desirable than the empress’s?” he challenged, aiming to deflate her pride and turn her foolishness to his advantage. She would serve as the perfect pawn to regain his wife’s favor. “My wife has the most flawless figure I have seen in a woman, and yours is what? Do you boast of your breasts that resemble a cow’s?”

“I…” The servant stammered, clearly offended as she got up from her seat and attempted to mask the embarrassment that appeared on her face. Satoru raised an eyebrow and waited for her response, while she gathered her courage to deny his claims. “Forgive me, my lord, if I have offended you.” 

Satoru shook his head in amusement. “What is your aim, then, if not to manipulate me into bedding you? I do not associate with trollops.”

Caught red-handed, she stumbled and bowed her head at the lowest possible level before him. “I beg your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty! I merely sought to assist you in the birthing of an heir. I am not barren like Her Majesty the Empress, and I can assure you I will bear fruit even if you only do me once.” 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, stepping out of the tub and wrapping his bare body with a robe. “Are you certain of that?”

Her eyes pleaded for desperation to become his mistress. “Certain, yes! I am certain, my lord! And I will be a loyal subject to you unlike the empress—”

“Pardon?” As if her words intrigued his ears. In a swift motion, he turned to the servant and looked down at her with his cold, scrutinizing eyes. “Unlike the empress? Repeat your words with caution. You are maligning the most noble woman of this empire.” 

It did look like she found her way out of his criticism by directing his ill-temper towards his wife. “Your Majesty, I do not mean to slander your wife. However, it is true that Her Majesty is engaged in an affair with your commander of knights! I saw the empress and Sir Suguru in an intimate embrace some days ago, hurrying through the halls as if they did not wish to be seen!” 

The emperor’s expression hardened at the servant’s accusation, his brows furrowing with disbelief and anger. His hand tightened into a fist as he processed the shocking revelation.

“Are you telling the truth?” His voice was low, carrying a dangerous edge that hinted at the storm brewing within him. The accusation struck at the very core of his trust and authority.

The servant's gaze faltered under the weight of the emperor's scrutiny, but she remained resolute. “Your Majesty, I speak only of what I have witnessed with my own eyes. By my oath and by the sanctity of God, I swear upon all that is sacred, it is no lie.”

Satoru’s mind raced with conflicting emotions, but he showed none of his inward thoughts outwardly. Instead, he delighted in this ideal opportunity for him to deal with gaining your devotion again. 

“Undress yourself. I want you bare and without any clothing,” he said, his voice cold and measured, “And you shall remain in this chamber until my return.”

With that, the emperor swept out of the privy chamber at once, leaving behind a stunned and apprehensive servant. She believed it to be her sign of good luck. Of good fate. That she now found her place as a mistress to the highest ruler of this nation. She could not believe her destiny as she triumphantly unclothed herself, peeling every fabric off her body with excitement as she imagined the things the emperor would do to her upon his return. She would definitely have to deal with his wrath since he just found out that the empress betrayed her, but she was willing to have him use her body and let his anger out on his adulterous wife. An emperor with a distracted mind would be her ticket to being impregnated by his child. Soon, she would be his concubine, she would be the mother of a future emperor. 

She would never again have to suffer as a servant! 

Upon the sound of footsteps nearing the privy chamber, the servant provocatively sat at the edge of the tub, displaying all of her body to him and him alone. “Your Majesty, I am ready for you.” 

“Are you?” 

Horror washed over the servant’s face, her heartbeat increasing tenfold as she saw the empress sending an icy stare into her as she stood by the privy chamber’s entrance. Behind her were her ladies-in-waiting throwing their judgeful stares at the naked servant, surrounded by knights who seemed to have come under the emperor’s orders. The emperor! There he was, appearing behind the empress, kissing her cheek and encircling her waist, whispering to her that the servant had attempted to seduce him and had even accused his wife of infidelity. Satoru’s actions struck the servant as reminiscent of a child tattling to his mother. He adopted an air of artificial innocence, as if his only intention were to win the empress’s trust.

“Send this harlot to the throne room,” he commanded his knights, his voice loud and clear. “Let it be known that there will be consequences for those who dare to deceive their emperor.”

At the throne room, you found yourself seated at the elevated throne next to your husband. This was a place in the castle where the trials of the accused were often held, and now the accused kneeling before you on the lower part of the hall was a lowly maid which Satoru had claimed to have seduced him and besmirched your name. 

Did he think you were stupid? You knew what his ulterior motives were. You were aware of his covert schemes, and that his sole attempt at orchestrating this entire spectacle was to use the maid to regain your trust and obedience out of gratitude. He was clearly at an unrest ever since you had been defiant to him and he was doing the best that he could to make you submit to him. He was desperate to show you that he was on your side, believing that by reporting the maid’s advances, he could convince you of his loyalty. Satoru must truly underestimate your intelligence if he thought that such acts would restore his control over you. But for the sake of a good show, you decided to play along. 

As customary, the emperor presided over the trial, while the accused maid stood before the imperialty, her eyes downcast, while whispers could be heard through the assembled courtiers.

Satoru announced her sin in a commanding yet measured voice. “Maiden, you stand accused of attempting to seduce the sovereign and spreading slanderous falsehoods regarding Her Majesty’s honor. These are grave charges that strike at the very foundation of our empire.” 

The accused maid trembled slightly but remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. She seemed to be having a battle in her head, realizing that she was being used by the emperor’s cruel game. What did she expect of him? You rolled your eyes. Satoru was a known tyrant. She would never last a day being his mistress, much less a concubine. You were the only lady in this empire that could handle him.

The emperor then turned to you as he continued with his speech. “As for you, my wife, you have been accused of a betrayal that, if true, would bring shame upon the imperial family.” He paused, his expression grave yet contemplative. “Therefore, I shall leave the judgment and punishment of this matter in your hands. Only you know the truth of these accusations, and it is your virtue and integrity that will determine our course of justice.”

You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was. Now he was even entrusting the maid’s punishment to you? His tactic obviously consisted of two things: 1) giving you the authority to impose punishment on the accused would make you liable for the consequences tied to the matter 2) if proven not guilty, you would have to face the shame of your misguided punishment. Because Satoru was not certain that you were having an affair, he was putting you on the spot to decide the punishment you would give based on your conscience. 

Either that or he may have simply intended to convey trust in your judgment by allowing you to administer punishment. This could be a gesture aimed at restoring your sense of authority and influence within the palace. However, given the complexities of your relationship and the context of the situation, it was likely that his motives were more layered and multifaceted.

“How do you feel about it, Empress?” Satoru asked, his demeanor strangely calm. “Perhaps we could administer ten or twenty lashes? Or have her confined to the dungeons?”

Oh, did he assume you were not capable of being creative with punishments? You were not one to shy away from brutality like him. In fact, you had something better in store for this servant of his. 

The courtiers listened intently, their eyes locked upon you as you spoke. “It is my judgment that the maid shall be subjected to the punishment befitting her transgressions.”

A hushed murmur erupted through the assembled crowd as they awaited the empress’s decree.

“Firstly, the maid shall be paraded through the streets of our capital, stripped of her garments and bearing the shame of her actions for all to see. Let her walk the path of humility, that she may reflect upon the consequences of her deeds.” Your cruel words carried a weight of overwhelming gravity as you announced the first part of the punishment and proceeded to the next. “Furthermore, the maid shall be delivered unto the custody of our executioners, who shall mete out the final aspect of her punishment. Let her be subjected to the pear of anguish, that she may atone for her sins and serve as a warning to all who would dare besmirch the name of their sovereign.”

The courtiers exchanged somber glances, trembling out of fear at the severity of your inhumane judgment. Even Satoru himself was shocked at the lengths you had chosen to take just to punish a lowly maid. Why was he surprised? He, himself, was entertained at the usage of the brazen bull, roasting his enemies alive as a punishment. The pear of anguish was not even as severe as his usual choices, as its purpose was to have a pear-shaped instrument be inserted in the maid’s vagina, and expand it to the point of internal injuries and mutilation. 

“No! No! Your Majesty!” she cried, her words choked with emotion. She quivered in terror and fell to her knees. “I implore you, have mercy on me! Spare me from such unspeakable agony! Forgive me for my transgressions and the harm I have caused. Please, grant me the chance to repent and seek forgiveness. I shall never again show myself to you. I beg of you, Empress Y/N, spare me from this horror!”

Her voice echoed through the hall with her desperate plea for clemency amidst the shadow of her impending doom. In the silence that followed, your eyes caught the guilt spreading on Satoru’s face. His blue eyes were, for a second, wide and horrified. But he was quick to compose himself and keep yet again a rigid face. 

“Very well.” Satoru gestured to his knights to take the maid away. “Do as my wife says.” 

“My liege, this is preposterous!” In the midst of the tense atmosphere, one advisor, a voice of dissent, stepped forward, his expression grave and his tone measured. Lord Maximilian was only intending to address the emperor, completely ignoring your right as the empress. “Your Majesty, the Emperor,” the advisor spoke respectfully but with conviction, “I humbly beseech you to reconsider this severe course of action. The pear of anguish, in particular, is a device of unparalleled cruelty. The punishment is more severe than the crime committed!” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I propose a more measured punishment, one that upholds the dignity of your sovereign without plunging us into the depths of brutality. Perhaps a period of confinement or hard labor could serve as a more merciful yet effective means of retribution. This way, Your Majesty, we demonstrate both strength and compassion that define thy sovereign rule.”

“Compassion?” you scoffed, humored by Lord Maximilian’s little speech. His pretentiousness was truly out of this world. He was obviously against it because he refused to see your authority over the court restored. He had not even a single idea that you were already aware that he had been conspiring with your husband to execute you. “You speak of compassion and mercy, Lord Maximilian, when this empire had seen the ruthless perish of a thousand Christian souls under your counsel to the emperor. Is that not ironic? What about the fate of his lordship, Count Stefano, whom you ordered to be skinned alive? And what of the men whose corpses were speared on pikes by the Tiber River? Now, tell me about that compassion.” 

Satoru, stuck in the situation, scanned the throne room and searched for his voice of reason. The man who always stood his ground between good and evil. Lord Nanami. Yet the man was nowhere to be found. “Is Lord Nanami present? Summon him to me.” 

“I am afraid not, my liege,” spoke one of the courtiers, “He had left Your Majesty a letter advising of his immediate need to be on a sabbatical. He cited no reasons as to why.”

“Is that so?” your husband’s face contorted into confusion, while you were exchanging glances with Suguru, who seemed slightly aware of your participation in Nanami’s sudden absence. However, he spoke no words about it. 

And no one else also said another word, therefore, leaving Satoru to move forward with your decision on the punishment. If he was smart, he should see that your decision was not just a mere punishment to the maid but as a warning from you, that he was not the only person in this empire capable of being a tyrant. That you, as devoted as you used to be, could also be cruel if you wanted to be. 

You ignored the maid’s screams of terror as the knights took her away. You kept a dignified appearance and walked out of the throne room, followed by your ladies-in-waiting as they engaged in gossip about the maid and how she had always spoken badly of the empress. You wished you cared, but truthfully, you were far too nauseated as you walked through the hallway heading towards the western wing of the castle, hearing your husband’s voice calling your name. 

What did he need? Your gratitude? Your declaration of love? Your pledge of allegiance? 

Frankly, you cared none, as your extreme nausea eventually had your visions blurred, and your body fainting on the marble floor. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT IX

Your head ached.

By the time you opened your eyes again, it was already past noon. No, it was evening, was it? You were lying in Satoru’s bed while its owner was engrossed in a conversation with a physician. You briefly recounted the events before you were carried here, remembering the trial at the throne room, and how you fainted while walking back to your side of the palace. 

“Are you certain?” 

“I am certain Her Majesty is with child, yes.” 

“How is that possible? We have tried for eight long years.” 

“We owe this blessing to God, my liege. Your desire for an heir has been granted.” 

You were… with child? 

You could not believe it. As the whispered revelation reached your ears, the news brought you a swirl of emotions, for the delicate life growing within your womb just challenged the very foundations of your plans. A child. A baby. A life was growing inside of you! It was not just any other life, but an heir to the throne! A byproduct of you and your husband!

But what about your revenge? 

You had a moment of introspection as you imagined yourself at a crossroad of destiny. Should you persist with your plot to topple your husband’s rule, or should you embrace the newfound responsibility and safeguard the legacy that had taken root within you? The precipice of your decision would depend on Satoru’s reaction to this matter. Your decision would fall upon his level of trust in you. 

For eight years, you had always wanted to carry his child. You had always dreamed of bearing his heir. This was the very reason why the prophecy existed in the first place, and now that you were pregnant, should that mean that he would no longer find the need to remarry and execute you? Should that mean that the prophecy was false after all? The oracle was a heretic through and through and he never should have consulted with her to begin with.

“My wife.” The gentle caress of Satoru’s voice soothed your aching head. It only took you then to realize that the physician had already left you two alone, and now your husband was sitting on the edge of his bed, touching your cheek. “To think,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with wonder, “that our union has borne fruit at last. Now, we have an heir to carry my legacy.” 

He was joyous. He was surging with happiness which was glowing within him, the kind of joy that you had never seen before as he embraced his beloved wife and shared the news. For a moment, your heart melted and you were ready to forsake the grudge you carried in your heart as he proved his reaction to be genuine. His eyes sparkled like jewels as he placed a soft kiss on your belly, then moving to press his lips onto yours. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to tear up as never in your life had you received this much level of affection from your own husband. He had never looked at you with such adoration and respect for the longest time since he had been with you. No, this was the very first time he had truly acknowledged you as his wife. 

“Am I no longer useless to your eyes?” you asked, carrying a hint of sadness on your tone despite smiling at him. “Will I no longer bear the title of a barren empress?” 

Satoru solemnly shook his head and kissed your hand, your cheek, and your lips. “No. Each tongue that rises against my wife shall fall.” 

You were uncertain whether it was you or him who pulled each other for an embrace, but the gravity that brought you to two together was of mutual force. He held you in his arms tenderly just as you enveloped yourself in his warmth. So this is how it feels like to be loved? You were in complete bliss. You were free from the emotional torment that—

Knock, knock! 

The abrupt knock on the door interrupted the intimate moment between you and your husband, diverting his attention to the intruder who dared disrupt the special moment. Satoru, no doubt, was already thinking of potential punishments in his mind as he summoned his attendant to enter. The attendant conveyed that a knight sought an urgent audience with him, but what could be so urgent at this dead of night? 

The intruder, to your surprise, was none other than his knight commander, Suguru. 

“Suguru?” Satoru faced him with a more lenient countenance, “Speak briefly.” 

The knight commander glanced at you before he knelt on one knee and looked at the carpeted floor, delivering a message that required urgent and utmost attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, we have discovered a group of knights clad in silver armor, mounted upon war horses lining the city’s border. My men have identified the potential invaders as the Aurorae Heavy Cavalry of the Astheryn Empire.” 

“What?!” Just like Satoru’s explosive reaction, you were also surprised by the news. You knew Astheryn was ready for war, but you did not expect them to move so rashly. Satoru knew he was right to conduct a military inspection a week prior, because now, in spite of his growing temperament, he was also mentally prepared for an all-out war. “Those Astheryn bastards! How many are they?!” 

“Estimated at about 1000 units, my liege.” 

Your eyes widened in disbelief. A thousand foreign soldiers stationed at the border of the Caelum Empire was undeniably an invasion. The audacity of this act, carried out without any prior communication to Satoru, no wonder fueled his anger like a volcano on the brink of eruption. It was a blatant disrespect to him as an emperor and to his lands as an empire.

“Double the numbers of our infantrymen and dispatch them to the border!” Satoru’s voice carried a low growl, his hand instinctively reaching to massage his temples as he pondered a course of action. “They must comprise our most elite unit. I demand these men be vigilant and alert at all times. Anyone caught sleeping will have their eyes gouged,” he ordered, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation. His eyes held fury in them as he silently paced back and forth in his chamber. However, just as Suguru made to depart, Satoru’s hand halted him mid-step. “Better yet, remain here and stand guard over my wife,” he commanded, his voice taut with resolve. “I will issue the orders to the army personally and confer with my chief tactician.”

Your husband had already left before you could even stop him. His presence, in a mere blink of an eye, was gone as he stormed out of the chamber, yelling out, “That bastard Toji will die by my hands. How dare he!” 

And now you were left with his commander of knights, Suguru, who looked at you in concern as you made an attempt to get out of bed. He was quick to catch you in his arms, guiding you to walk carefully. “Is it true?” you asked, face inches close to him. You could feel his hand on your waist, and the other guiding your arm. “Astheryn’s invasion?” 

“Empress, it is of utmost importance that you remain within the safety of His Majesty’s chamber," Suguru advised, his fox-like eyes seemingly enamored by your face. “Your well-being is paramount, particularly at this moment. I understand now why you have been looking so radiant.”

You smiled at his words. "And what might you be implying by that?"

“That our beautiful empress bears the heir to the empire,” he spoke softly. “This is a direct contradiction to the prophecy. Are you happy, my lady?”

As you nodded, you felt Suguru placing a gentle kiss above your hand, still kneeling before you like a true, loyal knight. He looked at you with a gaze filled with the desire to protect. His chivalry was evident in his demeanor toward you, the most beautiful lady of the empire. Unbeknownst to you, Suguru had long been captivated by your beauty. From the moment he first came to your family’s estate to train as a knight, he harbored a wanton desire for you. Yet, he struggled with his feelings, torn between his admiration for you and his loyalty to Satoru, his friend and lord. How could he? He should punish himself for having a mere attraction to the emperor’s wife. 

“Suguru, I expect you to be loyal to me until the very end,” you interrupted his reverie, bringing him back to the present. “Can I count on that from you?”

Before the knight could respond, a fit of unhinged laughter echoed through the chamber. There, your crazed husband walked in, his sardonically joyful eyes wide with paranoia. “Ha ha ha! Absurd! Utterly preposterous!” His loud voice reverberated through the walls, his mind now free of the on-going invasion and was instead evidently consumed by the scene before him. “My wife, you jest, surely? Suguru, tell me this is some jest! Loyalty, indeed, I have full faith in your loyalty, but this... the maid’s accusation. It is true after all?!” 

Immediately, the knight commander moved away from you and scrambled to kneel down at the furious emperor. You yourself could not hide your growing anxiety, but it was best to keep calm and explain the situation to your husband properly. 

“My liege, it is not what you think,” Suguru swore to your husband, who was now laughing maniacally. 

“Ah, so you two conspired!” Satoru’s eyes darted between you and his friend. “I see it now, the hidden plots, the whispers in the shadows. My wife and my loyal knight, plotting against me. Speak, reveal the treachery!” 

You shook your head, maintaining your composure. “He is telling the truth. There is no affair—”

“Silence, you wicked bitch!” By this time, Satoru was throwing a tantrum, kicking the nearby console table and throwing the first vase he saw. 

Suguru rose, his voice pleading, "Your Majesty, I..."

“Get out or I will eviscerate you in front of her!” Satoru’s words cut through the tension, and Suguru, after a moment of hesitation, took a deep breath and left, casting a worried glance at you before exiting. It was clear that Satoru was in a state of manic denial, with his laughter echoing through the chamber like a haunting refrain.

Alone with him now, you observed his demeanor, noting the same scene of past trauma in his laughter. It was reminiscent of the night his sister perished for committing suicide—a portrait of a man on the brink of madness, masking his torment with deranged laughter. Each step he took towards you carried danger. “This... This child you carry is a bastard, isn’t it? That child is not mine!”

You shot him a look of disbelief, refusing to entertain such absurd accusations. “You are talking nonsense!”

Enraged, he seized another vase and hurled it across the room, the sound of shattering porcelain ringing through the chamber, though you maintained your composure despite the sudden chaos. You must not act weak in front of a tyrant. At this rate, he could kill out of impulse, but you were careful not to pull the trigger.

“My wife thinks I am lost in a mire of absurdity?” Satoru’s laugh rang in your ears again. “Conniving bitch! Tell me, what am I to do with this wretched child you carry? Shall I slice open your belly and rip it out myself?”

Slap! A resounding slap, sharp and clear, graced Satoru’s cheek as his words drew tears from your eyes. Despite the welling tears, you mustered enough courage to respond. “If you question the lineage of this child, is that not a questioning of your own fertility? Do you deem yourself barren, unable to sire your own bloodline? If so, you have long scorned me for lacking an heir, yet now you cast doubt upon the child that I carry. Useless, you have called me. Now, useless, you call yourself! A barren emperor, unable to secure his own legacy. Is that what you perceive yourself to be?”

“Hold that tongue, you impudent wench!” With a rough hand, he grabbed your arm and tightened his hold so much so that it would leave bruises. “Here I stand, grappling with a war that has the power to shape or shatter my own legacy, while my own wife wanders about like a wanton whore?”

A whore? You laughed, as equally maniacal as him. No, a lot worse than him. How foolish of you to think that your husband was someone you could trust your life with? You could not believe that you almost let your guard down in front of him after you learned that you were carrying his child. Yet here he was, spouting nonsense like an absolute fool. He only judged what he saw, not analyzed what he was yet to know. This was exactly why Emperor Toji would always be a smarter ruler than him. 

“I am your wife, and I have stood by your side through thick and thin. I have shared your lows and highs. I have seated you at that very throne! Therefore, I will not dignify such insults with a response.” Each word left your mouth with gritted teeth. This was your future, peeled off for your eyes to see. No matter how much you cared for him, no matter how loyal you were to him, no matter how much love you offered to him; you were nothing but a woman ready to be thrown at his disposal. It hurt. Truly, it hurt. And because you loved him, you tried holding onto the thin string of hope that he was true to you. That even if he could not love you, he still trusted you. That was the foundation of your relationship from the beginning. Trust. And that will be your ultimatum to him. So, with a shaky voice and tearful eyes, you asked, “I require nothing else from you but this… do you even trust me?” 

His answer was a make or break. 

His answer would determine whether you would carry your plans out or not. 

Because if he said yes, then you would forsake everything and be loyal to him without his unconditional love. 

But if he said no, then there was no point at being his wife when your role would always be easily replaced. 

Satoru’s stolid mien was an answer in itself, because his blank gaze and unsympathetic expression sent your heart to the ninth circle of hell. “No,” he declared, “I never have and never will.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT X

Four days. 

Or perhaps five? 

The days blurred into an indistinguishable haze since your husband’s decree consigned you to the confines of the west tower. Unlike the dungeon, reserved for commoners and lower ranks, the western tower housed nobility and imperial captives. Though superior in amenities, it remained a prison in essence. There was only a solitary window within the cell that offered a scant glimpse of the world beyond. The view was barely within your reach as it was too high up for you to be able to see outside. 

You were treated no less than a rebel. Accused of treason. Accused of infidelity. Your reputation as an empress was tarnished, excluded from social circles, excommunicated by the church—at least, these were some of the things you have heard from the passerby, the attendants who do their nightly rounds in the west tower. The attendants and guards themselves no longer respected you, although you could still sense that they were cautious around you. Afraid that if the emperor were to change his mind and release you, that you would remember their faces and get back at them with brutal repercussions. 

It was entertaining, truly. It was even more humorous to watch the attendant serve you with soup and bread day and night. Judging by the distinct odor, the soup was laced with arsenic. Someone was definitely trying to poison you, but you were certain that it was not orchestrated by Satoru. Not him. He was too stupid to conjure such a plan as it also contradicted his penchant for more direct and violent approaches. If he wanted to assassinate someone, he would rather crack their skulls or slash them in half. He was too bloodthirsty to kill someone by means of poison. 

So that left you with one person: Lord Maximilian. 

Your father, the Grand Duke, promptly sent you a letter after hearing that you were locked up in the west tower, assuring you of his efforts to persuade Satoru to release you and clear your name, demanding your innocence be proved to the empire. He also cautioned that it might be a considerable amount of time before your husband could address your case, given the pressing matter of the Astherean army’s invasion on Caelum’s borders. In your head, you knew Satoru was having a hard time dealing with the military conflict without your counsel. It was your mind that staged the coup, leading him to his succession ten years ago. Now, without you, he was faced with difficulty. He did not even have Nanami by his side to guide him through the war. 

You laughed. Good for him. 

On the seventh day, your father wrote again. This time, he informed you that there was a ceasefire between Caelum and Astheryn. Apparently, Caelum was struck by the bubonic plague. Astheryn withdrew its cavalry out of fear of losing their soldiers from the Black Death, while Caleans were left to suffer from the spreading disease. The citizens were going mad, panic was ensuing, and there was food shortage everywhere. No one knew what the cause was nor how to cure it. He said those who had caught the disease would fall to their deaths in a matter of days. 

You laughed again. That is my own doing, father. 

Three days later, another missive arrived from the Grand Duke, informing you of his recent audience with Satoru. Your father let you know that the Emperor still held a lingering wrath towards you, but he confirmed that your trial would be scheduled shortly. The letter also conveyed unsettling rumors of your potential deposition, suggesting that Satoru entertained matrimonial negotiations with Princess Katarina from the Kingdom of Ellesmere.

You laughed even more. A remarriage, just as he wanted. 

On the fourteenth day, your father did not write. He visited you on the western tower himself, somberly informing you of Suguru’s demise. He revealed that the knight commander had been thrown in the dungeon on the same day you were taken to the west tower, but he was treated more harshly. He was tortured, mentally and physically, until he met a gruesome death. Your father chose to spare you of the details of Suguru’s tragic fate. 

At that, you could not laugh. No, in fact, you cried silently in your cell that night knowing that an innocent man died ruthlessly because of you. 

What a hypocrite you were! 

The burden of introducing the Great Plague to Caelum, resulting in the deaths of countless innocent citizens, rested on your shoulders. Yet, your moral boundary seemed to be drawn at Suguru’s demise?

You found yourself engulfed in laughter once more, disregarding the puzzled stares from attendants and guards alike. They may have deemed you mad, yet perhaps, madness was the only sane response to the chaos of this world. Why? What was there to be ashamed of? Life was but a game of strategy, a grand chessboard where the king, though less agile than the queen, would always be the last man standing.

Seated in a corner that night, your laughter mingled with tears, a mix of raw emotions unleashed, as the echo of approaching footsteps reached your ears. The flickering torchlight casted a shadow upon the wall, revealing the silhouette of a tall man escorted by two knights.

“Y/N.” 

When Satoru visited you on the eve of your trial, you never expected him to call your name so tenderly. What you were anticipating was his usual torrent of anger and scorn, and you found yourself bewildered by the odd shift in his demeanor. He then entered your cell and crouched before you, his blue eyes seemed almost softened by sympathy.

“Your trial is scheduled for tomorrow,” he spoke deliberately, though you avoided meeting his gaze. “I have a proposal for you.”

You remained silent.

“Even if you have betrayed me, I will extend mercy to you out of gratitude for aiding my ascension to the throne.” The irony of his words were a slap to your face, hurting your ears as you listened. “I require you to step down from your throne with humility, dispose of the bastard you carry, and live a modest, solitary life in the countryside. An estate awaits you there. You will live quietly and await my visits. You will remain my mistress, though it will not be officially acknowledged.” 

As the emperor’s words were spoken, the empress’s laughter erupted with a wild and bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. Your eyes blazed with defiance, lips curled into a scornful sneer.

“Ha ha ha!” 

Satoru’s lips tightened a fraction, his body turning into solid ice as you let out an ear splitting horselaugh. 

“Ha ha ha ha!” 

His eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Empress!” 

“Fool!” you spat, your voice laced with derision. “You think to offer me mercy while chaining me to a life of servitude? You speak of gratitude while stripping me of dignity and autonomy. Your offer is just another prison, a way to keep me as your pawn!” Your laughter turned into a manic fervor, fueled by rage and disillusionment. “I will not bend to your will, nor will I accept your false benevolence.” 

In the end, Satoru was still a hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic, foolish man. 

“Are you aware of your current standing?!” He was livid. Oh, he certainly was. 

Yet you? You smiled. You offered him a beautiful, sarcastic smile. “No soul in this empire will love you except for me! All are foes to you, except for me! I alone have loved you for you. Think about that, my misguided husband, for in your quest for power, you have forsaken the one who loved you sincerely.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT XI

“We gather today for a matter of great import: the trial of Her Majesty, the Empress, accused of treasonous infidelity.”

As the trial went on, your thoughts drifted back to the day of the maid’s trial. Then, she knelt beneath the throne, facing the scrutiny of the court as she protested her innocence and pleaded for mercy. You, once seated upon the now-vacant throne, regarded her with detached interest. The irony of the reversal was not lost on you. It was true that you would pay the price of your wrongdoings, and be rewarded for your kind deeds. In this life, you let your greed get the best of you. You let your love for Satoru blind you. If you were ever to be reborn, you vowed to never again allow yourself to be ensnared by such folly for it led you to nowhere but misery.

How funny is that? These nobles were all here to watch your trial, while a war and plague were happening outside of the castle’s walls. 

“—may our deliberations be guided by the righteous light of truth. Empress Y/N, you appear to be in jest. This trial is a serious matter to thee.” 

You received the courtier’s look of disapproval, while the others were judging your sanity. 

“Let her be,” ordered Satoru, who looked tired and resigned. You could hear his sigh even if he was a couple meters away, and his eyes glowed in sad blues as he stared at you, as if it would be the last time he would ever see your face. 

Perhaps that truly was the case, and you made no effort to fight against it nor did you appeal to prove your innocence. There was no mercy begged for, no forgiveness sought for. It was because you saw no purpose to live this life. He must have sensed your true feelings inside as he watched you from afar, but Satoru still seemed like he was looking for a way to get you out of the situation. Instead of imposing a tyrannous punishment on you, he was clearly attempting to make you innocent. To give you a benefit of the doubt. All of the courtiers and advisors, however, were in complete disagreement. They knew that the emperor held a soft spot for you, but they did not know that his only purpose was to keep using you. 

Honestly? Your mind was growing weary. The trial dragged on endlessly as Satoru struggled to mitigate your punishment. Not until…

“His Majesty, Emperor Satoru, has been consulting with an oracle,” you declared, silencing the entire hall with your revelation, “He keeps the old lady hidden deep in the dungeon. Do you all hear me? The emperor of this nation is involved in heresy and must face an inquisition!” 

Your accusations, indeed, were grave. An eerie and portentous air filled the throne room as Satoru himself was stunned and wide-eyed. Surprise contorted his features after he was exposed. His lips quivered and his jaw muscles tightened, and anger soon smoldered all semblance of composure on his saintly face. 

Caelum was a deeply Catholic nation and the Catholic Church, as an institution, did not endorse or recognize oracles as legitimate sources of divine revelation. Practices associated with oracles, such as divination, fortune-telling, and consulting spirits, as forms of superstition were heretical. These practices were considered as attempts to circumvent the authority of the Church and seek guidance from sources outside of the orthodox Christian belief.

Individuals suspected of engaging in practices associated with oracles, particularly if those practices were perceived as challenging the Church authority or promoting beliefs contrary to Catholic doctrine, could be subject to investigation, trial, and punishment by ecclesiastical authorities, even if they were members of the imperial family. 

Thus, in your revelation, Satoru was now subjected to a much more serious, unforgivable crime than you. Because he would be at war with the Church. 

And not only would he be at war with the Church, but also with Astheryn, and the Great Plague all at once. 

Of course, Satoru intensely denied it and tried to turn things around on you. He was going haywire as your ‘accusation’ caused a commotion amongst the courtiers who whispered and murmured in shock and disbelief. As the emperor, his voice held the greatest authority in that hall, and so he became furious at you, claiming to everyone that you were diverting the situation to seem innocent, denying the existence of an oracle in his castle, and that you were to be publicly executed for the crime of commiting lèse-majesté by slandering the emperor’s name. 

Finally, the tyrant was back. 

You were sick of his sympathetic gazes. 

If your husband knew you by heart, then he would know that your sole intention at declaring his fortnightly consultations with the oracle was because you wanted to anger him, and in turn, get a punishment that would be enough to free yourself from his grasp. That was the perfect approach. 

But of course, Satoru might be slow in that department. All he could see right now was a traitorous wife whose malicious intent was to undermine his authority and topple him from the throne. An enemy. That was what you had become to him.

On the day of your public execution, your father cried. And so did your ladies-in-waiting. The rest were eager to see you beheaded, all with keen eyes as you were ushered at the public square, drawing in a large crowd of nobles and commoners alike. 

Who would have guessed that you held such notoriety?

The words, “witch!”, “traitor!”, and “evil!” were thrown your way as you were guided by two knights towards the center of the scaffold. With a rosary on one hand, and a bible on the other, you looked at your father. He should be safe. You had written him a letter, telling him to bring the family and the servants to a remote island away from Caelum. As for you, your end was near. 

With your head pressed against the block, and the executioner raising his sword, your impending doom was imminent. The imperial sword he carried, you recognized, was Satoru’s personal and favorite sword. 

“Your head will be severed swiftly,” said the headsman, “Any last words?” 

Your eyes found the sky as your lips curled into a sinister smile. “Citizens of Caelum, I will soon meet your Emperor in hell!” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT XII

A month has passed since your execution. 

Instead of having your decapitated head impaled on spikes atop the city gates, Satoru ordered your corpse be buried at the tomb. The location was not revealed to anyone else. The citizens also did not question his choice. 

The emperor was secretly grieving the loss of his wife. 

Everyone knew. They were all aware that the emperor was mourning over the empress despite her betrayal of him, yet all of them turned a blind-eye on it. They were afraid that the emperor would punish anyone who would remind him of you. 

Was this still not an act of love? 

In fact, no, not everyone knew. Not everyone was aware that one of your lady-in-waiting swore to him in oath that you never had an affair with the knight and that the child you carried was not at all a bastard, but his. It was Satoru’s heir. It was his own child. His own flesh and blood.

Because of his misjudgment and his paranoia, he lost the only woman who truly loved him. 

Now the empire was in shambles. Satoru could not deny that your lack of presence in the castle had a much more devastating impact than the plague that wiped half of Caelum’s population. His advisors were of no use when it came to military tactics. Nanami, the most competent of them all, was nowhere to be found. The soldiers have been struck by the Black Death, lowering his total heavy infantry down to a quarter of its nominal full strength. 

The plague had spread rapidly, causing widespread devastation and food shortage, and as the death toll rose and communities were decimated by the plague, desperation set in. There were villages that had more dead people to collect than living beings who survived. It was a state where all were affected no matter what their noble rankings were. 

People tried various remedies and treatments, often turning to religious practices such as prayer and penance in hopes of appeasing divine wrath and stopping the spread of the disease. Plague doctors also swarmed the streets with their dark canvas robes and beaked masks, implementing quarantine and treating infected individuals. 

Satoru secluded himself in his chamber, both day and night, observing the devastation of his empire from the castle’s highest vantage point. Desperation ran rampant, driving citizens to seek sanctuary within the palace walls. Initially, the emperor permitted entry only to the highest-ranking nobles. However, as word spread of the palace offering refuge, lower-ranking nobles and commoners clamored for entry, prompting Satoru to order the complete fortification of the castle walls.

The stench of burning bodies permeated the air as the castle became besieged by the diseased, seeking entry but met with the fierce flames intended to ward off infection from the emperor and his staff.

“What is the news about the Kingdom of Ellesmere?” Satoru, who had been suffering from high fever, muscle pain, and skin lesions, was accompanied by a state of paranoia as he spoke to Lord Maximilian. “My marriage negotiations with that… that princess. What do they say?” 

“My liege.” He bowed, apologetically. “They no longer wish to proceed. As we are struck by the plague, King Kalleon VI thought it would be of no benefit to be in alliance with a fallen empire. Furthermore, there is something that you must be aware of, Your Majesty.” 

The emperor looked at his advisor.

“The trade ship that caused the plague to spread throughout Caelum was…” the old man paused, wary of the ruler’s reaction, “It was approved entry by the late Empress Y/N.” 

Ha ha ha ha!

How twisted of you, indeed. Where does he go from here? Satoru was sick, genuinely sick, as he heard the clamor of diseased individuals rioting outside the castle walls. Inside the palace, his own people were also engaged in their own chaos. He was at a point where he was too fatigued to react violently at his wife’s crimes. What did Maximilian want him to do, chastise you? You were already gone, and you have left him with the most profound revenge than any punishment he could ever fathom. 

Satoru found himself consumed by a maelstrom of emotions. He was seeing red from his visions, and seeing black from his discolored skin. Gangrene. Buboes. Chills. All he could do now was laugh at his misery. He grappled with the haunting question of how he arrived at this wretched juncture. What deeds, what choices, led him down this harrowing path of suffering and despair? 

Lord Maximilian made one last attempt at coaxing the emperor. “My liege, the prophecy…” 

The mere mention of the prophecy, however, ignited a primal fury within him. His words filled Satoru with a seething rage and he entertained the notion of silencing Maximilian’s voice forever, drawing his sword and executing a swift slash on his advisor’s neck. 

That damned prophecy! 

That, that was what led to all of this! 

In the depths of his suffering, Satoru had experienced the last stretch of the disease entering his body. He was vomiting, crawling on the floor, reaching for the window in hopes of seeing his empire for the last time. But eventually, his weakened body had him submit to his forfeit. 

In a matter of minutes, he would soon find death and earn his place at the ninth circle of hell. 

In a matter of seconds, he would soon be named the most hated emperor in history, just as you like it. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

EPILOGUE

In the aftermath of the plague and the cessation of war, the once-mighty Caelum Empire lay in ruin, its rulers, named the most evil Emperor and Empress in history, overthrown. The remnants of the imperial lineage crumbled under the weight of their tyranny. Rising from the shadows of despair emerged the newly crowned Emperor Yuuta, the only remaining lineal heir of the Gojou lineage, who returned to Caelum with a fervent commitment to restore and rebuild. Known for his fairness and compassion, Yuuta pledged to rebuild the empire, to heal its wounds, and to usher in an era of lasting peace. With each brick laid and each decree issued, he sought to honor the memory of those who perished and to ensure that the horrors of the past would never be repeated. And so, under Yuuta’s steadfast guidance, the Caelum Empire embarked on a journey of restoration, its future brightened by the promise of a new dawn.

[dilatorywriting]

Congratulations on 4K!!!! Here's to many more who discover and fall in love with your incredible prose 🍻

I'd like to request:

86. “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.”

With Prince Stefan (surprise, surprise) if the mood strikes you lmao

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, and for doing this little event!! Can't wait to see what you've cooked up next weekend 👀

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 1.1k

Prompt 86: "We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You’d always joked that Stefan was basically like some fairytale prince come to life. The sweetness that never seemed forced, the genuine kindness and care with which he treated all things. His regal bearing, the fact that he rode a grand, impressive stallion with ease, and—who could forget?—the literal crimson cape hanging over his shoulders like a king of old. The face thing helped too. All sculpted planes of rugged handsome that made you feel like you’d wandered out of a garbage can in a back alleyway in comparison.

But somehow, even then, you hadn’t expected him to be an actual, factual prince. Which was honestly really fucking stupid, all things considered. Seeing as half of your friends at Night Raven had royalty in their blood in some way or other. ‘Prince’ and ‘Lord’ were nearly as common as ‘Mister’ over there. And certainly Royal Sword Academy was meant to be doomed by the same logic as its rival.

“So you’ll be ruling a kingdom someday?” you asked. “Like, crown, and scepter, and ‘my word is law, peasants’ ruling?”

“I guess,” Stefan shrugged, brown bangs flopping shaggily over his eyes. “Though I like to think I won’t be that bad,” he added on a huff that was nearly a pout.

You waved him off. “Sure, sure. You’ll be the one person in history completely untouched by the temptations and corruption of power. But like, an actual prince?”

Another huff, though this one sounded far more amused. The brunette leaned forward to try and snare an arm around your waist and pull you back against his chest. You’d been sitting cuddled up beneath a lovely willow tree, reading in the afternoon sun, when the revelation had hit. And the poor guy looked like he’d sacrifice life and limb to slip back into that cozy silence. But no way were you letting this drop. You wriggled away like a particularly determined worm and settled opposite him criss-cross-applesauce. Hands on your knees and stars in your eyes.

“Do you get access to the dungeons? And cool stuff like that?”

He snorted a laugh into his palm.

“Why do you want to know about the dungeons?”

You shrugged. But honestly, most of your friends at NRC were probably headed for the gulags or worse. It’d be nice to know you had someone on the inside, whenever you inevitably needed to break one of them out. (Floyd was looking like a strong bet. Though he could probably manage to slither out of any jailcell he found himself in all on his own)

“It’d be fun, s’all.”

“Fun,” he chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. “Alright. But yes. I do have access to all the records of imprisonment and things like that. Not that I go down to those places if I can help it.”

“Of course, of course,” you nodded, filing that information away into the back of your brain for a later date. “Can you declare war? Like, whenever you want?”

Another laugh.

“Wars and dungeons?” he asked, and narrowed his hazel eyes in faux suspicion. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure,” he hummed, and ducked forward to try and snatch you up again. You rolled onto your back outright and through the grass—coming to a stop at the roots of the grand tree.

“And what about the rest of the royal stuff?” you continued. “Surely you must be engaged then, right? To another prince or princess out there?”

The pleasant gleam in his eyes dimmed, and you watched his gaze dart away. Heavy and uncomfortable. Which—

Oh.

He… he totally was, wasn’t he?

Something twisted in your gut—sour and sharp. And you regretted ever asking in the first place. Because of course someone as wonderful as Stefan was meant for someone else. And always had been. The dalliance with a little mortal from another world was just that—something fun, and easy, and destined to end by the summer. You swallowed past the building lump in your throat and decided that maybe this hadn’t been a great topic to push after all. You looked back up, ready to crawl back into his lap and ever so tactfully immediately change the subject, when Stefan met your low gaze with fire in his eyes. He reached out and clasped your hands tightly in his.

“I’m going to marry who I want,” he declared, firm, and loud enough it had your ears ringing. He gentled the volume a bit before continuing. “That stuff’s all ancient protocol, anyways. Time to move on, y’know? Modernize.”

“Modernize,” you parroted, feeling a bit thrown by his sudden ferocity.

“And if my father gets upset…” he mumbled, brow pinching in the middle. “Well, we can just run away then. Live in a cottage in the forest. Or, well, something like that.”

“We?” you gaped. Because holy hell. It was one thing for there maybe to be some subtle implications thrown around. But that wasn’t—that was pretty—ah—

“We,” he smiled, warm as mulled wine. And at your wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression, he eased that grin back into something lighter. More teasing. “What do you think? We could be like the forbidden lovers in all those stories!” he crooned, waving his arm through the air like he was at the start of telling some grand tale in a tavern. “An epic novel of our own creation! Like Romeo and Juliet!”

That jolted you out of whatever ‘ohmygod, ohmygod’ spiral had taken over your brain. “Really? Romeo and Juliet?”

“Well,” he grinned, sheepish. “Without the ending, I hope.”

“There are so many better love stories without the suicide pact!” you complained. “Pride and Prejudice. Midsummer’s Night Dream. The Princess Bride. Fucking, Scott Pilgrim even—”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get it! No more literary metaphors from me.”

Stefan leaned back against the tree, looking loose limbed and comfortable. And this time, when he opened his arms to you with a little eyebrow waggle, you sighed and curled up tight into the little, personal nook he was offering.

“But it does have it’s appeal, doesn’t it?” he mumbled into your hair. Sounding a bit far away. “Just running away together. No more responsibilities, no expectations…” he trailed off, eyelids drooping. “It’d be nice.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting the sun play across your laps and his fingers twine through yours. And then—

“Anastasia.”

“Hmm?” he mused, lifting his head from your shoulder.

“We can be like Anastasia,” you said, fighting the heat rising along your cheeks and towards the tips of your ears. But you were pretty sure he could feel it, with how close he was tucked up against your side. “Not a perfect ending, but a perfect beginning,” you quoted, feeling a bit silly.

But Stefan just smiled against your shoulder with a contented little sigh.

“A perfect beginning, huh?” he repeated, sounding far, far too warm. “That sounds about right.”

.

.

[xuchiya]

cafe ma chérie {j.wooyoung}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans is your personal kryptonite, if this becomes a perfume, you would non stop spraying it on your home. It held the promise of a productive morning, a comforting afternoon pick-me-up, or a late-night study session fueled by caffeine and dreams. You decided to read your book outside your crowded apartment, it was kind of suffocating to be inside all the time and you thought maybe a coffee shop could be a new place for you to finish your book.

Cafe Love, a haven tucked away on a bustling side street, is your refuge from a particularly disastrous blind date just this morning. Your aunt was really push-y in terms of you marrying a person or just wanting to set you up in general to have you learn the “real” world of your fantasy. The man, a self-proclaimed "romance novelist", had regaled you with tales of his inflatable unicorn collection and the company that he is working at oh-so hated with all the fiber of his body.

Needless to say, love was not in the air, just the lingering scent of desperation. It was something you do not look forward to hence remembering.

Pushing open the cafe door, you were met with a symphony of sounds – the gentle hum of the espresso machine, the rhythmic clinking of spoons against mugs, and the soft murmur of conversation, you approach the cashier, greeting your older brother— “Hey Min~”

He looked up from the cups he was writing, “Oh hey sis, how are you doing? How’s the date?” Your smile drops and your eyes circle out of annoyance, just remembering what happened sent shivers down your spine. Mingi saw your reaction and laughed gently, “Based on your reaction, it did not go well.” You nodded, “Generation gap is something Aunty forgot sometimes.”

Mingi chuckles, shaking his head, “You sit down, I’ll let Wooyoung prepare your drink.” You thank him quietly after paying before moving towards the bar in the barista area.

As you sat down on one of the high chairs, “What is the love this time … “ You mumble, your butt taking a seat clumsily on the high chair next to another guy, around the same age as you. You notice him, watching with doe eyes at the waitress— that you happen to know the newest staff— whilst he taps on the cup of latte in his hand.

“Don’t worry, he ain’t a creep, just a coward.” Wooyoung openly spoke to you at the same time, teasing the guy beside you. You watch them bicker back and forth, meanwhile your eyes are lingering on Wooyoung. You know him because him and your brother tend to hang out a lot and there was never a day where Wooyoung would never leave you alone.

With a newfound lightness Wooyoung approached you with your drink, “Here you go sweetie, nice and warm cafe for a beautiful juliet.” Your cheeks burned,taking a sip on the latter he made. You hummed at the taste, Wooyoung, who has been observing you, chuckled, “Taste good?” You lick the frosting off your lip.

"Amazing actually.” He nods, grabbing another cup before serving it to another customer. You spun on your seat, the guy beside you noticed your flaring cheeks before laughing to himself, “Looks like we’re in the same situation but different scenario.” You nodded, agreeing on the concept of his stories.

As the closing time is nearing, the guy— Jongho bids you and Wooyoung goodbye— before approaching the girl with a latte. You stay on your seat, watching the whole thing unfold, your heart sky-rocketing as you gaze at their new found love. You smile at their interaction before a voice calls gently, “Cafe love has really done its job to bring people together …” Jongho and the girl left with a big smile on their faces “or maybe not.” Your eyes trailed on a tall man leaving the shop with tears in his eyes, holding a cup of espresso and a hunch figure crying on a table alone.

"You’ve been a witness to every story?" You spoke softly, Wooyoung nodding at your statement, “I have, quite intense …” His eyes trailed on his senior head talking to their manager with a fond look on their eyes, “quite aggressive …” You chuckle when you see your brother’s fiancee raising an eyebrow at a woman, who tempts to flirt with Mingi, “She just loves my brother.”

Wooyoung raises his hands in surrender, “she’s feisty.” You shake your head.

“Quite the cliche one to be honest …” Wooyoung nodding towards the window. You notice the baker’s window and see how a typical yet sweet love story is created as Yeosang bakes with his assistant baker. Then Hongjoong looked at the second senior head—who has a stoic cold face— with so much admiration that he was caught by her and scolded for not focusing, “Quite the aloof one …”

“See you tomorrow Woo!” You heard a deep voice called, you saw Wooyoung waves at the man before disappearing from the frost door, he nodded at the man who left, “Quite the clumsy love story …”

You look at him, admiring how he had taken note of the love story that unfolds in front him. How he had entertained himself with the scenes that are worth a time to read you see on the web, Wooyoung found them a way to learn how love comes in, does and shows.

He wakes up, sees another tale unfold and he waits. He waited again. The one he admires was in love with another and he respects the decision, leaving them to create their story and continue looking for the love story he wishes to read. Yet fate did not fail him.

Meanwhile, you weren’t one to be in a relationship but when you do, you wish it was someone that meets your ideal type yet it seems like someone wants you to suffer for having that ideal or standards to a person. So you gave up searching and let fate do it. You also have been a witness to different scenes of love, bittersweet, cliche ending, unexpected expected ending and few more endings you knew. But love didn’t leave your side.

“Have you found your Romeo?” You were snap out of your thoughts, you glance at Wooyoung. He has a small smile on his lips, inclining towards the book laying on top of the counter. You chuckle, grabbing it and flipping to the chapter where Juliet met Romeo for the first time.

Inside the Capulet Ball, hosting a grand ball meanwhile a Montague sneaks in uninvited with his heart entangled with unrequited love for Rosaline. But as Romeo navigates through the ball, his heart soars when he sees Juliet across the room. Captivated and entranced with her beauty. Juliet saw Romeo and that moment, it was just both of them in the room even if a war were to create between them Love still wins as Romeo approaches Juliet and asks for a kiss to seal a love blooming between them.

You look up from the book cover, a smile on your lips as you gaze on Wooyoung, “I have …” He chuckles moving forward, squinting at you teasingly, “Really? Does he serve coffee well?” You pretend to think about it, “Hmm he does but it lacks something.” Wooyoung’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion, “W-What?” You chuckle, leaning forward, closing the distance between you two. You met his lips on yours, your connection deepens and an unexpected vow was created between you both as your lips move in sync before pulling away.

“Love. You have to put more love on that, chérie.” With a whisk of your wrist, the place slowly dissolves into a different scenery.

From a modern design cafe turns into a cottage look, vines crawling on the walls with a fireplace crackling with a decent amount of fire emitting to make the room warm.

You sigh in relief, looking at your home. Wooyoung walks up to you wrapping his arms around your figure, nuzzling his nose on your neck, “Finally the story is over. My powers can’t keep up with the dazzling light of emotions of these people.”

You chuckle, moving around to place your arms around his broad shoulder, swaying yourselves in a rhythm, “Me too, can’t believe Aunty wanted me to marry that man.” You roll your eyes playfully but it was something you never look forward to. Again. Wooyoung chuckles, “Your Aunt has a taste though but it ain’t your kind of trope.”

“That kind of trope is supposed to cease in the story of a love book!”

"I'll tell Yeosang about it, don't worry."

You watch his eyes twinkle at your tantrum. His heart had beaten again like crazy, just like the way he saw you across the room. Your hair flowing on your shoulders, velvet gown hugs your body and the red cherry lips were mesmerising.

“Chérie, remember our first kiss?” You looked at him and nodded, a fond smile crept up your lips, “It was during a party that you weren’t invited and decided to follow where my chambers were…”

Even with the fiery cousin of yours and the war that your families have with another kingdom never stops your heart from leaping when you see Wooyoung across the room.

“And kiss you on your balcony after speaking about your feelings for me.” He teases you while you smack his head playfully, he chuckles apologising to you with a small kiss on your nose.

But even after a love forbidden and ending it with such a tragic ending, your wish as you take your final breath to find love for you and let fate find Wooyoung back to you is an ending you would never get tired of reading again and again.

And seems like love did not fail you as fate led Wooyoung back to you, "Thank you for building Cafe Love."

You chuckle, playing the back of his hair, "I was given another chance to love and I'll wish fate to bring you back to me and now all I have to do is bring love to people in return."

“I love you Juliet.” 'Wooyoung softly spoke, eyes gleaming with so much emotion. You return the same fond of affection, leaning in to close the gap between you, sealing your love story with the kiss.

“I love you too my Romeo~”

And a happy ending that you both deserve.

THE END

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I really thought that this home was in Italy, but it’s in Fayetteville, Arkansas. $4.6M. Go big or go home, right?

This is amazing.

I still can’t get over how many castle houses there are in the US. Who knew?

They make their own royal families, I guess.

This wood looks so smooth, I just feel like touching it. And, look at that regal fireplace.

Isn’t this cozy?

Juliet balcony right in the house.

Gorgeous kitchen. 

It’s a kitchen/family room combo. Look at the beams.

Watch TV while dinner cooks.

This wood has such a satiny finish. 

Look at the ashy wood in this sitting room up on the 2nd level.

Take the elevator up to the reading room.

What a uniquely colored bd. - the wood and all. Plus, there’s a gorgeous outdoor terrace.

En suite.

Even this secondary bd. has room for a sitting area.

The wood in this house is different in every room.

This shower can accommodate the whole family.

Then it switches to a more rustic look.

Doesn’t it look like a European castle?

Roof top fireplace, anyone? 

The pool and grounds. 

https://www.facebook.com/kwnwa/

[imagines-random]

Love story

Pairings/Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: Your love story.

Warnings: A bit of angst but nothing too major! (Maybe bad writing and grammar lol. English isn’t my first language!)

Song: Love Story (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!!

We were both young when I first saw you

High above the revelry of the grand ball, in the quiet solitude of a moonlit balcony, Prince Loki and your’s worlds collided.

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

The soft glow of the stars illuminated the regal figures as they stepped into the cool night air, unaware that the balcony's edge marked the precipice of a future entwined in love.

I'm standing there

You, drawn by the beauty of the night sky, found yourself on the same balcony, a serendipitous encounter orchestrated by the unseen hand of destiny.

On a balcony, in summer air

The ball was running smoothly.

As the princess of Alfheim you have learned to survive in these types of situations.

Boredom was becoming something familiar to you.

See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

The door to the balcony opened. You didn’t turn, not until the stranger walked to the rail next to you.

See you make your way through the crowd

It was Prince Loki, his eyes reflecting the weight of royal responsibilities, stepped onto the balcony, seeking a moment of respite from the grandeur below.

And say, "Hello"

“Hello” he says as he bows clumsily.

“Nice to meet you Prince” you bow to him

“Loki please, call me Loki” he smiles at you taking your hand in his.

“Nice to meet you Loki” you smile at him.

“Do you want to be friends?” Asks little you.

“Yea !” He replies and grabs your hand running of to the garden dragging you with him.

Little did I know

Kids. What can you say, pure souls that don’t understand the complexity of life or trust.

•a few years after•

Inside of the palace library, Loki and you found yourselves in a conversation about the age-old tale of Romeo and Juliet. You, captivated by the tragic romance, clutched a worn copy of the book against your chest.

That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles

“Come on Loki! The book is good! It's such a beautiful story of love and sacrifice.” You argued back.

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

“Good? That melodramatic play? I find the whole thing rather ridiculous. Two impulsive teenagers meeting a tragic end over a fleeting infatuation.” he chuckles.

“It’s a love story! It's so romantic! The intensity of their love, the willingness to defy their families for each other—it's like a timeless symbol of passion.” You smiled at him

And I was crying on the staircase

“Come one now darling. Passion, or youthful recklessness? I can't fathom why anyone would idealize such impulsive behavior. Real love requires more than just poetic proclamations.”

“But isn't that the essence of love? To be willing to risk everything for the person you can't imagine living without?”

Begging you, "Please don't go"

“Yeah which is why it was so stupid. I believe in a more practical approach. Love shouldn't be about making grand gestures and meeting tragic ends. It should be stable, sensible, and built on mutual respect.”

And I said

“Does that mean you've never felt a love so intense that it defies reason?”

"Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

“I prefer a love story without unnecessary drama. One where both parties think with their heads rather than their hearts.”he smirks.

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

“Perhaps you haven't found the right story to change your perspective yet. Romeo and Juliet may be dramatic, but it's a testament to the power of love—flawed, yes, but undeniably powerful.” You smile at him.

You'll be the prince, and I'll be the princess

“Well, I'll stick to tales that make sense. No tragic romances for me.” Rolls his eyes.

It's a love story, baby, just say yes"

As the debate continued, the words of Shakespeare's timeless play lingered in the air, creating an intriguing contrast between the romantic ideals cherished by you and the pragmatic skepticism of Loki.

•a few years later•

In the heart of the castle, Loki and you harbored a shared secret that flourished under the veil of night.

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

Drawn together by an unspoken connection, they each yearned for something beyond the regal confines of their chambers

We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew

And so, as the moon ascended the velvet sky, casting its silvery glow upon the palace gardens, they embarked on a clandestine journey.

Loki, with a heart that craved adventure, would slip past the guards with the agility of a fox.

So close your eyes

You, full of sneakiness, would evade the watchful eyes of your attendants, tiptoeing through moonlit corridors to the rendezvous point beneath the ancient rose arbor.

Under the blooming roses, Loki and you found in the quiet of the night. The fragrance of blossoms mingled with the whispers of a thousand secrets as they shared stolen glances and laughter that echoed through the garden.

Escape this town for a little while, oh, oh

Loki, burdened by the weight of future responsibilities, discovered in you a confidante who understood the struggle between duty and desire.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

You, yearning for a life beyond protocol, found in Loki a kindred spirit who shared her dreams of a world unfettered by royal expectations.

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

The garden, once a canvas of muted greens and blossoms, became a sanctuary painted with the hues of your emotions.

But you were everything to me

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over beautiful Asgard, you found yourself standing at the stables. The air was heavy with unspoken emotions as you waited for the warriors to arrive. The ones who would accompany the person who had become the center of your world – Loki.

“Darling?” Loki said from behind you.

“So you have to go?” You said without turning to look at him.

I was begging you, "Please don't go"

"I'll miss you," Loki managed to say, his voice betraying the vulnerability he had kept hidden for so long.

And I said

You smiled, a bittersweet expression that mirrored the conflicted emotions within. "I'll miss you too, Loki. More than you can think."

"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

You watched as Loki prepared to mount his horse. The warriors and his brother Thor were there too. All ready to leave. To risk their lives.

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

As they began to leave with Thor guiding them, you looked at Loki hoping he’ll change his mind and stay. He didn’t.

You'll be the prince, and I'll be the princess

With a final glance, Loki rode into the horizon, leaving you waiting. Everyday you found yourself looking to the horizon, waiting for the day when Loki would return.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.

It's a love story, baby, just say yes"

The ache of Loki’s absence lingered, leaving an empty space that seemed impossible to fill.

You navigated the routines of life, haunted by memories of shared moments and the laughter that echoed through corridors now too quiet.

•a few years later•

You stood before your father, a solemn determination in your eyes. Your father, concerned about the stability of his kingdom, had proposed an alliance through marriage to a prince from a neighboring kingdom. However, you, guided by your love for Loki spoke your truth.

"My dear days, this union is crucial for the prosperity of our kingdom. Prince Dominic is a worthy match, and the alliance will strengthen our realm."

Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel

"Father, I appreciate your concern for our kingdom, but my heart belongs to another. Loki, who went into distant lands to protect us, is the one I await."

"Loki is presumed lost, and we cannot delay vital alliances for a hope that may not materialize. Dominic is noble and willing to forge a strong bond with our kingdom."

This love is difficult, but it's real

"Father, my heart tells me Loki will return. I cannot pledge my heart to another when it already belongs to him. I will wait for Loki, for his love is the anchor that guides me." You said standing your ground.

Your father, torn between duty and his daughter's unwavering love, sighed deeply.

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

"My dear daughter, I understand your feelings, but we must prioritize the kingdom's stability. Let us hope for Loki's safe return, but we cannot put our future on hold indefinitely."

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing conversation, Loki had just returned and after hearing the news about your arranged marriage he sought with your father to request the your hand in marriage.

It's a love story, baby, just say yes

“Your Majesty, I come with the utmost respect and sincerity. I've grown deeply fond of your daughter, and I wish to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Oh, oh-oh

I got tired of waiting

“Prince Loki, while I appreciate your candor, I have reservations about a union that may complicate our diplomatic relations.”

Wondering if you were ever coming around

“Your Majesty, I am committed to fostering a strong bond between our realms. My love for your daughter is genuine, and I believe together we can bridge any divides.”

My faith in you was fading

As Loki persisted in his plea, expressing his dedication to both the princess and the prosperity of their kingdoms, your father found himself grappling with a decision that balanced matters of the heart and the stability of the realm.

When I met you on the outskirts of town

“Prince Loki, your sincerity has not gone unnoticed. I shall grant my consent, but I implore you to approach this union with the commitment and diplomacy it deserves.”

And I said

And so, after persistent appeals, the love between you and Loki triumphed over political considerations. The kingdom awaited a union that would not only bind two hearts but also forge a new chapter in the history of their realms.

•the wedding day•

The grandeur of the royal palace was adorned with cascading flowers, sparkling crystals, and an air of anticipation as guests gathered to witness the union of two souls destined for each other.

"Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

The ceremony took place in the palace courtyard, where an ornate archway adorned with blossoms framed the couple, symbolizing the intertwining of their lives.

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Prince Loki, resplendent in regal attire, stood at the altar, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and affection as he awaited his beloved.

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think"

You, radiant in a gown that seemed to capture the essence of moonlight, descended the grand staircase.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

As you walked towards Loki, a hush fell over the gathered assembly, captivated by the ethereal beauty of the moment.

And said

Underneath a canopy of stars, Loki and you exchanged vows in a magical courtyard.

"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone

"I promise not to play too many tricks, my love, except when it comes to stealing your heart every day." He smirks teasing you.

I love you, and that's all I really know

"And I promise to see past your mischief, cherishing the kind and tender soul beneath. Our journey will be a grand adventure, Loki."

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

With rings exchanged and a kiss sealing your vows, the celebration echoed with laughter and music.

It's a love story, baby, just say yes"

"To us, my enchanting bride!"

Oh, oh-oh

"To forever, my mischievous groom!"

Oh, oh-oh, oh

As you danced under the moonlit sky, the union of Loki and you became a tale whispered in the winds of the enchanted realm.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you.

[mistandshcdow]

saltburn x shakespeare, a character and costume analysis 🧚🏼‍♂️🕸️🍾

because this movie isn’t that good, but god is it pretty. this is not an attempt to make the film appear more brilliant than it is—the script and direction does that just fine without my help. it is, however, a testament to the costume design and my own adoration of shakespearean influence in media. so many spoilers under the cut.

despite being the romeo type, elordi’s felix is cast as juliet, embodying clare danes’ iconic 1996 costume. but while juliet’s wings and white dress signal purity and innocence, felix’s wings are more ‘the fallen angel’ by alexander canabel. he is also the only main character not directly drawing from the party’s theme, dressing from the wrong play. considering he ends up dead, maybe this wasn’t the best plan—stick to the dress code folks. his manner of death (poisoning) also matches the death of romeo, driven to suicide at the supposed loss of his lover.

farleigh is bottom, the hapless (terrible) actor who ends up the butt of a fairy’s practical joke and complicated politics. despite being in the family, farleigh is always an outsider, a donkey in fairy court. this costume is also hilariously literal when you think abt it

rosamund pike beautifully embodies the fairy queen titania, which i think is perfect for her: someone who appears regal and untouchable, but easily succumbs to pride and petty gossip at the slightest opportunity.

barry keoghan’s oliver quick is our robin goodfellow, or puck. puck is the one who moves all the pieces in ‘midsummer,’ from enchanting the lovers to cursing bottom, just as oliver is the mastermind behind the downfall of the cattons. it’s also a visual fake-out, as the deer antlers give the impression of him being a prey animal out of his element, when really he’s the most in control.

while less explicitly shakespearean, venetia’s spiderweb dress, dotted with dewdrops and complete with a spider hanging down the open back is a reference to verses of ‘midsummer’ such as act 2 scene 1: ‘and i serve the fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green,’ and act 2 scene 2, ‘weaving spiders come not here,’ all lines spoken by fairies in service of titania.

[most-hated-blorbo-bracket]

any chance of an updated list?

Of course!!

Also, this is the NEW and FUCKING IMPROVED LIST, I alphabetized it so it’s even better than before >:3

Currently, we have 340 unique characters (if I counted right) and 487 total submissions. The top three most submitted fandoms are Homestuck, Danganronpa, and One Piece, excluding submissions that were spelt wrong or spelt differently. The top three submitted characters are Haiji Towa, Vriska Serket, and Stella Goeta (stella has so many submissions it’s funny)!

Finally, this is the raw, unedited list of characters submitted so far. Just because they are here doesn’t mean they’ll be in the tournament; it just means they’ve been submitted, regardless of media or what character they are!

as always, list under the cut!

This first list is for characters with two or more submissions. Characters who have three or more submissions will get first dibs in the tournament!

Akechi Goro

Akio Ohtori / Himemiya

Anakin Skywalker

Ansem the Wise

April O’Neil (2012)

Ardyn Izunia

Ayin

Azula

Bill Cipher

Boston

Bramblestar

Buzz McCallister

Caillou

Chibiusa

Childe

Cici

Cullen Rutherford

Darkstalker

Dazai Osamu

Dio

Dio (Zero Escape)

Donald Trump

Donquixote Doflamingo

Dr. John ‘Jack’ Seward

Drannus

Eichi Tenshouin

Elias Bouchard/Jonah Magnus

Eridan Ampora

Evan Hansen

Every Genshin Impact Character Ever

Glenn Quagmire

George Wickham

Greg Heffley

Haiji Towa

Happosai

Her Imperious Condescension

Higashikata Josuke

Huey Emmerich

Ibara Saegusa

Izzy Hands

JD

Jace Herondale / Wayland / Lightwood / Morgenstern

Jin Guangyao

John Gaius

Julia Mazzone

Junko Enoshima

Jurgen Leitner

Katsuki Bakugo

Kokichi Ouma

Kristoph Gavin

Kromer

Kusaka Masato

Kylo Ren

Kyubey

Lance Dubois

Le’garde

Live Action Buggy

Makima

Mal

Marvin Falsettos

Meenah Peixes

Merlin

Micah Bell

Michael

Minoru Mineta

Mr. Bungee

Pierce Hawthorne

Pierre

Princess Daisy

Ranpo Edogawa (Beast)

Regal Farseer

Ronaldo

Rose Quartz

Santa Claus

Sasuke Uchiha

Scrappy Doo

Sentinel Prime

Shiver

Shou Tucker

Simon

Simon Laurent

Sosuke Aizen

Spamton

Stella Goetia

Teddy / Kuma

The Maverick

The Metatron 

The Once-Ler

Thistleclaw 

Tony Stark

Tsumugi Aoba

Ty Betteridge

Val Velocity

Viren

Vriska Serkat

William Afton

c!Dream

Ōchi Fukuchi

The next list is for characters only submitted once. If you want these characters to have a higher chance of being added to the tournament, feel free to submit more propaganda for them!

Absalom

Abyss Sibling

Adam

Agamemnon 

Airy

Akane

Akito Shinonome

Akito Sohma

Alastor

Alexander Hamilton

Ali Lectric

All For One

Aloise Trancy

Anatole Kuragin

Angel Dust

Anne Hathaway

Any Character From Welcome to Nightvale

Anyone From The Locked Tomb

Aranea Serkat

Ashfur

Astarion

Asuka

Bella Swan

Ben Jackson Walker

Betsy Wolfe

Billy

Billy Hargrove

Black Pete

Blackbeard

Blitzo Buckzo

Booker

Box

Bro-Strider

Buck Cluck

Buzz (cheerios)

Byakuya Togami

Caesar Clown

Caliborn / Lord English

Captain Kuro

Cersei Iannister

Chloe Bourgeois

Chris McClain

Chrollo Lucifer

Cicero

Clara Oswald

Coco

Cozy Glow

Cynte

Damian Wayne

Dan Moroboshi

Dean Venture

Dean Winchester

Detective Saracusa

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

Disembodied Voice

Don Flamenco

Dr. Henry Miller

Drew

Duke

Edelgard

Elias Ainsworth

Elias Ainsworth

Elon Musk

Equius Zahhak

Erebus

Eric Cartman

Erlina and Brugaves

Eugene Coli

Every Single Country In 1993

Everyone In Romeo And Juliet

Father / Dwarf In The Glass

Feferi Peixes

Five

Five Pebbles

Floch

Foreman Oyun

France (Hetalia)

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

Gamzee Makara

Georg Weissmann

God

Goeffry St. John

Gordon Blackwall

Graham Spector

Gra’ha Tia

Haiji Senri

Heath cliff

Henry Miller (OC)

Henry the Eighth

Himiko Toga

Hisoka

Hiyoko Saionji

Holly Blue Agate

House

Huey Laforet

Ianthe Tridentarius

Il Dottore

Inspector Tobias Greyson

Itsuki Shu

Izumi Sena

JJ

Jacopo Bearzatti

James T. Kirk

Jayne Cobb

Jiren

Joe Destefano

Johnny

Jonah Magnus

Jonathan Groff 

Judith Ford / Natalie Cook

Judo

Julia

Julie-Sue

Ken

Kevin

Kusunoki Muu

Kyouichi Saionji

Ladd Russo

Lady Catherine de Bourgh 

Lebreau Fermet Viralesque

Light Yagami

Liontari

Lotor

Louie

Louis

Luke

Mahiru Koizumi

Makoto Itou

Marie

Marlon

Mary Keay

Master Crown

Matou Shinji

Matpat

Me

Medusa Gorgon

Meredith Rodney McKay

Michael Scott

Miguel O’Hara

Millions Knives

Moash

Moeka Kiryuu

Monokubs (Except Monodam)

Mori Ougai

Morris

Mr. Collins

Ms. Valentine

Muu Kusunoki

Muzan Kibutsuji

Mystery Hunter (Jeremiah Hartley)

Nagito Komaeda

Nanami Kiryuu

Narumi

Natsumi Sakasaki

Nefera DeNile

Nickel

Nikola Tesla

Noor Pradesh

Ocelot

Octavian 

Ogai Mori

Orochi

Otto Apocalypse

Paul Von Oberstein

Pencil

Petyr Baelish / Littlefinger

Prince Louis

Queen Scarlet

Quiche

Quill Kipps

Rafal (FEE)

Rafal (SGE)

Rafe Cameron

Randy

Raven Queen

Rebecca Costwolds

Redd White

Riley Finn

Roger

Rohan Kishibe

Roland

Roshi

Rumpelstiltskin

Ruruka Ando

Sakazuki Akainu

Sandy

Sanji

Sebastian Mechaelis

Sheldon Cooper

Shen Jiu

Shiki Tohno/Nanaya

Shinonomes (both)

Shredder

Sigma Klim

Silver Spoon

Skizzleman

Slayer

Solf J. Kimblee

So Sejima

Splinter

Stark Sands

Steven Universe

Stormcaller

Subara Akehoshi

Tatsumi Kazehaya

Teruhashi Makoto

Teruteru

The Eleventh Doctor

The Entirety Of Homestuck

The Groke

The Little Palace Mistress

The Mage

The New Ninja

The Old Palace Master

The Operator

The Pale King

Tim Drake

Tom Wambsgans

Tomaru Sawagoe

Touichiro Suzuki

Trishna

Tumblr Staff

Valens Van Varro

Verstael Besithia

Victor Frankenstein

Vivienne Medranno’s Impsona

Voice In The Calm Ad On Spotify

Volgin

Wanderer/Scaramouche

Wen Chao

Whiteout, Clearsight, and Benjamin

Will Shuester

Willy Stampler

Woodes Rogers

Xisuma

Yoshiharu Hisomu

Yu Ziyuan

Yumichika Ayasegawa

Yuri Briar

Zeke Jaeger

Zenos Galvus

Zhou Zishu

[idiaa-shroxd]

Your cat cafe au is so much fun and so soft I adore it but hearing that Malleus and Leona's cats are friends is so funny to me and spawned the worst idea XD Prefect: Leona, Nebula is pregnant Leona: ...By who? Prefect gestures to Oatmeal and Nebula cuddling.

we share the same brain!! actually working on the cat au ask right now, but have a few irl emergencies that prevented my writing, and here’s a little bit of it! but first let me just say this is 100% my thought process if you and rook have yet to neuter the kitties. oatmeal and nebula have a romeo and juliet love story! \(//∇//)\ more under cut! this isn’t canon in the au or anything but a fun concept!!

“Nebula has never looked better, he scooped her up in one arm and held her firmly against his bicep, smug as she meowed up at him and purred loudly. He had zero hesitation to hold her while walking to his fated rival, looking him and his cat up and down before scoffing. The two proceeded to argue over who’s cat looked better wearing their dorm uniform for a bit, as the two cats seemed content in their arms without hostility to one another. - Leona Kingscholar

Malleus Draconia - As Leona argues with him half his brain has melted to this is the greatest cat. Cat precious. My firstborn is the best in this world. The other half of him smugly picks up his son in his own arm, the cat against his own bicep as he begins talking about how regal he is. Honestly, his cat is just happy to spend time with him and begins playfully nipping at him after not getting enough attention.”

anyways back to the ask!! I’d like to imagine if that actually happened then leona would freak out at malleus, while malleus is shocked he is getting his first grandchild with you already as you reiterate that is a cat, and you both are not married. he’s not listening, to you or leona. they end up being that in law family that despise one another thoroughly like my child is too good for your child but i don’t want to lose custody of my grandchild. cats tend to have multiple kitties at once so im thinking depending on the amount the may definitely mean the boys now live ay Ramshackle with the kittens, with Nebula nipping at her dad proudly showing him her babies and Oatmeal showing his dad his babies too, forcing the two men to bond despite their prominent scowls, but they avoid being too loud because you remind them kittens are sensitive to noises. (。-∀-)

they’d definitely end up trying to adopt the kittens when you graduate.. but that custody battle is a talk for a different day. on the bright side Oatmeal and Nebula finally get to stay with each other openly as they raise the kitties.

for anyone curious ( ^ω^ ) been busy these past few weeks with art fight, and my cat needed a vet emergency, still have to return to the vet later this week, but i’m also working on a r-18 birthday leona fic! friendly reminder my navigation does say mdni and you are responsible for the content on my profile that you view!♪

Σ('◉⌓◉’) actually haven’t written r-18 works for social media in a bit, but i will try my best to make the fic! if anyone does not want to view the content, please block the tag “shrouded in desire.” which i will be tagging the fic, and all r-18+ fics on my profile for those who do not want to see the content!

[wrathofrats]

coconut :3

coconut: favorite perfume?

You’ve opened up a worm hole do you feel scared

My fav that wear most days if I’m going out is Arsenic by Sucreabeille. It smells like Antique lace, gasoline, old books, fresh vanilla bean. Absolutely my favorite ever

My second that I wear every time usually besides arsenic is Juliet has a Gun. Which is a very basic and clean scent that kinda molds to your own body. I really enjoy it, it’s unique imo. I also have Mmm which is a derivative of Juliet and I wear that to work. “A gourmand accord of Vanilla and Neroli. An olfactive sweetness that regales the senses and provokes immediate pleasure.”

And then for days I don’t wanna wear fancy perfumes, I usually grab something from my bath and body works bin. Dark Kiss, Confetti Daydream, Love and Sunshine, Black Amethyst, lavender sea salt, I own a lot of perfume this is only the stuff I genuinely wear often LMAO

[jomiddlemarch]

the better part of valor

“And this is Captain Miller,” Mary said, keeping her voice low. The man, a pallor beneath his tanned skin, dark shadows under his eyes, had taken a turn for the worse in the night, a consequence perhaps of being assigned to Dr. Hale, and she was loathe to wake him any earlier than she must. Hale would bluster about his time being valuable, but Jed was more likely to shrug and then expound upon what any decent physician could glean from a simple observation. If they had had coffee and not chicory, he might go on at some length, clearly enjoying himself while also waiting to see if the patient would rouse to the sound of his voice. If Jed sidled a bit closer in these circumstances, the hint of a smile almost concealed by his beard, the admiration in his gaze more obvious, Mary could not be held responsible or accused of any untoward behavior ill-suiting a Head Nurse.

“He ain’t. He’s Major Miller,” the young boy in the next bed piped up. 

“Indeed?” Jed said. He barely needed to pivot to take in the youngster, the beds having been pulled closer together than Mary ordinarily allowed. It meant the ward could hold a few more wounded, but she’d acquiesced primarily to assuage the boy’s combination of imperious demand and abject pleading. It happened this way sometimes, a pair or trio of soldiers came in together and it was apparent that their bond went beyond the battle or the uniform. 

“I see no evidence of such an elevated rank,” Jed added. “Perhaps you’re mistaken, a head injury can cause confusion—”

“I know what I know.” Beneath the bandages, the boy’s eyebrows drew together. Stubborn he was and though Mary was certain he’d lied about his age and very possibly about his name and sex given the binding she’d discovered under his newspaper-lined coat, she recognized the ring of truth in his expression and the flatness of his voice.

“Then you know better than the Union Army?” Jed countered. He’d taken chicory but there’d been fresh milk and Mary had poured with as lavish a hand as her New England upbringing would allow. Jed was in good spirits and was sure to regale her with a thorough medical assessment of the young private when they left the ward. 

“He got a whaddyacallit, a brevet, after what he did a month ago. Should’ve gotten a passel of them, all the Rebs he’s got, sir,” the boy said. 

“For gallantry on the field,” Jed said.

“Not gallantry,” the boy said, shaking his head as much as he could. Mary had attended to his dislocated shoulder herself, strapping him securely without disturbing the muslin tightly wound around his, or rather her, chest. “He’s the bravest man I know, the bravest man in the whole Union Army, and I wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t—if he didn’t—”

Something, a memory most likely, had overtaken the boy and his voice had risen before he broke off, worryingly soprano, enough to draw attention to the discussion and to the smoothness of his cheeks washed free of dirt and dried blood, the slightness of his frame. Carrying a flag and a drum, he’d be taken for what he said he was, but here, in the narrow cot, the bandages around his head like the nuns’ wimples, he was in danger of discovery and his champion Major Miller slept on, unable to defend with a distraction. Someone must intervene before Jed was forced to ask questions Mary knew he would rather defer, a truth undiscovered one he needn’t act on as either Doctor or Captain Foster, could trust to her discretion.

“I’ll be sure to make of note of the Major’s rank, Private Elton,” Mary said, lingering just a little on the name the boy had given her when she’d asked, a subtle reminder of the role that had been undertaken. He’d stumbled over it, really, salvaging the near-disastrous admission by coughing, first clumsily as Mary recalled the poor acting of the man rehearsing as Juliet when Corporal Gielgud had spiked a fever and been unable to tread what passed for the hospital’s theater boards, and then with the convulsive hacking that those who’d breathed in too much smoke and dust were prone to. Ellen was most likely or Eleanor, Elizabeth more commonly shortened to Lizzie or Betsy, not the El— that had been abandoned. The people she’d left behind must fear for her greatly, unless there were none left, Elton an orphan or a poor relation the larder barely stretched to feed.

“He rode a horse gut-shot,” Elton offered. “Major Miller was shot, not the horse.”

“A helpful, though unnecessary, clarification,” Jed remarked. “Exceedingly helpful for the horse, one imagines.”

“Took out two snipers while he did it,” Elton went on, undeterred by Jed’s comment. “They would’ve killed me but he could’ve not got wounded. Belly’s bad to get hurt—” 

Jed picked up Major Miller’s wrist and after a few seconds, nodded, raising an eyebrow in that rapid assessment he was capable of, indicating he thought the man would live but that he’d have had a better chance under Jed’s hands than Hale’s. It was enough for Mary to go on with; she always found it easier to tell the truth and to lie by omission.

“I’m sure he was glad to do his duty. To keep you safe,” she said. She had half-expected another argument, that protecting Elton wasn’t Miller’s duty, that it was unreasonable to be kept safe in a battle, to have a stranger become your closest ally, but Elton stayed quiet.

“His injury isn’t terrible, though you’re correct that abdominal wounds have generally worse outcomes,” Jed said. Elton gave Jed such a glare of skeptical scrutiny it was all Mary could do to keep from chuckling. “I’ve seen worse and I’ve seen plenty,” he said, direct as he could be when it was needful.

“You ain’t the one they call the Butcher, are you?” Elton asked.

Jed choked on the laugh he couldn’t suppress despite the quelling glance Mary gave him.

“No, I haven’t been given that esteemed title. It belongs to our other surgeon, whose efforts your comrade appears to have weathered. Major Miller likely possesses a hearty constitution and an ample degree of, shall we say, fortitude?”

“He’s got grit and he’s obstinate as my Aunt Phaedra’s mule, if that’s what all your high-falutin’ words mean,” Elton said. This time, Mary permitted herself to smile.

“I’ll watch over him myself,” Mary said. “And you may send any of the orderlies for me if you are worried, I’ll come as quick as I can.”

“And now, young Elton,” Jed said, the name uttered with a sincerity that was undercut by the acute acknowledgement of his gaze, “you may rest easy, for there is no one here who is more determined to keep a man alive, even if he should wish to argue, than our Head Nurse. She should merit her own brevet, save that there is no higher post for her to ascend to, given that Lincoln’s still in the White House and the Mother Mary Veronica assures me God occupies His throne.”

[invisibleraven]

The race to 500!! It's always been you, peterpatterlina

NUMBER 500 Y'ALL! Seems fitting to do it with my OT3 and my favourite trope. I hope you enjoy!

Ser Reginald wiped the sweat from his brow, beaming at the chanting crowd. The tourney had gone well, and the purse was as good as his. It had been a good day.

If only he had someone to share it with.

Then he felt it, the tug of his heartstrings, meaning his fated love was nearby. He entered every tourney in hopes of this moment. Travelled far and wide, searching for them. To finally gaze upon his other half and proclaim his love.

Frantically he searched the crowd, eyes finally landing on the royal box where the fair Lady Julianna and her faithful guard Ser Lucas were sitting. Sharing a smile between them as he caught their eye. Could one of them be for him?

He approached slowly, not daring to hope, but the tug felt stronger and stronger as he got closer. Close enough to see the gap in the lady’s smile, the sparkle of the knights eyes. He gave a deep bow, but never broke their gaze.

Lady Julianna flushed and giggled, Ser Lucas shooting him a smirk. And Ser Reginald accepted the token-two cloths twined together, a brilliant royal purple twined with the deepest regal blue.

Oh.

Reginald looked that them then, and felt a tug at his heart… two tugs. For the two hearts opposite his own that were meant to be his. And he theirs.

He took the red cape from his back and tore a length from it, twining it with the one in his hand.

And just like that, three hearts beat as one.

~

Juliet grinned as she pushed her way through the crowd towards the Globe Theatre. It was rare that she got time off of her position as a lady in waiting to the Lady Caroline, but today the King's Men were premiring a new Shakespeare play. She had quite liked the last one what with her sharing a name with one of the characters.

Even if it made her weep uncontroallably at the end. She was glad this one was supposed to be a comedy.

And a comedy it was, Juliet finding herself laughing uproariously at the quips of Beatrice and Benedick. Booing Claudio when he disgraced Hero. Cheering when the happy ending came and all the lovers were wed and happy. It had been a lovely story.

Yet something changed when the actors came out for their bows. The role of Benedick had been played by a brash youth she had heard of; Lukas, the son of a wealthy Earl. His story had been passed amongst the maids, how he had run away to pursue trodding the boards. Juliet found it all rather foolishly romantic.

But the man playing Beatrice she did not know. He was introduced as Reginald, ward of Lord Peters, and she had to surpress a shiver at that. She had met the aforementioned lord at a ball once and he was a most unpleasant creature. She didn't think he would have the heart to harbour anyone, let alone take on a ward.

However, when the men joined hands to bow, their eyes met hers for a moment and it was as if lightning struck. Suddenly the world was filled with colour, bursting forth.

They looked equally startled, leaping from the stage and wading through the assembled audience until they met her. Lukas pressed a kiss to her hand, and then Reginald the other.

Juliet remarked on their glorious eyes, a spring time green and a sparkling topaz. They grinned, informing her that hers were the most enchanting shade of brown.

And nothing Shakespeare could write would ever top that love story.

~

Luc grinned as he and his fellow revolutionaries marched through the square, proclaiming liberty, equality, fraternity to all who would listen. The royal family cared not for them, so why did the people need a king who was content to feast while his subjects lay dying in the street from sickness and starvation?

Luc had been a student once upon a time, from a good family. Able to study poetry, music, history to his heart's content. He never wanted for anything and happily shared what he could with those who had less.

But then a childhood friend came back from war unable to work, unable to pay for food or medicine. And Luc found out too late, held poor Robert in his arms as he took his last breath. And vowed to make it right.

Sure, his parents had all but disowned him, but Luc wanted-needed-to fight so that no one else would lose their Robert.

So here he was, shouting alongside his brothers in the fight for freedom, pleading their case to a wealthy and unfeeling crowd. But some were listening, some were joining them. Even one more voice could lead to triumph.

Then a wealthy couple came into the square, and Luc swore the whole world froze.

They were beautiful, as the rich often are. But there was something about them that drew him in. Closer and closer until he was right in front of them.

"Oh, hello," the lady said, a genteel smile on her face.

"Lovely day," the man said with a tip of his hat and a genuine smile. "Strange that everyone else seems to be too still to enjoy it."

Luc looked around, and sure enough, no one was moving. Time had literally stopped for the three of them.

"Well that shouldn't stop us from taking advantage. Means first pickings for rowboats and picnic spots," he suggested.

The lady-Julietta he later learned, and her companion Reginald loved both of those things.

And yes, Luc still pledged to fight for the revolution, but his heart wasn't in the fight right this moment as it was busy entertwining with the two souls before him.

~

These three souls kept coming back together, lifetime after lifetime, always finding one another.

A trio of bandits in Edwardian times that felt a spark at the first touch of their hands all grabbing for the same display of jewels.

A nurse and soldiers admist the Great War who had been hearing each other's voices in their dreams since birth.

A gang boss, his girl and their trusty barkeep offering a refuge from Prohibition that had come together when an unruly waterfowl chased them together on a stroll through the park.

Three hippies who had lived with the tastes of each other's favourite foods on their lips that met at Woodstock.

They always found each other, had full and lovely lives together as often as they could.

And now it was their turn again.

~

Reggie was bored. He usually loved history class, but today the teacher was going on about the legend of reincarnated soulmates, and all the documentation surrounding the theory.

Don't get Reggie wrong, he is a romantic at heart, but he knows that all this soulmate nonsense is just that-nonsense.

At least for him.

Reggie has never felt a tug of strings, tasted something without food being there, heard voices or melodies. His world has been full of colour and sensation. He has no names scrawled on him, no handprints from a first touch or words first exchanged.

Reggie is a blank, and he's learned to live with it.

He has his friends, his band, what more could he ask for?

Apparently the sense enough not to eat street dogs.

But instead of getting reborn into a new life, Reggie, Luke, and Alex become ghosts. What's up with that?

Worse yet they end up 25 years in the future. Like... the hell universe?

Only now, Reggie thinks there might be something to the whole soulmate thing, watching Luke and Julie interact. How smitten they are, despite none of them being able to touch. How his heart longs for the both of them and he can never say.

Now matter how right it feels to play with them both while Alex is off with Willie (who he's fairly certain is Alex's soulmate, but the drummer hasn't said much either way). How when Julie smiles or Luke grins, Reggie's stomach does backflips.

How when Luke does that weird half kiss thing, it takes everything in Reggie not to reel him in for a real one.

How he longs to take Julie into his arms at The Orpheum when she sends him the softest most loving look he's ever been on the receiving end of.

And then later, when they can touch, literally glowing as they hug, Reggie takes a step back. Lets Luke and Julie have their moment. Alex is already gone to find Willie, and Reggie idly wonders if this means Ray and Carlos can see him now. Maybe some family type bonding would make him feel better about being the fifth wheel.

Only instead of some big sweeping kiss, Luke and Julie hold out their hands to him. Pull him into their embrace.

"Wh-what's going on?" Reggie stammers.

"Do you remember when we learned about past lives and soulmates in school?" Luke asks.

"I think I almost fell asleep in that class, but sure," Reggie replies.

"I have memories from mine," Julie says. Which is-almost unheard of. "And in every one, I had the two of you there with me."

"Me?" Reggie squeaks.

"It's always been you Reg," Luke replies.

"It's always been us," Julie amends. "Lifetime after lifetime, the three of us together. It wasn't until tonight that it really became clear, everything was fuzzy before. But when you guys poofed off stage, they all came rushing back, clear as day."

"I knew the second we all hugged, it was like an electric shock straight to my system," Luke admits. "Before we died, I had words on me-but neither in a language I could understand."

"Spanish?" Julie asks with a giggle. Luke shrugs with a sheepish smile.

"It said te amo?"

"That's Spanish for I love you," Julie confirms. "What about the other?"

"It was a bunch of symbols or something?" Luke says.

Reggie breaks from the embrace, grabbing Luke's notebook and quickly writes אני אוהב אותך. "Did it look like this?" Luke beams and nods.

"How did you know?"

"Because that's Hebrew," Reggie says. "For I love you."

"You know Hebrew?" Julie asks.

"I'm Jewish on my mom's side," Reggie says. "Not really devout, but I remember the language well enough." Then he frowns. "But I didn't have anything when we were alive. No signs or symbols, nothing."

"Reggie you and I met when we were in diapers," Luke says. "You probably knew it was me right from the start-no sign needed."

Oh.

"But... I don't have anything now either," he says.

"That's okay," Julie says, pulling him in. "We still love you no matter what." With that she perches up on her tiptoes and kisses him. It's sweet and gentle, the most perfect first kiss Reggie could ask for. Then when they break apart, Luke pulls him in for a kiss as well. Cheeky and playful, and Reggie grins into it.

Finally he steps back, and oh, Reggie can see the string that leads them together, just for a moment as Luke and Julie kiss. Can see everything birighter and clearer, can hear everything crisper.

Including their three hearts, finally beating in synch.

Wait... their hearts?

He reaches for Julie's hand, and places it on his chest, the other on Luke's.

And he knows it's real when she starts to cry happy tears. Can feel her relief, Luke's confused joy admist his own elatment.

He's still confused as to why all the soulmate signs are showing up after he found them, but he doesn't really care.

He's got a whole lifetime, and hundreds more after this one to figure it out.

And with Luke and Julie at his side for every single one.

[thedivinelights]

HUMBLE HUMANITIES: A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Here's the first stave of my new fic! I'll only post it all on Ao3 when I complete all of it, hopefully in December time, so y'all can get the sneak peek with Stave One!

(UNDER THE CUT)

⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯

STAVE ONE ⎯ · ⎯ CHIEF RECRUITMENT

Scrooge and Marley were together, to begin with. There could be no doubt about that. Their marriage had not been consummated by legality, but had been consummated nonetheless in the eyes of the bankers, the investors, the shareholders, and the chief partnership. Scrooge signed the cohabitation agreements. Marley confirmed the merger of their lives. And in the world of markets and business and consumerism, their word might as well have been law.

Yes, as their employees had muttered and murmured to anyone somehow unaware, the Old Scrooge-Marley duo were, in fact, shagging.

Now, the question as to how the labourers had been privy to such information was as much a mystery to you as it is to me. In a time of outdated legislations and the basic etiquette of privacy, one would think that such intimate details would remain concealed behind closed doors and closed lips, only to be spoken out by those allowed to speak. But upon this Sceptered Isle that I call upon as my one abode, you may permit me to state that I find myself at liberty to both discuss and regale you with such tales. After all, what power could impede a narrative save for whom the narrative is about? If you were unaware of Romeo and Juliet’s affections for one another, would you still remember them as the star-crossed lovers of Verona? And if you were not privy to Scrooge and Marley’s companionship, would their story be as captivating? I think not.

Of course, Scrooge and Marley were well aware of this arrangement. How could they not be? If one had the gall or the balls to ask, they would say it was naught but a matter of convenience, devoid of personal affections or romantic inclinations, though such claims would fall short of convincing anyone. They had been partners in every sense of the word. They were each other’s sole companion, their sole confidant, their sole lover, their sole business associate, their sole tormenter, and — though not in the sense of the law — their sole husband. They clawed their way to the top with cunning, calculative precision, hand over fist, soaked deep in the blood, sweat and tears of the corporate enemies who dared to try and make a fool of them.

Asplex Industries, est. 1990. A multinational conglomerate with more billions in their coffers than most nations could only dream of having in their treasuries. And no, I will not be resorting to flaunting numbers with an arbitrary number of zeroes to impress upon you the sheer magnitude of their clout. Suffice it to say that Scrooge and Marley were perched on top of a gilded tower that scraped the heavens, constructed from the bones of their competitors and built upon the foundations of two simple game developers who wished to find their way in the world.

Oh, but how callous they had been, Scrooge and Marley! The wringing, clasping, twisting, shaving, clenching, esurient old sinners!  Quiet and venomous like a viper, deadly and circling like a shark. No warmth — not even their own, as dim as it were — could temper the coldness that clung to them like a shroud. The media could paint them in the most wondrous and exaggerated colours they pleased, but the truth remained ever starkly evident to those who worked under, worked with, or worked without: Scrooge and Marley were ruthless. They were the kind of leaders who could make the bravest of souls quail and the most stalwart of hearts tremble beneath their heel. The Chief Executive Officers of Asplex that the business world celebrated and scorned in a single breath. The kind of leaders who could squeeze out every ounce of profit, every iota of innovation, every morsel of loyalty, with enough pressure and heat to turn carbon into diamonds.

No self-respecting charity approached them for philanthropic efforts. No innocent child invoked their names. No nefarious politician bribed them for their riches. For there was no charity they supported, no child they cherished and no politician they trusted. 

And they cared not. Not one single bit.

On one particular evening — four days prior to Christmas Day, 2010 — Scrooge and Marley sat comfortably in their office. The weather, as it often was in England, was cold and damp and miserable, with not even a speck of snow to accompany their bleak surroundings. The office they shared, small and unwelcoming, held not a single ounce of the opulence that their wealth could afford. From the fraying curtains to the worn cushions to the scratched mahogany desk, every facet of their workspace retained much of the furniture that could be salvaged from their beginnings. Sentiment? Frugality? None could say. It only made logical sense, however, that they would share a desk instead of having two, for they would have no use for separate stations when their work was so intertwined and interdependent.

Jacob A. T. Marley, the elder of the two, sat with his long fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp green eyes examining the computer monitor before him. His greying black hair was tied up in a loose, frayed bun, and his tailored, almost impeccable suit hung on his lean frame. Marley held the numbers in the palm of his hand, for he was the financier who knew every pound, dollar, franc, and euro in the corporate coffers. The charmer who could convince the saintly to buy the Old Scratch’s own pitchfork. The smiler who could turn a conversation on its head and leave his interlocutor baffled and speechless. The world called him a serpent in the grass, slithering along the ground and shedding the scales of genuine emotions behind him. But what everyone seemed to forget was the addendum that this serpent had fangs dripping with venom. That this viper could bite, and he could bite hard.

Ebenezer L. P. Scrooge sat beside him, reclining in his worn leather chair with blue eyes half-lidded and as he ran a hand through his wild and unruly brown hair, somehow ageing faster than his husband appeared to be. Scrooge was the strategist, the man who could play the market like Martha Argerich played the piano, anticipating every turn and shift of the trends with such precision one would think that he himself had been controlling them. It mattered not if your contracts had been gone over with fine-tooth comb, went through with every nuanced detail down to the thinnest of fine print and reviewed by a legal team more akin to feral, rabid bulldogs in suits. If you sat across Scrooge at the negotiating table and he wanted anything — your assets, your stocks, hell, even your staff — he would tear it all away from you, piece by agonising piece, limb from torturous limb, like a megalodon towering over a school of hapless minnows. To call him a shark would be far too polite, perhaps even a compliment. Scrooge was the tempestuous sea itself, and woe betide the ones who dare try and tame it.

On the other side of the office door, checked in only by a cheap baby camera super glued onto the counter, they kept a close and vigilant eye upon their secretary, who sat upon his chair with an urgent focus belying his relaxed demeanour. Bob Cratchit, he was called, and his loyalty to Scrooge and Marley had been just as unshakeable as it had been when he had first arrived. Even in the chill of the room that retained the bare minimum of heating, causing him to adorn more layers than he’d needed outdoors, Bob remained ever diligent. For he had maintained their public image, their social media presence, their events and their correspondences with partnering companies.

“Merry Christmas, Tito Ben! Tito Jake!” A cheerful voice cried out. The voice of Scrooge and Marley’s nephew, Frederick de Dios, burst into the office with such joviality — eyes sparkling, cheeks rosy, dressing in a garish red sweater and topped with reindeer antlers — that you’d think him as Saint Nicholas himself.

“Bob…” Marley warned, completely ignoring his nephew’s cheerful greetings to glare at the man who was supposed to keep him away, only to receive halfhearted apologies and the familiar shrug that said he had ‘tried’ to keep him away, as if he had even tried at all!

“Damn it all, Fred, can’t you see we’re busy?!” Scrooge snarled, his train of thought momentarily shattered by the buffoon who waltzed in without knocking.

“Oh c’mon, Tito Ben. It’s almost Christmas!” Fred exclaimed. “Work can wait until after the New Year, can’t it?”

“Almost Christmas means it isn’t Christmas.” Marley retorted monotonously. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not the only ones working, nor are we your personal charity. And unlike some of us, we have money to count and responsibilities to uphold.”

Fred, clearly not satisfied with that response, moved in closer to their desk, resting his hands atop the wood and shuffling Scrooge’s carefully-laid paperwork, his chagrin clear to all as he glared daggers so pointed his nephew might as well have been murdered just by sight alone.

“Why do you two have to be so stubborn?” Fred returned gaily, a glint forming in his eyes. “You’re both the richest men in the world! Forgoing a few million pounds is worth it for celebrating Christmas dinner with Mum, Nanay, and I, don’t you think?”

Scrooge and Marley exchanged a meaningful glance for but a moment, a silent communication that only they could decipher. They knew their answer, and they knew their answer well.

“What we think, dear nephew…” Scrooge slowly stood from his seat, his taller frame looming over the young man’s petite stature. “...is that Christmas is nothing but a time of blatant consumerism. A time when people wastefully spend on frivolous ‘gifts’ that most would forget about in mere weeks. A time when they indulge in gluttony and sloth to drown away the sorrows of their sad, sordid little lives. And when the clock strikes twelve on the twenty-sixth, what do people do? Goodwill toward men, more like good riddance to genuine morality and hard work.”

“You can’t be serious!” Fred cried out in exclamatory and exaggerated surprise.

“There’s no denying the truth of Ebenezer’s words.” Marley continued for him with a sterner tone, just as steadfast in their decision as they had countless years before. “It’s a hypocritical holiday that picks one’s pockets every twenty-fifth of December, Fred, and we simply want no part of it. Send your mothers our regards, but don’t expect us to bend over backwards to cater to their whims.”

Fred, unfazed by their coldness, simply chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, alright… Tito Ben, Tito Jake, you’re impossible. But you know what? I still love you guys, even if you probably don't want me to admit it. So, I’m going to keep coming back, year after year, Christmas after Christmas, to invite you. And someday, somewhere, I hope you’ll join us, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Goodbye, nephew.” Scrooge said.

“And who knows? While you’re at it, you’ll both truly understand just what you are missing.”

“Goodbye, Fred.” Marley said.

“I’m sorry you can’t see past your numbers and your profits, but I promise that, when I make a name for myself — as loud and as proud as your own — then I shall invite you over for the greatest Christmas bash the world has ever seen! Maligayang Pasko, Tito Ben, Tito Jake!”

“Good. Bye.”

“At Isang Manigong Bagong Taon!”

“Security!”

Before the broad men with scowling faces and state-of-the-art equipment could even dare to snag him, Fred had already spun on his heel and made his grand exit with a dashing flourish and a dashing swiftness, stopping only to bestow a hearty ‘Merry Christmas!’ to the grateful secretary, who returned them just as heartily.

“Honestly, does that boy have anything better to do than to pester us?” Scrooge grumbled as he scooped up a handful of his papers, his mood soured both by the visitations of his sister’s son and the wishing of tidings he overheard. “Seventeen going on eighteen and still doing nothing with his life.”

Marley scoffed, sharing the sentiment. “Well, we can’t exactly blame him for his upbringing. It was Fan after all who brought him into the world.”

“You watch your mouth, Jacob.” Scrooge shot a warning look to his husband of nigh-on three decades, his hands stilling for a moment. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“Bah! As if that makes a difference.” Marley waved a hand dismissively. “Fan’s had a bleeding heart since she was a little lady, and now she’s passing that onto her drifter of a son. All idealistic dreams and no purchase on the harsh reality that awaits him. If there’s one thing Aurora and I agree upon, it’s that Fred needs to pull his head out of his arse.”

Neither of them spoke a word of the matter after the fact, content to remain in their cold, unwelcoming bubble in their dingy office, fearing not the slightest bit of a changed nature to their familiar surroundings. They were habitual beings, they supposed. Always retaining a routine. Always seeking a schedule. That was the way in which they operated. Two halves of a whole. Two peas in a pod. A pair unlike any other.

They didn't spare a second glance towards Bob when he stood at the door frame and waited for one of them — usually Marley, sometimes Scrooge — to bid him enter. He walked with a hesitant stride, like a little boy who had been called over by his parents with his full name spoken in distaste.

“Mr. Scrooge. Mr. Marley. I received a call from Save the Children International.” Bob toyed with the volume buttons on his iPad, shifting the white sound bar back and forth. “They’re, uh… waiting on a response for the substantial charity donations that were discussed last week.”

Scrooge sighed. “What were these donations for again?”

“It was for the winter relief program, sir. The one to help provide warm clothing, food and shelter for underprivileged and impoverished children here in England.”

“The parents can claim Child Benefit, can they not?” Marley asked.

“I’d suppose so, but some-”

“And free school meals? Eligibility for a child’s bursary?”

“Hardly something to-”

“What about the Public Health insurance?”

“Mr. Marley, that’s not-”

“Cratchit, my good man, if these benefits are all in effect still, why should we be the ones to offer handouts to nameless children with parents of their own? Parents who should, in their duty as parents, stop living off of the government’s capital and get a real career.” Marley looked up from the monitor, a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. “It is not as though it were I or Ebenezer who sired them.”

Bob withered under the scrutiny and the cruelty, slouching downwards as he spoke with nary a whisper. “But… But think of the-”

“I believe Mr. Marley and I have made our stance on the matter rather clear to you, Cratchit.” Scrooge slammed his hand forcefully onto the desk. “No. Means. No. Tell those plebs to go and find someone else to bother. Or, better yet, not bother at all.”

Under the hard and icy glare of Scrooge, Bob relented in his persistence, dreading the moment when he would have to inform the hopeful and committed volunteers of the fund of the disheartening news, fully ready to receive the brunt of the disaster in all of its glory. He turned back towards the door and his small space in front of their office when Scrooge called to him to stay in his ever-commanding tone.

“I’m guessing you and the rest of our sorry lot want Christmas and New Year’s off, eh?”

“If… If that's convenient, sir.”

“Ha! Convenient?!” Scrooge laughed bitterly, the sound a grating noise to anyone who hadn't been him or his husband. “Convenient hardly even begins to describe it.”

“Productivity isn’t exactly optimal during the festive season, Mr. Scrooge.” Bob returned cordially.

“But still far more productive than no production.” Scrooge added with a wry smile, before slumping in his seat. “Very well. Take your goddamn holidays off tomorrow. But we expect you all to be refreshed and ready when the second of January rolls around. No laziness. No slacking off.”

Bob smiled happily, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he bounded up and down slightly, before remembering that a professional setting had still been established, and he bowed in thanks, and bowed once more, before running out to tell the other employees the good tidings. It would not be until a few hours later — as the toll of the clocks and the ringing of phones so aptly deigned to make themselves known to the people — that Bob, in his jubilant nature, bid his employers farewell, donned a tightly-covered jacket, cashmere and wool all threaded and frayed, and rushed to the grand elevator, squeezing in with all the others bound downwards like sardines in a tin can, rushing through the streets of Canary Wharf with great haste and even greater sense of relief.

Upon the departure of their faithful secretary, Scrooge and Marley agreed to follow suit. They shut down the computer with a bitter roughness, sorted out their cumbersome paperwork with the enthusiasm of a sleeping sloth, and closed up with all the mechanical efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

Sometimes they took the train. Oftentimes Marley drove them back in his old Vauxhall Velox. But they had gone together every single time. Pedestrians and strangers who knew none of the true extent of their reach still gave them a wide berth as if they were infected by a miserable little contagion they feared would infect them as well and ruin their joyous celebrations. It was an odd thing for them, ending so early on a Tuesday when there was still much left to be done, but as Marley often reminded Scrooge, they were the bosses. They could do whatever they damn well pleased, and if they pleased to have an early dismissal, then so be it. Scrooge would complain. Marley would not. The night had been just as cold and just as miserable as it had been but a few hours prior, perhaps even more so than it had been in the presence of the two who shared its disposition. The Wharf itself, a forest of steel and glass that comprised the financial district of London, was as bustling as it had always been, with suits and ties and dresses flitting around like skittish rodents, suitcases and bags clutched to their chests like holy relics, and the grating sound of motorists and engines whizzing past in haste or stalling with a low purr. Pollution covered the sky in a thick, grey, smoggy blanket, blotting out the stars and the moon like an impenetrable wall of burnt oils and coals barring the Earth from the firmament in which it hung. Caliginous, and much colder. Biting, unforgiving cold, just how they liked it.

They had their quiet dinner in their usual quiet restaurant, a small place with just as much disdain for the holidays as they retained, sipping on hard liquor and nibbling on food in contemplative silence. Neither of them uttered a word about the day’s events — not even a whisper about the charity or the nephew — and spoke no more than necessary when paying the bill without so much as a tip for the waitstaff who had their wages to survive, and not much was to be expected by the two patrons who kept to themselves in the furthermost corner of the establishment.

Marley drove home in silence, Scrooge looked out the window with an absentminded gaze as he watched the world go by in a blur of lights and movement and activity. Conversation was short and succinct, never deviating from anything unnecessary. Would they need to go grocery shopping, or did they have enough in their terribly-stocked fridge? Scrooge would have to check. Did they need to review the reports for the latest subsidiaries, or could that wait until the year turned? Marley would decide that. They discussed the evening news playing like the murky sounds of the fifties in the background, heard but not truly listened to, discussing the scandals and legislations between competitors and politicians and looking to see if Asplex was affected in any way. They were not, thankfully, as the news had been as dull and boring as it had always been.

In the muted county of Essex, their home remained, ever as it had been since they bought it in years uncountable. It was a semi-detached house only a few minutes away from the college in which they had both attended. A building so vastly different from its merry companions with their garlands and their lights, you would think that it would have been plucked out from some distant faraway land in a distant faraway time, aged not with grace but with disuse. 

Now, let it be known that there was hardly anything particularly remarkable about the door of their house, nor the doorbell in which accompanied it, except that it was large and sturdy, built to withstand both the elements and the unwanted attention. You may also be interested to know that the fence that surrounded the front yard was so imposing and towering that it could deter even the most determined of carolers and most desperate of beggars from approaching. Finally, let it be known that Scrooge and Marley’s security system, as could be expected from men as high-profile as themselves, was the sort that could be exaggerated as the rival of Fort Knox or the vaults of the Bank of England. And then, after learning all of what has been known, explain to me, if you can, how in the deepest pits of hell that a wreath — a single, lone, sentimental, boring, old wreath — was found perched upon the front door of their house, hung with a pitiable attempt at Christmas cheer.

A wreath, of all things! They might as well have had a bright neon sign slapped across their front door, boldly screaming that they celebrated the infernal holiday! What an affront to their sensibilities, an invasion of their sanctuary, a mockery of their stoic resolve! Scrooge and Marley scowled at the sight, as if the mere presence of this festive decoration was a personal provocation to their very existence.

“Who in the hell…?” Scrooge snatched the ring of greenery off of the door, slender fingers gripping it as if were a vile and infectious object.

“Someone with a death wish, it seems.” Marley remarked, his ears attuned to the sound of high-pitched giggling, followed promptly by loud and distressed shushing when his gaze turned to the alley in which the noise originated, only to catch the briefest glimpse of worn shoes and tattered coats disappearing around the corner. 

Good. It appeared the brats knew their place well enough. 

Scrooge gave the wreath one last contemptuous look before tossing it aside, not caring where it landed as long as it was out of sight. “Let's not waste any more time on this nonsense.”

Barring the disruption upon the front with the atrocious festivity, the house had been much the same in its sterility indoors. From the moment they stepped inside, a flight of stairs greeted them on their right, a shoe rack — wooden and gnarled from pests they had long since forgotten — standing resolute beside it, yet barely used as Marley kicked his loafers off with the enthusiasm of a parched man trudging through a blazing desert in July, and Scrooge kept his oxfords on the rug beneath the coat rack in a pile of pairs lining the wooden floor like breadcrumbs left behind for Hansel and Gretel.

Marley checked, double-checked, triple-checked the locks placed upon the door, the cold and stiff handle stubborn against his movements before relenting with a loud click and shift of the lock. Scrooge, meanwhile, had dipped into the kitchen on the left, clearing out the rusted steel and antique cookware that filled the basin before their leave in the morning. 

“Where are the toothpicks?” Scrooge asked with a grumble as he rummaged through the cupboards, hoping to find the elusive nicotine fix to settle the itch of his vices.

“Third drawer, by the sink.” Marley drawled as he made his way to the living room, catching a brief glimpse of the triumphant smirk on his husband’s face as he popped the toothpick into his mouth. “You should really quit those things, Ben.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “You and your neverending health crusade. You sound like a broken record, Jake.”

“Is it really a crime for me to worry about my husband’s health?” Marley raised an eyebrow as Scrooge made his way over to him, the latter’s taller form allowing him to ruffle the former’s hair with ease.

“Only when you make a habit of it.” Scrooge quipped.

Soon after, in the comfort of their living room, Scrooge had brought out a bottle of scotch. An aged one, a twenty-five-year-old Macallan. Aged scotch, a source of great indulgence and insatiable temptation, the elixir of life itself as the two had often considered it to be. They had no reason to celebrate, and they hadn’t needed any. There had been no grand occasion to warrant its opening, nor any justification to drink a bottle of scotch that could fetch a fair sum on the market. But perhaps it had been the alcohol that made it so tempting, a mere cherry atop a most delightful cake that would sweeten the taste of reality they had so despised. They had shared a glass, and then another, and then another. They sat upon their antique leather sofa — brown and worn from years of use, but comfortable nonetheless — in contemplative silence, staring into the fire with a great sense of detachment from the world beyond their door.

Marley felt the buzz of his phone tucked comfortably in his trouser pocket, the soft vibration against his leg breaking him out of his trance. He withdrew the device and glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing at the urgent message displayed upon it.

To: jacob.marley@gmail.com Subject: C-Suite Executive Replacements Dear Mr. Jacob Marley, Per our previous discussions in the meeting last month and the immediate termination of our COO, CMO and CTO, I am pleased to inform you that the new appointments for these positions have been selected. They have been considered with careful consideration for their aptitude, experience, and potential compatibility with Asplex Industries. As requested, over the next three days, both yourself and Mr. Scrooge will be speaking to each of them individually to discuss their roles and responsibilities as well as to assess their suitability for these key positions.  Please find below the schedule for the introductory meetings: Chief Operating Officer: December 22nd, 10:00 AM Chief Marketing Officer: December 23rd, 10:00 AM Chief Technology Officer: December 24th, 10:00 AM Attached is documentation and background information regarding each candidate. We do hope you will take them into consideration. Regards, Tristan Grantham Chief Human Resources Officer Asplex Industries

Marley sighed, setting the phone aside for the moment as he reached for his glass which had been half-empty for quite some time. “Looks like we’ll be busy, Ben. The new executives are set to join us over the next few days for introductory meetings.”

“Couldn’t we observe them all at once and make a quick decision?” Scrooge muttered, the effects of the scotch evident in his slurred words and flushed cheeks and gentle sway in his seat.

His husband, who had always been the more tolerant of the vices, shook his head. “And risk having all of our other responsibilities pile up when we entertain these newcomers? We could be inviting in serial killers for all we know.”

“Better to be disrupted than to be inefficient.”

“And better to be inefficient than to be careless.” Marley poured out more of the amber liquid into their glasses with one hand, sending a brief yet swift message with his other. “I requested our schedules to be completely cleared so we could focus on these appointments. We’ll do it one at a time, Ben; it’s more thorough that way.”

“Fine, then.” Scrooge relented, more amicable now than he had been in his mildly intoxicated state. “Hopefully they’ll be far more competent than the previous lot.”

The sentiment had been shared between them, and a valid one it had been. They’d made the mistake of being too lax when it came to the appointment of their previous executives, opting instead to pass the matters of recruitment to an external firm who promised the best candidates. An external firm that, thanks to ruthless efforts and the wondrous world of extortion, coercion and intimidation, had mysteriously vanished from the market. Scrooge and Marley had been more than happy to take the incompetence of their C-suite executives to the media, hiding those sadistic smirks as the BBC gobbled up the folder that just happened to cross their desks one morning. It had been almost too easy to make their previous COO, CMO, and CTO the sacrificial lambs to the corporate wolves, firing them with all the grace and sympathy of a ravening pack of piranhas, but who would miss them? Scrooge and Marley certainly wouldn’t.

Thoroughly inebriated in their rare fine indulgence and bottle completely emptied of its contents, Scrooge and Marley clamoured their way up the steps, shedding their attires and letting them fall to the ground in a careless heap haphazardly formed on their bedroom floor, not bothering to freshen up until the morning. Scrooge still held enough sobriety to take in the nightly duties of checking each room to see if all was as it should. There were no monsters under the bed, or hiding in the closet, or wearing invisible cloaks in the corner of the room.

And when he returned to the bedroom, Marley had already begun to undress, tie and suit tossed onto a chair somewhere, trousers pooling at his feet and dress-shirt loose against his frame. He reacted not when Scrooge joined him in his ritual, mimicking his movements with a practised position. And in their shared silence, when Scrooge had at last relieved himself of his shirt, Marley came up from behind him, movements gentle and languid as he leaned in against his husband, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

“Jacob…” Scrooge warned, though his wall of resistance had begun to crumble as fast as he had tried to build it when Marley nuzzled closer, his lips grazing against his earlobe. “We… We can’t…”

His protests fell on deaf ears as Marley hushed him, neither of them fully understanding how they managed to land themselves onto the bed with the blur of movements they would never fully remember in the morning. And when — perhaps in the way in which their lips pressed together in a passionate embrace, or the way they tangled themselves under thin sheets, or the way they whispered each other’s names with fervour, or the way they wrestled control from each other in such a way that Heracles himself would baulk at — they disappeared into the night's embrace, they did so with the knowledge that no one else in the world would ever know them as intimately as they knew each other.

Tagged: @rom-e-o @ray-painter @crimson-phantom-designs @quill-pen

[emiliosandozsequence]

talk about ur ocs

OKAY SO. i'm going to talk about the ones from sparrow rather than nebulous, since i'm working on sparrow right now, bUT

the sparrow family are the leaders of the town of the same name, which was founded in the 1890s under a shroud of suspicion of some creature living in the surrounding woods (called the thistlehatch forest).

father cesare sparrow is the main character and the eldest son. he was forced into the priesthood by his father and doesn't really believe in g-d or even like him. he doesn't get along with his younger brother, cole, but he still loves him deeply, and he is in love with his twin sister, loa. he drinks and self-harms a lot. think cesare borgia mixed with dean winchester. my fc for him is francois arnaud, specifically in the film the man who was thursday.

loa sparrow is the eldest and only daughter and the twin sister of cesare. she starts off very enigmatic; it's implied that she knows things she shouldn't and has a very innocent air to her despite the things she's been through and that have been done to her at the hands of her father. this is only added to when she gets stigmata. think very christine daae mixed with lucrezia borgia. my fc for her is olivia hussey in romeo and juliet.

cole sparrow is the youngest of the sparrow siblings and doesn't really have as close of a relationship to his siblings as they have with each other. he's more often out drinking and doing drugs, while hanging out with his other rich friends. he also loves to draw and has a rivalry with cesare that is more borne out of cesare hating cole for things that aren't his fault. cole is very roman godfrey mixed with roman roy (except more lowkey than roman roy is). my fc for him is bill skarsgard; specifically in season 3 of hemlock grove.

father douglas sparrow is a priest and the tyrannical leader of the family. he's also the religious leader of the town itself. he's very regal because he thinks of himself and his family as royalty. think logan roy only worse somehow because he's mixed with leland palmer. he's extremely abusive to his two eldest children, but mainly ignores his youngest child. my fc for him is jeffrey dean morgan in the unholy.

and finally, the mother, minnie sparrow. not much is known about her because she's missing before the story begins. she went missing when the twins were 12 and cesare feels her ghost haunts the master bedroom of their home. my fc for her is holly hunter in batman v superman.

if you want to know anything specific about any of them pls let me know!!

[jamiemarsters]

Pic of the Day: @realjamesmarsters intently regaling us with Romeo & Juliet #JamesMarsters #RomeoAndJuliet #Shakespeare #OKButJamesInHisReadingGlassesIsCuteAF #AmIRight?! #EspeciallyWhenRegalingUsWithRomeoAndJuliet #Cute #AF https://www.instagram.com/p/CqHL0-VhXPh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jmunneytumbler]

'Arthur the King' is Testing My Mettle!

'Arthur the King' is Testing My Mettle!

Arthur? Arthur! (CREDIT: Carlos Rodriguez/Lionsgate) Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Simu Liu, Juliet Rylance, Nathalie Emmanuel, Ali Suliman, Ukai the Dog Director: Simon Cellan Jones Running Time: 107 Minutes Rating: PG-13 Release Date: March 15, 2024 (Theaters) Did Arthur the Dog make me want to be a king, or at least feel like a king? If Arthur the King is to be believed, then a regal disposition is…