#my bookshelf has three shelves. two shelves i’ve read. the bottom i haven’t and there’s most of the top shelf double stacked with more unrea

[ierogenvy]

i’m a little weird huh.

[officialscaramouche]

Companions

pairing: Chongyun x Xingqiu

summary: After being transported to ten years in the future, Xingqiu finds the harbor in disarray. Desperate to find answers, he sought out his best friend, Chongyun, to no avail. Chongyun's home, too, is found falling apart and Xingqiu realizes that his friend is gone as well. He takes the opportunity to reminisce by going through Chongyun's room when a strange man wearing the exorcist clan's colors walks in.

warnings: none

word count: 4,522

also posted on ao3!

Ch. 2 of 5 < prev | next >

Xingqiu looks at the back of the stranger in front of him. They’re tall, about as tall as his older brother. His shoulders aren’t broad, but they’re wider than the average. The man wore a pristine, white Wudang robe with a strikingly familiar navy blue clan banner that hung beneath the shirt. He donned a hood that loosely hung from his head, blue and gold trim that lined the outfit. “Your wear…” Xingqiu hushed, stepping forward slightly and reaching out subconsciously. “These colors...the pattern...why do you wear them?”

The man turned to look over his shoulder slightly, his hood hiding all but his nose that peeked out from behind the fabric. “Because it is mine.” He says curtly, turning back to face the inside of the drawer.

“Are you a fanboy?” The stranger asked after a moment.

Xingqiu was taken off guard, pulling his hand back. “Of the Taoist exorcist clan? No—”

“No, of Xingqiu. The author of the Cursed Claymore series.” The man pulled out a box and placed it gently on the table. He tinkered with the locking mechanism for a moment before popping it open and pulling objects out.

“What? I am Xingqiu. Heir to Feiyun Commerce. Apprentice of the Guhua Martial Arts Clan.” The man stilled, his hands halting their search within the box. He turned, fully this time, facing Xingqiu. The boy couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Feiyun Commerce went under almost half a decade ago. And the Guhua Clan is extinct.”

Xingqiu placed a hand over his mouth, tears welling in his eyes as he was hit by a surge of turbulent emotions. “Y-You!”

“This is not funny, fanboy. I know Xingqiu personally. He would never trespass into my family’s home like this!”

Xingqiu sticks a thumb into his chest. “I am Xingqiu! Heir to Feiyun Commerce and apprentice to the G-Guhua...Believe me! I don’t know what’s going on! Chongyun, you have to help me get back home!”

The man takes a defensive stance, pointing harshly at the scholar. “How do you know my name?!”

“Because I am Xingqiu! Your best friend, Xingqiu!”

“Quit playing with me! What do you mean by ‘home?!’ Your home at the harbor is gone!”

“I mean that I was reading this book and then— and suddenly, I was here! Not home! Liyue Harbor was normal! I had just left home, I just spoke with my father! I was waiting for you, and then— please! I don’t know!”

The older, battle-worn Chongyun lowered his shoulders, his eyes sharp as he watched Xingqiu closely. “This book— let me see it.” Xingqiu meekly extends the book forward, Chongyun swiping it roughly from his hands. The exorcist begins flipping through it carefully, his eyes scanning the pages.

Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Xingqiu watched nervously. “I-I don’t know what it says. I can’t read it…”

“This is enochian,” Chongyun states as he continues to read the book.

“You can read it?”

“No. But I recognize it. Many evil spirits use enochian to communicate with the living, but it’s mostly used for demonic practices.” Xingqiu swallows, looking to his fingers as he toyed with them nervously. “Where did you get this?”

“Ah...Wanwen this morning.”

“The bookstore? Near the tea house?”

“Yeah, my favorite one.”

Chongyun eyed Xingqiu suspiciously before returning to the book. “I can see why you called this a diary.”

Xingqiu perked up, walking towards the exorcist, grabbing onto his arm to peer over onto the pages. “What can you read?”

Chongyun grimaces at the sudden intrusive touch, but points to the book. “It’s written from the author’s point of view. Here it’s talking about meeting with a medium. Something about someone dying. But it could be anybody. In my experience, this demon only seems to seek out exorcists and mediums.”

Xingqiu pouts, furrowing his brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Chongyun shoves Xingqiu off his arm and closes the book, pressing it into the scholar’s chest. “I don’t know, you tell me, fanboy.”

“I’m telling you! This is the custom-made outfit that I got measured for back when I learned I was to be the heir!”

Chongyun smirks and crosses his arms. “You know your stuff. I wonder where you read that.”

Xingqiu stomped his foot and shook his finger in Chongyun’s face. “I’m serious!!”

Chongyun rolled his eyes and turned back to look into the box he found. “Okay ‘Serious,’ help me look for something.”

Xingqiu sat back on the bed and crossed his legs, turning his nose upward. “No.”

Chongyun sighed and dropped his head. “Maybe you really are Xingqiu because nobody’s got an attitude like him.” Xingqiu smiled proudly to himself at the half-insult. “But fine. You’d only get in my way anyways.”

“No! I can help!”

“I don’t want your help.”

Xingqiu skipped over to the exorcist and peered into the box. “What are you looking for?”

“Some lecture notes. The last time I was here I had to quickly seal everything up.” The older man gives Xingqiu a knowing look. “But I figured that since it’s already broken I might as well look for what I need.”

“Lecture notes? Why?”

“Because this is no normal you hun ye gui. And...frankly I didn’t pay attention to my lectures. Ugh, it’s not here.” Chongyun slammed the box shut and moved over to his bookshelf, noting the adult novel laying on the floor. Chongyun gave Xingqiu a glare, but the scholar looked away and whistled, pretending to not notice.

Chongyun pulled out some textbooks and journals. He flipped through them hurriedly, throwing them to the side haphazardly when they proved of no import. “You should treat those texts a little better,” Xingqiu tutted, picking up the books and dusting them off, placing them gently on the drawer.

Chongyun rolled his eyes. “‘You should treat those books better,’” he mocked.

“When did you get so grumpy.”

“I’ve always been grumpy. I just never voiced it when I was a kid.”

Xingqiu crossed his arms. “No, you’re not grumpy. And you have a pretty fine time expressing your feelings to me.”

Chongyun stood, dropping the last notebook to the floor after learning nothing about what he needed. “You think you know it all, don’t you fanboy?” Chongyun pushed past the young scholar and stalked out of the room.

“Hey!” Xingqiu shouted out, running after the exorcist. “Where are you going?”

“To the study,” Chongyun replies, not looking back as he made his way down the stairs. Xingqiu follows behind him, quickly making his way down, watching Chongyun turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

Xingqiu was a little giddy. He’d never seen the clan’s study before but Chongyun always complained that it was ‘too big’ and had ‘too many books to read,’ so he imagined it was a second heaven for him right after Wanwen. Boy was he wrong.

It was better than he imagined. He watched as Chongyun pushed the heavy wooden door, the bottom scraping the planks of the floor. “Stupid door,” Chongyun hissed, kicking it. Xingqiu walked in with large glassy eyes, his mouth hanging open. “Close your mouth before you breathe in too much dust,” Chongyun said, wiping his nose with his shirt after sneezing.

“This collection is incredible!” Xingqiu looked the walls up and down. The walls were made of inset shelves. The only space not lined with books was where the two small circular windows sat. Even the floor was littered with books, as the shelves were all fully stacked with two or three rows of tomes laying on each shelf. “You read all of these?”

“Unfortunately,” Chongyun sneers, pulling up a wooden stool. “Can’t say I remember any of them that I don’t practice.”

Xingqiu climbed the nearby ladder and began to run his fingers down each spine. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come over more!”

“They’re boring. And these books are only used for studying exorcism. My dad wouldn’t have let you in anyways.” Chongyun slams a book onto the desk below him. “Ugh, not here either…”

“I would’ve paid him to let me— wait so you believe me now?”

“About what?”

“That I’m the real Xingqiu.”

Chongyun laughs. “Oh, no. But it’s nice to pretend.” Chongyun gets down from the stool and walks around, eyeing the titles of the books he walks past. “I haven’t spoken to Xingqiu in almost a year.”

Xingqiu looks back to Chongyun, a frown on his face. “Why not?”

“Hm. We’re both busy. We both have lives.”

“But I love spending time with you.”

Chongyun pulls out another book and flips it open. “You also have a career. Like I do.”

Xingqiu jumps down the ladder and meanders over to the exorcist. “Can you tell me about myself? Like what I’m doing now?”

Chongyun points to the ladder. “No. Help me look, please.”

Xingqiu stomps his foot. “Why! I just want to know!”

“Because you should know already, fanboy. I’m looking for anything on the topic of guidance talismans, unique talismans, stubborn demons, and demons that don’t kill. Well, don’t kill normally.”

Xingqiu huffs and rolls his eyes, walking to a random shelf to start looking for any book that hints at any of those topics. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re annoying.”

Xingqiu stares blankly at the books in front of him. “Do you mean that?”

“Absolutely.” Chongyun turns from the shelf and walks to the desk, opening the drawers.

“Have you always thought of me like that?”

Chongyun stops, purses his lips and stares at the ceiling. “No, Xingqiu was never annoying to me. But you, you’re annoying.”

“I am Xingqiu!”

“Whatever.”

The two search for books in silence for a period before Chongyun breaks the silence. Xingqiu has a small stack of books that might have something important. “Aha!” Chongyun slaps a small scrap of paper onto the desk. “Fanboy, come see this.”

Xingqiu picks up his stack of books and trudges over to the desk. “What is it? Who drew that? It’s horrible.”

Chongyun flicks the scholar. “I did.” He flattens out the wrinkled paper. “It’s the talisman I’m looking for. It’s a guidance talisman. They’re very rare and very difficult to make. It takes a master exorcist to make one, and most masters can’t make one.”

“Are you a master exorcist?”

“No...my mom was, though. The strongest in my family...but not even she could make one.”

“What do you need it for?”

Chongyun grabs the book at the top of Xingqiu’s stack, pushing it to the side after reading the title. He picks up the next, and does the same thing. “Do you have Demons, Deities, and the Paranormal? By Po Lang.”

Xingqiu looks at the books quickly. “No, let me look.”

Chongyun grabs his wrist. “No, it’s okay. The you hun ye gui is a lost soul. They’re easy to quell when you know who the soul is and what keeps them here with the living. But this you hun ye gui has been lost for a long time. I doubt any of its relatives are alive or remember who it was. Without that person’s belongings or without knowing what it wants, I can’t send the soul on to the afterlife. I need a guidance talisman to guide it.”

Xingqiu looks at the books he has and opens the one he has on talismans. “Have you encountered this demon already?”

Chongyun crumples the paper in his fist and hangs his head. “Yes...for a very brief moment.”

Xingqiu looks at the exorcist with worry. “Is that when…”

“Yes. I was coming home from a job in Sumeru...I hadn’t seen my family in months. My mom wrote me a letter saying that she’d make my favorite food when I got home. I was looking forward to it.” Chongyun chews his lip, fighting back tears. Xingqiu stood in silence. “When I got here, my cousin Lam was the only one alive...it killed him as soon as I saw them. I chased after it, but it feared my yang energy and got away. I didn’t want to go too far, anyways. My family was scattered across the yard.”

Xingqiu looks out the window and eyes the freshly dug mounds. Chongyun must’ve buried them, he thinks. “I-I’m sorry, Chongyun…” Xingqiu wiped the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

“You just missed it. This was, what, not even a week ago?”

“And that’s why you’re looking for it, right?”

“Yes. I need to send that demon on. It already tormented the harbor. Everyone fled three years ago.”

“Ah...that’s why it’s empty.”

“And that’s why my family stayed here. This you hun ye gui is stuck in this area. It won’t go anywhere else. The harbor was always a lively area, there’s no way I’d be able to find the one thing it wants.”

“If there isn’t anything here, what can we do to stop the demon?”

Chongyun looks towards the windows in thought. “There’s a library Xingqiu told me about near Wangshu Inn. Very well-hidden. He said he found volumes of very specific, niche topics. Maybe we can find something there?”

Xingqiu nodded, pushing the rest of the books in his stack to Chongyun. “Here’s what I’ve found so far. Look at these, I’ll keep looking.”

Xingqiu climbed back up the ladder and began pulling books one by one, reading the title, checking for an index, and reading a little bit of each text. Chongyun watched the young scholar for a moment, chuckling, before inspecting the books in front of him.

Chongyun kicked the heavy door again as he walked in, throwing back the cup in his hand. “Here,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tapping Xingqiu’s shoulder with the other cup in his hand.

“Ah, thank you,” Xingqiu grins, dabbing his sleeve onto his forehead, gathering the sweat there.

“Really, you can stop now. I accepted a commission in that area, so we have to go anyway.” Chongyun leaned back on the desk and crossed his feet, taking another sip from his drink.

Xingqiu dropped the book in his lap dramatically and slouched forward, letting out a loud throaty groan. “I’m finally onto something, I swear!”

“Look at you!” Chongyun gestured vaguely to the mess that Xingqiu sat in: scrolls rolled out in every direction, open books stacked on other opened books, a stain in the wood where he spilled the ink pot, his shoes and socks off and discarded in different corners of the room. “Get up, we gotta go.”

Chongyun hooked his arms underneath Xingqiu’s pits and dragged him to the door. “No! I’ve a lead!”

“Ah!” Xingqiu tripped over himself for possibly the hundredth time this afternoon. Chongyun grabbed a firm hold on the young boy’s forearm before he fell and split his head open.

Pushing the scholar forward, Chongyun smacked the back of his head. “I told you to stop kicking rocks! Quit it, you’re like a child!”

“I am a child!” Xingqiu slaps the exorcist pathetically in the chest. He furrows his brow and looks Chongyun up and down, pulling his hand back hesitantly before gently pushing back again.

“What.” Chongyun growls, grabbing Xingqiu’s wrist.

“Hm. You’re...firm.” The boy turns on his heels and proudly stomps away.

Chongyun smiles, albeit confused, and checks the ad he picked up on a bulletin. Please! I need someone to free me from the terror! Six hilichurls have made camp along my route in the Guili Plains! Halfway to Wangshu Inn, near the ruins! Chongyun looked at his surroundings. “Hey--”

Xingqiu widely swung his arms as he walked. “Do you think I can grow muscle? How did you get your muscles?” Chongyun wrapped an arm around Xingqiu’s waist and half-threw the boy off the road. Xingqiu rolled in the loose dirt, hitting his head on the ground. “Hey!” He shouted, rubbing the back of his head. “Why’d you--” Above him, Chongyun held a wide stance, his back hunched as he held up his claymore.

Chongyun’s clan’s banner blew gently, the blue and gold contrast beaming off the sunlight. “Stay down! The commission--” A hilichurl leapt out from a nearby bush, holding it’s fists high above it’s head. Chongyun quickly held up the side of his blade, blocking the attack. “Eugh!”

Chongyun swings his blade to the side, shoving the hilichurl aside. Chongyun jumps, slamming down his blade onto the hilichurl. It dodges with a roll, and leaps once more toward Chongyun. It tackles him, encouraging the other hilichurls to jump from hiding. “Chongyun!” Xingqiu darts out and unsheathes his sword, striking one of the hilichurls on top and pinning it to the ground. It squirms beneath him as Xingqiu holds it down with a foot, pulling the blade out of the hilichurl’s chest, and piercing it’s skull. Behind him, Chongyun grunts, grabbing his attention.

Chongyun swings his claymore upwards, sending a gust of icy wind that sends the hilichurls’ bodies hurling. Of the four, three lay motionless on the ground. The remaining one weakly crawls away, grasping for grains of dirt for support. Chongyun lugs his claymore over his shoulder as he stalks over to the last hilichurl. He raises his claymore by the hilt with both hands, bracing himself with a wide foot stance. Xingqiu looks away when Chongyun plunges the blade downwards.

The hilichurls begin to dissipate one by one, turning into black and red dust. Xingqiu places both hands on the ground to support him as he stood up. Chongyun stepped up in front of the boy and extended a hand to help him to his feet. “Thanks for your help.”

Xingqiu sheaths his sword and dusts off his shorts. “You still use the same claymore.”

With a wave of his hand, Chongyun’s blade vanishes. “Are you still trying to convince me that you’re really Xingqiu?”

“No,” Xingqiu sorted his messy hair, slipping his long bangs out of his face. “I just thought you’d use the one your mom gave you.”

Chongyun lowers his gaze as he thinks of the birthday gift. His mother gave him her favorite sword when he finally donned the title of exorcist and was able to do jobs on his own. “It means too much to me,” he explains. “I ended up giving it to you to take care of.”

Xingqiu puts a finger to his chin. “Me?”

Chongyun smiled shyly, scratching his neck. “Ahem, Xingqiu I mean. He doesn’t go out much anymore.” The exorcist waved his hand forward. “Come on, let’s start looking for the library.”

Xingqiu beams, eyeing the exorcist knowingly. “Where did I say this library was?”

“Uh, near some ruins. It was hard to understand him because he was really excited.”

Xingqiu puts his fists on either hip. “I am so smart and I know everything!”

“Except how to shut up and be helpful!”

Xingqiu covered the sun from his eyes with a hand, peering into the distance. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Chongyun opened his map and turned it every which way. “Sure. I’ll humor you this time.”

“Do I have a girlfriend?”

Chongyun turns and glares at the boy. “Really?” Xingqiu nodded expectantly. Sighing, Chongyun put a hand on his waist and looked to the sky in thought. “Not right now— he did before, though, when he first inherited the company.”

Xingqiu jumped up and grabbed Chongyun’s hand. “Was she pretty? What’s her name! Why did we break up?”

Chongyun pulled his hand back and laughed. “She was alright, but he thought she was pretty. That’s all that mattered.” Xingqiu waited expectantly for him to continue. “Uh...he was too busy to have a relationship. She wanted all of his time but he didn’t have any to give her. He hasn’t dated since. He says he’s just not interested.”

Xingqiu puffs his cheeks in a pout. “That’s lame! Are you sure he’s the real me?”

“Are you sure you’re the real Xingqiu? He’s more mature than he was before. Besides, he likes his solitude now.”

Xingqiu stomps his feet as he walked on, Chongyun closely behind. “I bet I wished you came over more.”

Chongyun rolled up his map and slapped the back of Xingqiu’s head. “He understands that I’m busy. Now enough, we have to find this library. Keep an eye out for a camp so I can collect this commission. It’s weird, though, that there were only five hilichurls. The ad said six.”

Xingqiu, walking a bit ahead, points to the distance. “What’s going on over there?”

“Huh?” Chongyun squints to see further.

“It looks like...a man? And—”

“And the you hun ye gui!!”

Chongyun breaks into a sprint, summoning his claymore once more into his right hand. “W-Wait!” Xingqiu scrambles as he chases after the exorcist.

The book didn’t describe the you hun ye gui— at least, what he could read. So he wasn’t sure what it would look like...but he was terrified. The demon was huge, standing three feet taller than the man there, and as wide as half a house. The demon was dark brown and black, with bright yellow eyes. Horns stuck out of its head, claws growing out of its fingers. He felt himself tremble as he got closer.

He watched as the demon swiped its right hand and knocked the man back, throwing him to the side. Chongyun let out a feral shout as he threw his claymore over his shoulder to swing it forward with a mighty force. “Ch-Chongyun! Be careful!”

The demon looks at Chongyun and roars, shaking the ground with its strength. But, after sensing the overwhelming amount of yang energy, the demon runs away instead of staying to fight the exorcist. “You bitch! Come here!” Chongyun stops abruptly before the man laying on the ground and watches the demon take off over the hills. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Chongyun bites to himself, kneeling down to check the man’s wounds. “Are you alright?”

Xingqiu stumbles up to the two, panting. “Chongyun…” he breathes. “Please be careful!”

“It ran away! Like a coward!”

“Still!”

The man on the ground coughs up blood, groaning in pain. Xingqiu pulls his hair behind his ears and kneels down. “We’re gonna help you, stay still—”

“No,” the man waves his hand frantically. “I’m not going to make it. Please—”

Chongyun cradles the man’s head as he lays him down. “Where are you hurt?”

“Really, I don’t want the help!”

“Who are you?” Xingqiu asks, pressing two fingers to the man’s wrist.

“My name is Zhang Wei, I’m a medium.”

Chongyun quirks an eyebrow and fishes into his pocket. Xingqiu smiles warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Zhang Wei. I’m Xingqiu, heir to Feiyun--”

Chongyun hangs the ad in front of Zhang Wei’s face. “Zhang Wei, I completed your commission, I ask for pay.”

Zhang Wei laughs, raising his brows at the exorcist. “I have no money.” Chongyun scowls and stands, balling his fists at his side. “You’re an exorcist. You know why I have no money, boy. Look, you’re desperate for some too.”

Chongyun crumples up the ad and throws it at the medium. “Don’t hang ads if you can’t pay for the job.” The exorcist turns to walk away, stopping before taking the first step. He fists his pocket and takes out a small satchel. He throws it to the scholar. “Herbs. For the pain.”

Xingqiu looks at the little mesh satchel, tied with a blue silk ribbon. He finds it nostalgic despite never seeing it before. He unties the satchel, ushering for Zhang Wei to show him the wound. “It won't hurt for much longer,” he sings, rubbing the herbal paste on his wounds.

Xingqiu turns in circles, scanning the orange horizon for Chongyun. “Chongyun!” He calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Chongyun!!” Xingqiu made his way to the top of a hill for a better vantage point; from there he spots Chongyun sitting around some rocks looking at the sunset. “There you are,” he sighs, skipping down the hill.

Chongyun stared at his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked to the side when he heard Xingqiu’s delicate footsteps. Xingqiu takes a seat by his feet. “Are you deaf now, too?” He chides, elbowing his leg.

“Sorry,” Chongyun breathes, turning his head away.

“Oh, no I was just joking.”

“No, I’m sorry for leaving you behind. First when I saw the you hun ye gui, and again when Zhang Wei had no money for me.”

Xingqiu gently rubs Chongyun’s arm. He flinches a little, but lets him touch him. “Don’t worry about it! You chased after the you hun ye gui because you’re upset. I can tell that you’re a little more accepting of your emotions. It was hard to tell what you were feeling back when you and I were the same age.”

“No, it’s not that…” Chongyun trails off, taking in a deep breath. “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Xingqiu presses. “I may not be the real Xingqiu anyways.”

Chongyun snorts, rolling his head to the side. “You’re a damn good fanboy, you know that?” Xingqiu grins, entertaining his older friend.

“Come on, tell me.”

“Ah, fine.” Chongyun slides off the rock and sits beside Xingqiu on the grass, staring into the setting sun. “The advice Xingqiu gave me...when we were younger. You know, about my yang energy. Instead of trying to reduce my yang energy, I should find a demon that’s immune to it.” Xingqiu nods. “Well...I did. It had been years after I was already considered a full-fledged exorcist. We were both grown adults at this point. I...got too confident. And I got really hurt. It left me...unable to work. I had to stay home in bed and rest.” Xingqiu frowns as he watches Chongyun talk, observing his expressions and listening to the tone of his voice. “This time, you were too busy for me. I kept asking for you to come by but you were always doing something. I was just so bored by myself in the bed.” Chongyun stops to chuckle. “The one time you came by, it was for fleeting minutes. You simply said hello, apologized for not coming over more, and gave me medicine. The same medicine you gave to Zhang Wei…”

“Well, if you needed it, why didn’t you use it!” Xingqiu puffed out his cheeks. “I oughtta have a talk with me!”

Chongyun ruffled Xingqiu’s hair playfully. “It’s okay. I like seeing him busy. I like knowing that he’s happy and not bored. But still...I do miss him. And that’s why I kept it instead, because I don’t get to see him often.”

Xingqiu stood abruptly. “Let’s go see me.”

“Huh?” Chongyun looked up at Xingqiu with a surprised look.

Xingqiu bent down and picked up Chongyun’s hand. “Come on! Where do I live?”

Chongyun unwillingly got up, slouching meekly as Xingqiu dragged him forward. “But let’s look for the library first.”

Xingqiu pulled the exorcist’s arm. “We can ask me about it when we get there!”

[herondaleholly31]

The Book Swap  Chris Evans X Reader

Overview: You and Chris read your favourite books to each other 

A/N.....It’s been 84 years. No seriously it has been a LONG time since I’ve put something on here, but I’ve been taking a break writing imagines and I am beginning to love writing bigger projects. I’ve had lots of inspiration during lockdown however so those should start to come on here at some point. Thank you for continuing to show love to the rest of my imagines and I hope you like this one. If there’s any requests for both scenarios and people keep sending them to me and I’ll make sure to keep wokring through them :) 

Like and Reblog! 

Word Count: 2400

“Can we eat this in bed?” You jiggle the bowl of steaming pasta as you deliberately shuffle towards the bedroom. Chris looked up through his eyelashes and raised an eyebrow. 

“You want our bed to smell like meatballs?”

“But it will just make all of this perfect.” You pointed to the large windows which were dark and splattered with rain just as a flash of lightning lit up the skyline. Dodger whimpered nervously from his bed and gnawed further into the neck of his lion toy. “Dodger can hang out with us, and we can watch TV in bed and be nice and warm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Dodger?” You cooed and bent down to rub behind the dog’s ears, holding your food high so he couldn’t eat any of it. Dodger stretched and padded to Chris’ feet. Chris looked at you both and smiled with fake reluctance. “Okay, fine. Come on Bubba,” he picked up his bowl and slowly walked towards the door, making sure not to trip over Dodger’s bounding in delight. 

“Let’s just both promise we’re not going to spill anything,” Chris said jokingly, widening his eyes in a telling expression. 

You rolled your eyes. “It was one hot chocolate.” 

“And now there’s a stain that looks like someone pooed on one of the sheets.” Chris took your bowl and motioned his head for you the get into bed first. You turned on the fairy lights and lamps and dived underneath the puffy white duvet, wrapping it around your legs and hips while shifting it, so it was easy for him to get in too. Dodger sat at the end, his tail thwacking the air out of the duvet, eyes wide and staring at the food with longing. “No Bubba,” Chris warned as he gave you back your meal, “this isn’t for you. I’ve saved you some already.” 

“You made extra meatballs for the dog?” You shook your head in disbelief. Chris shrugged as if to to say of course I would and then gently pushed Dodgers sniffling nose away. You ate in silence watching the TV, the storm growing louder outside. As stomach full, you sank into the pillows, feeling so comfortable you never wanted to leave. Chris left only once to take the bowls away and bring in cups of coffee, but apart from that, he seemed to sink beside you.

“Is it alright If we turn off the TV?” You asked a little while later, “I’m in the mood to read.” 

“Yea, ‘course.” The TV went off, and you leaned over to your bedside table, shuffling further into the pillows as you got yourself comfortable to read. You had only read a few lines when Chris asked what you were reading. 

“A room with a view,” you showed him the cover. 

“Didn’t you read that at Christmas?” 

“Yea, but I was in the mood to reread it. Is that okay?” You jokingly confronted him, leaning closer to him feign intimidation. Chris copied you and gently pushed you on the forehead, so your head moved back. “I never understood the fun about classics.”

“Because they’re amazing stories.” 

“You can’t even understand them.” 

“Only smart people can.” 

“Oh, so are you saying I’m not smart?” 

“I don’t see your degree,” you pointed at your framed degree hung proudly by the bookshelf. 

“You mean the degree that’s next to my THREE shelves of awards?” Chris smiled cheekily as he pointed at the collection of statues glimmering in the soft light. “I don’t see your shelves there?” He laughed when you smacked him playfully with the book, leaning down to kiss you on the shoulder a couple of times. “We know you’re smarter than me.” 

“Thank you.” You moved closer to him, so he stayed propped up near you, breathing steadily as you went back to the story. He kept his head by your shoulder, sighing deliberately, so a gush of breath tickled the loose hairs around your neck. After a few minutes, you instinctively crumpled your ear into your shoulder, whinging at him to stop. 

“Sorry, sorry,” but his tone was edged with mirth. You tried to immerse yourself again, although this time Chris was starting to read lines out, intentionally dotting around the page, so your head began to swim. 

“…Was she was wrong in this, she asked herself, reviewing her conduct for the past week or two…” 

“Chris.”

“…she reflected, feeling rather sinister again, making Minta marry Paul…” 

“Please stop.” 

“….There was always a woman dying of cancer.” He frowned and shook his head. “This sounds so depressing.” You clapped a hand over his mouth, gritting your teeth as you smiled but muttering threats into his ear as he widened his eyes in phantom shock. “I swear you better shut up I’m trying to read.”

 “I love it when you talk dirty,” Chris mumbled behind your hand. 

“Are you going to stop?” You frowned. Chris nodded. Slowly, you pulled your hand away. Chris opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but with a quick “NO,” he closed it again. He halted for a moment, then spoke again. 

“What is it about this book that makes you love it so much?” 

“The writing is beautiful,” you sighed with content, “you don’t have to fully understand what E.M Forster’s saying because you FEEL what he’s saying through his words. He can perfectly describe a feeling which I’ve never been able to put into words. Like here,” you rapidly thumbed through the pages, stopping and jabbing at a line underlined in smudged pencil. “For that reason, knowing what was before them – love and ambition and being wretched alone on dreary places – she often had the feeling, why must they grow up and lose it all?” You shook the book in delight, expecting Chris to be just as excited. When he didn’t, your jaw slacked. “Isn’t that wonderful?” 

‘If you think it’s wonderful, then it must be,’ Chris shrugged. He pointed at the multitude of lines underlined in silver, gently moving underneath your hands to peer at the next few pages. “Why do you underline so much?” 

You bit the side of your cheek in an attempt to not sound embarrassed. “It depends. Sometimes it’s lines that are written really well or things that made me laugh; mostly it’s moments which make me love the book in particular. Like first kisses or when two people are reunited. Like here.’ Flipping the page, you read “‘this is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than love; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.’ Forster could’ve just said love is excellent, but this means so much more.”

“Uh, huh.” Chris was pretending to doze off on you, but when you retaliated by starting to shuffle away, he held you back. “Stop moving! you know I like how you pick up on those things.” He held his hand out as an invitation for the book, and when you handed it over, he flipped through the pages, reading the lines you’d memorised for so many years. “Is this how you feel? The way he writes?”

“Maybe not exactly. But I knew exactly what Forster meant by that last line because it made me think of you.” You enjoyed the way Chris’ face softened, the usually prominent bone structure hiding as his cheeks filled with a smile. 

“Maybe I should read it sometime if it means this much to you,” he mused, nodding slowly. “Even if it is all about ladies dying with cancer.” 

“Please do.” You half rolled over, your eyes drying out as you tried to look pleadingly at him. “I would die if you did that for me. I’ll read your favourite book if that persuades you.” You frowned. “I don’t even know what your favourite book is.” 

“Easy,” Chris said “Ferdinand the Bull.” 

“That’s a children’s book.” 

“So?”

“Well, it’s not exactly emotionally challenging.” 

“Hey, I cried at Ferdinand when I was a kid. Mom used to read it to us all the time. Didn’t you have Ferdinand in England?” 

“Probably, but my parents didn’t read loads to me.” 

“Aw man, you gotta read Ferdinand.” Chris swung out of bed, and half walked half skidded out of the room, Dodger tearing after him in excitement. You heard doors opening, lights being flicked on and bound books being dragged against wooden shelves, and then Chris came back down the corridor, turning to pick up the leg of Dodger’s stuffed lion and pulling both toy and dog back through the door. Dodger easily winning the tug of war sat underneath your vanity, chewing on his prize and Chris climbed back into bed, holding a battered picture book in triumph. It was obviously ancient. The red front cover had faded at the spine and at the edges due to sun exposure and a faint green stain which looked like paint coated the bottom. Chris still held it like it was a photo album and as he opened to the first page, he emitted a small gasp in wonder. 

“Oh my God, I haven’t read this in so long! Look, there’s my name.” He pointed at a scribble in the corner of the page, barely eligible. You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that he could’ve written a swear word and you wouldn’t have been able to tell. “It’s exactly how I remembered it,” Chris spoke fondly, and he adjusted the lamp by his head, so it shone brighter on the pages. “I’ve got to read this to Stella next time I see her,” at the mention of his niece he softened even more, and his expression went slightly gooey. 

“You can read it to me if you want,” you offered.

“You sure you don’t wanna keep reading your book?”

“Nah, I want to see what all the hype is about.” You gently closed A Room With A View and tapped on Chris’s arm, to which he lifted it up so you could lie between the pillow and his side. He shifted himself up so he could read and pushed your head to rest on his collarbone. “Can you see the pictures?” He spoke in a mocking baby voice but didn’t start until you’d stop shuffling and were comfy. Then he began to read, soft and slow at first but a couple of pages in he seemed to forget you were there. His voice started to rise and fall and get more expressive as he told the story of the bull who loved to smell flowers, and he laughed at the spindly drawings. You felt your eyes becoming droopy, and you shook your head to stay awake as he started to stroke your arm with the back of his hand, propping the book upon his knee so he could keep turning the pages. 

“…And for all, I know he is sitting there still, under his favourite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.” Chris nodded once in satisfaction, and the story was over. Putting the book on the floor, Chris shifted you slightly to rest back into him, smiling. “Did you like it?” 

“I loved it,” you nodded, my head bobbling slightly as it bumped over his collarbone, “I especially loved your animated voice halfway through.”

“Stella insists on giving each person a different voice, even if none of them actually speak. Apparently, it helps her ‘become friends with them.’”

“That’s going to be fun when you start reading her Harry Potter.” 

“Eh, it’s good to practise.” 

“For what?”

“When I get to read it to my own kids.” He laughed at your widened eyes and lips which had now pouted out in surprised, “are you getting a little emotional thinking about me with children?”

“No,” you lied. 

“Sorry, not my kids, OUR kids,” Chris’ eyes twinkled mischievously. You had to turn away then as a wave of motherly instinct you didn’t know was there filled your stomach, and your breath caught momentarily. “With their little curly hair and Boston accents.” 

“I’m going to have to sleep after this.”

“And we can read to them loads and eat spaghetti with them…”

 “you’re really mean, you know that,” you scowled, but you couldn’t help but see these children, running around in your mind in that teetering away all toddlers do on their chubby legs. 

“You know what will be great too?” 

“I swear if what you’re about to say is going to taunt me in my dreams-“

“Disney-world trips.” 

“For God’s sake, Chris!”

“They’ll be so cute though!” 

“Yeah well, now I’m going to dream about that.” You rolled over as if to try and sleep, but Chris rolled with you so now you were spooning, his knuckles continuing to stroke your skin in half soothing, half taunting way. “Our kids will be adorable,” you mumbled as you smiled into your pillow, “and they’ll love Ferdinand.”

 “And I hope they see the world like you do,” Chris peppered a couple of kisses behind your ear and down your neck and then turned off the last light, so the room plunged into darkness. Dodger was finally settled and asleep, and there was a moment of creaking as Chris settled back into the spot he was lying in. For a moment, there were only the sounds of breathing, but you were now wide awake. You felt your mind whirring away, and you didn’t know if you wanted to punch the man next to you or kiss him. 

“Okay so technically,” you spoke into the dark “we don’t want to have kids for a while.” 

“Right.” Chris agreed. 

“But there’s nothing wrong with practising.” You felt the arm around you tense suddenly, and his shadow popped up like an excited dog.

“No!” He cleared his throat. “No, there isn’t at all.”

“You said the Disney comment on purpose didn’t you?” You held a finger out as he leaned forward. Chris shrugged unapologetically and grabbed your arm to pull you on top of him, his chest already rising and falling quickly with anticipation.

“I might have done.” 

“Ooo, maybe I should go sleep in the spare room then,” you teased and started to wriggle off him, but with a low laugh, Chris’ hand moved from your arm to the back of your legs.

 “You’re not going anywhere,” his voice was gravelly as you became lost in each other. 

[happy-haunts]

The Hostess

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

I walked with Red and Constance behind me as I held my lamp up beside my head, leading them to a door that said ‘Cast Members Only’ and upon opening they were flooded with the overwhelming pinks, on my walls were several prominent heroes, princesses, magical girls, and fantasy posters. I had bookshelves filled with books- sitting atop them were the animes, manga, and novels of the characters on my walls if not more, hanging in a closet with black beads as curtains were cosplays and an assortment of pastel clothing, my bed was just a standard queen with regular pastel pink sheets(and a body pillow of a really hot anime girl), and last but not least my pink desk with my tiny chibi figurines, pink desk chair, pink headphones, and gaming set up.

I felt rather embarrassed that Red and Constance had to see this side of me but I attempted not to show it as I took a seat in my desk chair. Constance sat on my bed while Red kept standing- she seemed visibly uncomfortable in my room.

“Okay so pushing aside all of the questions I have about just this...” Red gestured to everything, “Maybe you can tell us how you managed to break Constances’ amnesia? Because that would be helpful in the future.”

“I can tell you that but it might involve alot more context.” I poked my fingers together nervously.

Red sighed and sat beside Constance on the bed, “Fine! Tell us your life story!” Constance gave a smile as she poked the body pillow.

❧

I am a twin, but my sister and I aren’t very close since she tends to be so depressing! She asks me if I want to know when I want to die, tells me the world is eternally doomed, and will sometimes quote outdated jokes from the internet. I’m the opposite to my sister, I read manga, cosplay, do seances in my room at 2am because I desperately want a date even if that means I need to sign a pact with a crossroads demon, and sometimes I actually drink the recommended amount of water in a day. Our home life was normal enough, we lived in the suburbs of California which could be kind of dreary at times with how sunny it is, so when my sister and I received a letter to work in a haunted mansion (TM) you could see how we would jump at the chance! It was a dream job for both of us! My sister would get to do more research in the powers of the undead and I could spend all day reading manga and messaging my devil boyfriend who won’t return my summons.

And that was that, I was sent to Liberty Square to await the inevitable rising of my undead ancestors and make sure they didn’t do anything damaging to anyone in or around the mansion.

When I arrived to the rather well-put together mansion I was greeted by a gentleman named Fletcher Hodges who was there to welcome me to the mansion. “Ah you must have been the Hostess assigned to the Liberty Square branch of Gracey manors?” He extended his hand for me to shake as I accepted it.

“Yes, I heard there would be ghosts...? Where are they?”

“Oh they haven’t risen just yet, but according to our calculations they should be due to show in a couple months - if they show at all.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts Mr. Hodges?” He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Not exactly, I know they exist since I’ve conducted many experiments and what I’ve recorded is that ghosts are seemingly everywhere - dozens of people who have unfinished business (or in this case cursed) roaming on a plane parallel to our own, but we are unable to see or interact with them without the aid of technology or a highly remarkable gift.”

“Wait if they can’t interact with us then what is the threat of this curse? They’ll all just exist on their own plane.”

“Ah, not exactly! I was reading up on this type of necromancy in ‘Necronomicon on the go’ and there is a footnote similar to this situation -it states that if an apparition gains the ability to raise the dead then it can have a dramatic side-effect, which may cause the user and those risen to exist in the same plane as us mortals while also having their spectral bodies.”

“Well that could be a problem.”

“And as a descendant of the Gracey bloodline we believe it is your responsibility to care for your elderly.”

“Would they really be considered elderly if they’re dead?” Mr. Hodges waved his hand at me and handed me an envelope as well as a box.

“Lets not get into the finer details, here is your first paycheck - you will receive one at the end of every week, and here is your uniform.”

“How will you know I’m even in uniform?” He looked at me with a stone cold expression.

“We know everything.” I raised my eyebrows - that was disturbing. “Now if you excuse me I need to be in Tokyo tomorrow - so I must get to the airport.”

“Wait, isn’t there anything you can give me? Maybe a spirit wrangling lasso?”

“I’m afraid not, but Leota’s headstone is out back so perhaps you can ask her once she’s risen.” He gave me a wave and walked back to his car.

“Well that’s not very helpful.” I opened the paystub and almost choked $400 for doing nothing in an empty mansion! “You know maybe I can figure something out.”

❧

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for these ghosts to appear - or if they even would - but I got started on my room almost immediately, painting the walls myself and buying cheap shelves so I could save up for the books and figures that I always wished I had enough money for.

I remember a very specific weekend when I was putting together a second bookshelf (I had filled the other one up already)and was out of uniform - it wasn’t anything awful just a pink shirt with fuzzy blue pajama bottoms. I heard a voice coming from the hallway and quickly threw on my uniform before walking out to investigate - but we will ignore the fact that I had forgotten I was wearing pink bunny slippers.

Walking down the hallway was a blue apparition, he shimmered like water, his wavy hair floating around his features.

“Emily?” He called, but when he turned his head he only saw me. “Who are you?”

“The Hostess - who are you?”

“William Gracey, is Emily here? Have I risen her?”

“I’m not sure? Maybe die again and come back later?” He gave me a skeptical look.

“I don’t think I can be killed again.”

“I could figure it out probably, I’ve been watching this show about two brothers who fight monsters and -.”

“I’ll stop you, I don’t care.” He then kept walking - mumbling something to himself.

“Maybe if it hasn’t worked you just need to try harder?” William glanced back to me with a dark glare- his glowing red eyes piercing me.

“Fine, why don’t I just raise the entire graveyard!”

“No, no, no, no!”

But I guess I hit a nerve because he raised everyone...

Ballroom dancers were swaying in the parlor, an undead horse charged down the halls, some guy kept throwing around hat puns and making his head appear in his hat suitcase - it was overall a mess.

“Perhaps this is better?” William smirked and disappeared into the walls.

“What a dick!” I shouted, but I had a job to do ... oh crap I had a job to do. “Well lets start with ... A catalog.” So I grabbed a spare journal and began to catalog all the names of of the inhabitants and a short description of them.

Constance Hatchaway : Attic bride - I walked into the attic to try and find that William guy who made my life 999 times harder than it needed to be, sitting on a chest was Constance.

“Hello? I’m making a catalog of ghosts in the mansion, could I get your name and if you can recall - a brief summary of your life?” She stood up and when she turned to face me I noticed the hatchet in her hand.

“Constance Hatchaway - the Hatchaway bride, I killed all of my husbands in life because they were trash.”

“Mhm, mhm, ma’am please set down the hatchet.” She looked at her hand and gave a little chuckle.

“I’m not going to do anything to you...” She sat back on a chest with her chin in her palm. “I just wish I had made some different choices when I was alive.”

“If it helps you have a whole afterlife to do things that you wanted to before? I can come back to talk more with you after the catalog is done?” She perked up and gave me a warm smile.

“That would be wonderful if you did.”

Hatty : origins unknown - I had begun to notice when I approached the inhabitants of the mansion over time a lot of them couldn’t much recall their lives, most of those in particular were quite old ghosts, I’m talking Egypt ghosts which made absolutely no sense! But the puzzling thing was when I approached Hatty - a rather skeletal looking apparition - he couldn’t recall his name, life, or death let alone recall the room he just came out of. I took it upon myself to just go ahead and write down a name for him, Hatty seemed rather suitable given that was his preferred pun.

Madame Leota : Psychic and Scorceress - When Leota finally appeared in her crystal ball she was rather puzzled, not knowing that she would be buried on Gracey soil -thus immortalizing herself within the curse.

“Just call me the Hostess.” Leota eyed me up and down before finally flashing a smile.

“Alright, so what else is it that you need of me?”

“I’m glad you asked, I need to have more power over the mansion’s ghosts than that William guy.”

“Well if you remain inside the mansion’s property you’re out of luck, I gave him all the powers he desires so long as he died and was forgotten.”

“Isn’t there some kind of loophole you can give me just in case this dick decides he wants to go on a power trip?”

“I suppose I could give you something to ward off his presence in a limited manner...” She made a lantern materialize before me, “When a candle is lit inside this lantern, any control William has over the inhabitants of this mansion will be lifted - as well as William cannot step foot into the light to do harm to any apparitions he may wish to hurt.”

“This is fantastic!”

“I could, however, give you all the powers I possess if you want to make a deal?”

“Nah that’s okay and anyway the groundskeeper has been complaining about not having a light at nighttime, so this can double as his little walking light.” I exited the seance room and began looking through my catalog - so far I recorded 998 ghosts, but I hadn’t ran into any named Emily? Maybe William’s attempt to bring this girl back from the dead really did fail?

❧

I walked along the large windows of the ballroom as I watched the dancers spin in circles, but something outside caught my eye - a glowing specter in the distance.

“I am not about to lose a ghost on my first day.” I grumbled and marched outside, it was further away than I expected - sitting atop a hill of wildflowers overlooking the river that reflected moonlight from it’s surface. “Hey! You’re too far from the mansion property, I’m going to need to escort you back inside until I see about drawing up some travel papers - because honestly I don’t think those hitchhikers are going to stay in one place very long.” I placed my hand on my hip with a sigh - I needed a raise.

“I danced with a boy on that river.” The ghost mused, her hair was a dark violet, skin purple, and wearing a white wedding dress with a matching flower crown that left petals scattered through her hair. “I remember that ... I remember everything...” She turned to face me, her eyes glowed blue unlike all the other ghosts, and on her chest was a bright red beating heart.

“I don’t think I’ve met you...” I mumbled, sitting beside her and pulling out my catalog. “What is your name?”

“Emily DeClaire, what is your name?” She adjusted herself so we faced each other.

“I’m the...” I blinked, my heart tugged in my chest as I was about to tell her my job description. “I’m Tera Normal.”

“Good to meet you! But you aren’t a ghost?” She hesitantly reached out her hands and passed them through my arm.

“No, I’m the Hostess I work here to try and keep all of you contained - seeing as you aren’t supposed to be on this plane but rather the one parallel to us.” I sighed “But William really missed you I guess and is looking for you.”

“Oh dear, well I can help in any way that I’m able!” She clenched her little hands into fists, smiling with determination. “But I suppose first I should go see William if he is missing me that much.” She bounced up in realization, “Oh! Is Mister Topper here too?”

“I don’t have a Mister Topper listed...” I furiously flipped through my catalog, “I have an Ezra Topper?”

“No, that’s just Mister Topper’s brother.” She gave a huff as another startling feeling came across my heart, I felt like it was breaking in two. “I suppose he can’t be here can he?”

“Not if he wasn’t buried here.” Another sharp pain pierced my heart. “But maybe William can sort this out?” Part of the aching lifted.

“Do you really think so?” She smiled at me then twirled into the air, “Okay! we can go see William, maybe he knows how to get my Topper back!”

But once we walked back into the mansion I noticed there was something strange going on with Emily. “So does this Mister Topper have a first name or is it just Topper?”

“Who?” Emily turned her gaze to me now.

“Um, Mister Topper? The guy you’re missing?”

“Topper... Top hat...” She mused- but was overcome when she thought about top hat and began crying. “He lost his head!”

“Whoa, okay what is going on with you?”

“Hurry back!” She screamed as her deafening heartbeat made the walls shake. “Please, Hurry back!”

“I’m right here, Emily...”

“Now look what you’ve done.” William scolded as he walked from the walls and wrapped his arms around Emily- who cried in his chest. “Hush, just forget and all the pain will be gone.” His hand slid over her head making her blink - a smile spreading across her lips.

“I can’t even remember what I was doing again, you must think I’m an air head.” She laughed to William, but tears were still streaking down her cheeks.

“What did you just do?” I hissed to the man, he glared at me - releasing Emily and lifting his hand to her.

“Emily can you give the Hostess and I some privacy?”

“Sure!” She sniffled and began floating down the hall, “I sure am crying a lot today.” William watched her disappear behind a door and then turned his gaze back to me.

“You can’t mention that name to her, where did you even hear it?”

“She told me his name! Are you the one making her forget? What is your problem!”

“It’s for her own good, you didn’t see her when she first came back ...” He closed his eyes and sighed, “She can’t remember, just trust me.”

“Well forgive me but I don’t trust you.” I lifted my lantern, reaching into my pockets to find some of the matches I stowed away.

“What you’re going to blind me?” He laughed and made a fist, slipping the hallway rug out from under my feet and knocking me to the ground, I clutched the lantern against me to keep it from breaking- William approached me now, I began crawling backwards in a panic. “I know, how about I have you join the mansion? We are just dying to have you!”

“Or you can shove it six feet under.” I lit up the match and ignited the lantern - shining it on William which pushed him backwards, I could see he was annoyed.

“Fine, you can do whatever it is you do - but leave Emily alone as well as make sure no one interferes with her memory, or there will be deadly consequences.”

“Just keep making death puns, I can sit here all day.” His cheeks glowed with a dark blue as he turned away and walked back into the wall. “He is SUCH a dick!”

❧

I sat at my desk and kicked my feet in my chair, Red and Constance looking at me with great interest. “Fast forward to today I had come across Hatty being crazier than normal, and whatever had been pushed on Hatty was spreading into the other ghosts - they didn’t seem to remember who they were or who I was! The ballroom ghosts were in a panic because they all forgot how to dance, and the Quartet forgot how to sing! So I lit my lamp and decided it was time to find the source - I ran from room to room till I came across you two! And now I know why the mansion is acting strange- because you two are prying into ghost business and William doesn’t want you to.”

“Well someone killed Emily and we think the murderer might *be* William, which means we need to confront him.” Constance had determination in her glowing yellow eyes, “Emily deserves better than to be played like a puppet.”

“Enough.” Came a deep voice, I turned quickly to my lamp to see the nub of my candle was out- the flame had been doused by the wax. “If you are all so curious to have a conversation then lets talk!” The voice boomed and my figurines were thrown across the room making me scream, books flying from the shelves, floor shaking, and lightbulbs bursting leaving us all in complete darkness other than the three glowing bodies before me.

Wait.

Three?

There he was, the first ghost I had laid eyes on when the mansion came to life.

“William?” I whispered in disbelief, Red seemed to be unaffected by this as though she might have guessed.

“What? Cat got your tongue? I thought you wanted to talk.” He grinned.

[ellynefics]

Sing Me My Destiny | Part Two

parts;; One | Two (you are here) | Three | Four | Five (coming soon)

genre;; medieval semi-fantasy; Royalty!AU

pairing;; Kihyun x fem!reader

plot;; 

Whisked away at a young age to live in a strange castle, you have no idea as to when you’re going home, and as the years pass, your hope all but disappears. One day, you are exploring the dark stone hallways when you hear a boy singing sweetly to himself behind a locked door.

Your friendship with the boy prince Kihyun develops, and as he regains his strength and–impossibly–his ability to walk, you find that love for him is blooming in your heart. Using an ancient ritual and strengthening bonds between princes and future kings, he begins to form an inner circle of loyal comrades and friends–a clan.

warnings;; fluff, smut to come in later parts

words;; 9180 (9.2k)

After that first, fateful meeting, you never had to worry about not being able to see Kihyun. His door was always unlocked, at his request. Though he was sometimes gruff, blunt and stubborn, especially when he wasn’t feeling his best, you sensed that he looked forward to your company. For you, too, the excitement you felt every day as you walked by the North Wing guards and made your way up to his room never faded. Though you still saw Seulgi and your friendship with her hadn’t weakened, she was growing up, too, and didn’t visit as often. Now you came to rely on Kihyun more. In the back of your head, you knew it was the same for him, too, but it wouldn’t be until later on that you would come to realize the full extent of this.

Conversation with the prince was, without fail, easy and laid-back. He was a professional at finding things to talk about. Oftentimes he asked you about your own home kingdom, and if you had heard any news. The answer was often no, but you were always happy to recount your memories to him. He particularly enjoyed hearing you talk about playing in the lavish gardens your parents kept, when the flowers were fully in bloom and nature alive with color.

“…and you should have seen the cherry and apple trees in the spring, when the birds were singing and there were butterflies everywhere. The scent and the sight was so beautiful. That was always my favorite time of year at home.”

Though you were sure you had told him this on at least fifty occasions, he never seemed to grow tired of hearing about it. The dazed, faraway look in his eyes was no different from the first telling. At first it had been a little disconcerting, but now he gazed at you with his chin in his palm. “And even the bees were so docile, you could hold them in your hand. Right?”

“Right.” You giggled. Sometimes if you left out a part you had mentioned to him before, he would repeat it back to you. That was something you had learned about him early on: he never forgot. It was even to the point that he remembered every word that had passed between you on certain days.

Steadily, with the sunshine and fresh air now constantly circling through his room, Kihyun started to look healthier. His cheeks took on a new glow, and his skin darkened a little. Most of all, though, his eyes glowed with the light of hope. You had helped him discover his authority and his confidence, and he ran with it, reveled in it. Now, you could truly believe that he was a prince, from the way he sat in bed, his speech, and his leaps and bounds in knowledge. (Not like he wasn’t already well-learned; he read a lot on top of tutoring with one Sir Taekwoon. What else was there to do all day in bed?)

It seemed that his health responded to this shift in attitude, too. When the doctor next visited, he was of course disappointed that his orders had been gone against, but then pleased that Kihyun did seem to be getting better.

Of course, like all sick people, his condition fluctuated. The first day this happened, you received a surprise, early-morning visit from an unfamiliar boy, wearing leather, the garb of a squire. He seemed to be only a couple years older than you, and his black hair was short and styled like the prince’s. His skin was tan and smooth, and though he had tried hard to get it off, his hands had a black tint to them. He must work with a forge. The boy’s plump lips twitched, and he took a knee. “His Highness Kihyun wishes to inform you that it would be unwise for you to visit today. Unfortunately, he has fallen ill and does not want you to catch his sickness."

“Thank you,” was your simple reply. Head still bowed, the messenger backed out and left you alone again. It was only when he had disappeared from view that your curiosity hit you. Who was that? How did he know the prince? You thought that Amberdin’s sick heir was a pretty well-guarded secret, so how would a forgehand boy be close enough to Kihyun to deliver his news?

So the next day, when he came back, you steeled yourself in preparation to ask.

“His Highness is unfortunately yet sick. I shall return when he is well enough for you to visit without worry. Until then, he will miss your company.”

You didn’t want to seem like you had ignored his message, so you quickly gave an understanding nod. Then, “Forgive me if I seem rude, sir, but who are you, and what is your connection to the prince?”

“My name is Shin Hoseok, but many call me Wonho, armory master’s apprentice and loyal servant to the kingdom of Amberdin. Kihyun and I have been close friends since childhood.”

Oh. Why hadn’t Kihyun told you about him before? His highness had mentioned having a small group of important friends around the palace, but never named any names. You wondered if this boy was lying, but something deep inside told you that he was sincere. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hoseok. Or would you rather I call you Wonho? There is no need to bow any longer.”

“Thank you, Princess.” The boy straightened up and smiled. His eyes had a pleasant sparkle. Many women here probably swooned over him, and how his muscles rippled under his tunic. “Either is fine.”

“What does the Prince call you?”

“Hoseok,” he replied; puzzlement crossed his face. “Why?”

“You really must be close with him, if both of you are on a first-name basis. In any case, I think I’ll opt for Hoseok, as well. Until I have reason to call you Wonho.” You were fully aware of the meaning of the secondary name: protector. In your kingdom, you had known a man called that; he had earned it.

“Of course, Princess.”

Three long days later, Hoseok finally returned to inform you that the Prince was doing much better. It was fine to start going and visiting again. Of course, you promptly did. You had been so lonely without Kihyun to talk to, though you understood that he worried for your health and he needed his rest. It was then that you realized that he meant a lot to you.

Soon after the two-year anniversary of meeting Kihyun, the doctors pronounced him free of pneumonia. This was a joyous occasion. That day, when you pushed open the door and announced your presence, he wouldn’t even let you finish your greeting because he excitedly cheered, “The sickness in my lungs is gone!”

“Really?” A smile widening on your face, you hopped up on the bed as usual and settled down.

“Yep! They said that if I want to, I can start going outside."

This seemed to you like something that a doctor wouldn’t mention offhand. “Kihyun, did he just say that of his own volition, or…did you ask him?”

“Oh, I asked,” He replied, cheerily. “I’ve been thinking, (Y/N), do my parents keep royal gardens, too?”

Of course that’s what would be running through his head. “Yes. I have to walk through them to get here.”

“Are they as grand and lavish as the ones at Mindenhal castle?”

“Ah–I’m not quite sure. However, they are certainly a beautiful sight.” Tapping your chin, you scrunched up your mouth. You really had never thought about it before. Here in Amberdin, the climate was a little different than that of your home. The plant species that grew here weren’t the same, either. Maybe it was your childhood ideals, but they were a little plainer. In any case, you finally decided that the royal gardens here were just as well tended to as Mindenhal’s.

“Take me there, won’t you, please, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Kihyun. I would, to see the happiness on your face.” Even the sight of him at the suggestion was making your heart leap. Yet, there were a few problems. “But, how? I can’t carry you. Well, not for very long, anyway. And how are we going to get past the guards at the gate? Certainly they know your parents’ orders not to let you out.”

Kihyun chuckled. “Both are easy solutions, actually.” He gestured to a corner, and your eyes fell on something that you had never noticed before: a dusty, yet sturdy looking chair with wheels on its legs. “The kingdom’s best craftsman made that for me when I first fell ill, but we haven’t had a chance to use it until now. As for the guards–do you see that bookshelf on the east wall?”

“Yes.” You hopped off the bed and made your way over to the tall oak case. To ordinary eyes, it seemed like just another dusty place in the room. “What about it?”

“Pull the red book on your right.”

Scanning the shelves, you almost immediately saw what he was referring to, on the second row from the bottom. You knelt a little and tried to take it out, but it didn’t budge. Instead, a click hit your ear, then loud creaking and grinding started from behind. You couldn’t help but step back and gasp as the bookshelf slid ever so slowly to the left, revealing a secret passageway. The steps led down into darkness. “Wow.”

Now, you had no more excuses or reasons why he shouldn’t be able to go out. Kihyun must have sensed this because he started to detail a plan, one that you were sure that he had thought of well in advance. “Take the wheeled chair to the bottom of the stairs, where there’s a secret outside door. Then, do you think that you’ll be able to carry me down?”

You were strong for your age and being a girl, but you still were unsure how long you could bear his weight. “I can try.”

“You don’t have to carry me in your arms. I can hold on to your neck and try to support myself a little behind you. If you need a rest, just tell me and I’d be glad to sit on a step while you catch your breath.”

“What if I fall and hurt you?”

He sighed and smiled. “I might be weak, but I’m tough. Also, in that case, I think I’d be more worried about you.”

The Prince was right. You were getting yourself worked up over nothing. “Alright.–I’ll be right back.” Dusting off the wheelchair a little, you pushed it to the secret door and down the stairs, being careful not to jostle it too much. 

Just as Kihyun had said, there was a barely-outlined door at the bottom. When you pushed on it, it opened right up. There was a hedge on its other side, that seemed to be carefully-kept in order for easy access to this door. This didn’t lead anyplace else, so–who did that? The thought flicked across your mind that someone else might consistently visit Kihyun. This was quickly forgotten, however, at another realization. The garden beyond was secluded, and better yet, not visible from the King and Queen’s room. So as long as the two of you weren’t too loud, you could safely take the prince out here and no one would notice. It seemed like he would get his wish.

You placed the chair in a small nook at the bottom of the stairs, and went back up to Kihyun, who was waiting expectantly in his bed. As you emerged from the secret passageway, the sight of him twiddling his thumbs and whistling must have triggered something in you. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted: “Sing for me.”

“What?” Confused, he glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “Sing for you?”

“I’ll take you outside and show you the gardens, and you’ll sing for me in return. Anything. Even things you’re learning with Hyungsoo, if you need to–“

He didn’t need to say anything to cut you off. His surprised face and slack jaw did that for him. “–that’s a ridiculous request. You could have asked for so much more.”

It’s everything, flashed through your head.

“But if it’s really what you want–then yes. I’ll sing whatever you like.” 

Getting used to carrying Kihyun down the stairs was hard. You were very weak; that first time was the worst. You required several periods of rest before you even got him to the chair. Also, you probably would have given up if your passenger wasn’t so understanding that day. The fact that he sang softly for you when you set him down made it better, too. He said that even in the dark, he could see you brighten at the sound of his sweet voice.

The look of wonder and joy on the prince’s face as you wheeled him through the beautiful green gardens was every bit as priceless as you expected it to be. No matter how many times he emerged into the daylight, his smile would inevitably become brighter than it. He really enjoyed the fresh air, and the breeze, and seeing how much the flowers had grown since he was last outside. The first day you were out, he abruptly said that he hadn’t been beyond the walls of his room in ten years. After you got over your sadness at that fact, you became really glad that you had agreed to start taking him.

As you reached the end of the first excursion, you abruptly realized that you hadn’t considered having to carry him back upstairs. Dread weighed on you. However, you set your jaw, started the work, and ultimately decided that it wasn’t as bad as you had expected. You kept your legs going, convincing yourself that you had just one more stair, and before you knew it you were back on the carpet by his bed. After you lowered him to the mattress, he could get himself situated again. His arms were strong from years of having to adjust his position, and he often sat at the edge of the bed, letting his knees hang over.

Together, you decided to only go outside every other day until both of you got more used to it. Not only did you become sore afterwards, but Kihyun did, too. He was just as exhausted after your afternoons in the garden. Mostly, because he was starting to use his feet to support his weight and aid your strength going up and down the stairs. This caused aching and soreness in his almost-useless legs. Often you heard him let out a sharp breath when he tried doing too much. It was hard for him because progress was so slow, and his pride was so large. You had to encourage him by reminding him that it all meant he was getting stronger.

Before you left your room to go visit him now, you reminded yourself to grab your lute. Both of you enjoyed it immensely when you’d play a tune and he’d sing along. If you could, you joined him in harmony as well.

“You have a wonderful voice, (Y/N).” Kihyun cut in, after the first time you did. “I suspected, but often, even the most melodic-toned person can’t sing a note. You’re taking lessons, of course?”

“Yes. With Sir Youngbae.”

Kihyun nodded and stared off into space for a minute as you strummed a tune and hummed it. “You should ask my mother and father if you can start with Hyungsoo. He’s a tough teacher, but you will get better.”

“I don’t know. Usually he decides to take you under his wing, am I not mistaken?”

“Yes, but I’ve never known him to turn down sitting in a voice lesson if he’s asked.”

“Ok. I’ll bring it up at supper sometime, then.”

Kihyun was so determined to walk again, but the two of you didn’t do anything to help him directly at first. You knew that it would inevitably become a thing, though. It was just a matter of time, and confidence.

There was a round, stone fountain with carved gargoyles in the secluded place right outside the secret door. It was clearly meant for admiration from afar. You could lean against the side and just miss bumping your head on a small overhang. For Kihyun, who was slightly taller, he could probably reach up and grab the ledge if he stretched to full height. One day, as you drew close to it, he asked if you would help him stand and do just that. “I’m going to try to walk a little ways around. I’ll probably need your shoulder, even when I’m up. Try not to let me depend on you too much.”

“Alright.” You nodded. The day had come. Readying your now-strong and supple shoulders, you hauled him out of the wheel-chair, making yourself as tall as possible so that his feet were flat on the ground. Much to your surprise, when you eased your support, he adjusted nicely and managed to keep his weight steady on his own, though his knees trembled.

His right hand clung, white-knuckled, to the outcropping and he took a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” Your arm was around his waist for support.

Kihyun clenched his jaw determinedly and lifted his left foot off the ground, pushing forward with the other. He nearly stumbled and fell, but you braced yourself and managed to help him keep upright. It wasn’t a true step quite yet, but you knew that if you kept at it, soon he would be taking many. You breathed out slowly as he huffed in frustration, trying to keep him calm. “Let’s try again, yes?”

He reset himself and determinedly continued on, with the other foot this time. You couldn’t help but notice that he depended on you a little less, and managed to complete the heel-toe motion fully. “That, Kihyun, is the first step you’ve taken in eleven years.”

A grin grew on his face. “Yes, it is. I suppose I’m moving up in the world.”

You beamed, soft for seeing this boy so happy. A quarter way around the large fountain and about ten steps later, he was sweating and exhausted, but proud with what he had accomplished. You picked him up (the strength you had gained carrying him up and down the stairs allowed you to) and carried him back to your starting point, setting him back down in the safety of the chair.

Every day, the two of you repeated this routine until he was able to complete a full circle around the fountain without your constant support. He still gripped the ledge, but he’d be walking on his own soon. For the time being, though, he relied on the wheeled chair and you.

You waited a long, long while before returning to If You Come [With Me], My Love, the old song that reminded you of your parents and the first you had heard him sing. He was on the cusp of nineteen, and you were already safely eighteen when you finally worked up the bravery to suggest it. The melody was so special, and you felt that it was very important to make sure that what you had with Kihyun was strong before you heard it from his lips again.

It was a bright, sunny day. Together, you finished singing one of the prince’s favorites and he glanced over expectantly, waiting for you to start the next tune. Taking a deep breath, you chose a key and started,

I found a place where the river runs clear, and the stag, he drinks without fear, without fear.

Kihyun’s eyes widened, and a grin grew on his face. Joining in, he closed his eyes, scrunched up his nose in that way you loved, and harmonized perfectly with you,

I found a place where the fish jump and play, the leaves and the trees and the rocks beckon, stay.

If you come with me, my love, I can show you the river, and the deer, the fish, the rocks, the trees; stay close, I’ll whisper my love on the afternoon breeze.

It gave you goosebumps. His voice was so perfectly suited for that song. It was just as amazing, no, even more amazing than it had been first time you had heard it from out in the hall.

Kiss my cheek, hold my hand, tell me you’re mine alone; you’re beautiful, I’m proud to call you my own. Whisper to me, whisper your dreams, your hopes, your fears, your desire; of your voice, I’ll ne'er, ne'er tire.

If you come with me, my love, I can show you the river, and the deer, the fish, the rocks, the trees; stay close, I’ll whisper my love on the afternoon breeze.

There was more, but you suddenly, unexpectedly found yourself unable to pick at the strings on the lute, let alone continue to sing as a huge pang of homesickness descended on you. It was of an intensity the likes of which you hadn’t felt since you had first come to Amberdin. Starting to cry, your shoulders shook. You sobbed for your family, for the people you loved so much; how they were probably still embroiled in a terrible, hopeless war. Also, you cried for the princess they forgot, who went away at a terrible cost: her identity and validity. You.

Hesitant, shaky footsteps made their way toward you and a familiar body sat down at your side. An arm snaked around your waist, and pulled you closer, the warm, gentle breaths at your ear so familiar. 

Kihyun.

You felt his lips at your temple, pressed there, moving with animation as he sang. Somehow, the vibrations of his voice calmed your grief-wracked body and aching soul.

This is our place, our river, our rocks, our trees; we can stay as long as we wish, and never, never leave. Here in my arms, what is there to be scared of? Tomorrow cannot touch us, cannot break us, cannot fade our love.

If you come with me, I can show you the river, and the deer, the fish, the rocks, the trees; stay close, I’ll whisper my love on the afternoon breeze.

“I’m here for you, (Y/N).” He murmured, stroking your hair. “I will always be.”

It didn’t hit you until later that you had never seen him walk without support, until then.

After that, he grew better by leaps and bounds. Another year slipped by, somehow, but in that time he hit many milestones. One day, you walked in to see him and he wasn’t in bed, but sitting in an armchair by the bookshelf, reading. He made it all the way up and down the secret passageway stairs completely by himself. Then, was able to spend an entire afternoon walking through the gardens, arm in arm with you. It was a challenge, but he became able to sit down, fold his legs, and stand up again. He walked into the kitchens and sampled that night’s menu; the entire staff had looked at each other and wondered who he was. Finally, he jogged and then ran through the garden. As he returned to your side, he wrapped you in a tight bear hug.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with Prince Yoo Kihyun, heir to the throne of Amberdin. His sharp face and piercing eyes; those heart-shaped lips. The new joy he took in his ability to walk and run, and confidence he now had because of it. He was bold, he was smart; he would make a fine king someday.

His parents, with whom you still kept your promises, were utterly blind to this all. You knew that he couldn’t hide it forever, especially considering how the palace staff closest to him now knew: Miss Hyolyn, Sir Hyungsoo, Sir Taekwoon. Hoseok. On several occasions, when you mentioned that Kihyun should tell them about his recovery, he darkened perceptibly and changed the subject. He had to get over his anger and realize that his familial responsibility was something he couldn’t run from forever. If he wanted to be King someday (like you knew he did), he had to prove to his mother and father that he could be that kind of man.

You promised yourself you’d work on him about it. But for now, all you could do was love him and pray. 

“I have something I need you to do.” He said, one lovely day, as you sat together on your favorite stone bench. It was a peaceful spot near a small pond dotted with water lilies and ringed by cattails.

“And what might that be, your Highness?” You giggled and turned to face him, elbowing him in the ribs. Using a title nowadays was mostly just fun and games, strictly teasing.

A grin growing on his face, he sighed and laughed, shaking his head. “Your highness, the time has come to bring together my inner circle. They’re spread around the castle, and I need you to be my messenger.”

“Why not do it yourself? You can walk.”

“That would be too obvious. Besides, it’s traditional that a beautiful maiden deliver the news. So will you help me?”

At his implied compliment, you turned a little pink. “Yes, Kihyun. I will, for you. What do I say?”

“Approach, and tell them this: ‘Speak to me not of absolute monarchy, for we are brothers in spirit; If I can have your camaraderie I can do anything. If you truly belong to the clan, your Majesty Yoo Kihyun requests your presence in the midnight hour, at the moon pool’.”

Sighing internally, you resigned yourself to the task, carefully repeating the poetic invitation in your head.

“Meet me here at midnight. Then, I will perform the ceremony for the one you invited, and give you your clue for the next member. Find them before the following moonrise. Oh, one more thing, we can’t see each other between ceremonies.”

This better be a very special ritual, if you had to follow all these rules. Your heart hurt a little at not being able to see Kihyun every afternoon. Just one more thing to accept, you tried to convince yourself. “Alright, I believe I understand. Who is the first member of the circle?”

“I think you already know.”

The last colors of the sunset were just fading from the sky when you approached a small, cosy stone attachment to the East Wing. This was the armory, and in addition to housing all the royal weapons and guards’ equipment, constant metalwork went on there. It was probably unbearably hot most of the time, making you wonder how Hoseok managed working in such heat, especially in the summer.

You peeked in the small grimy window, which was lit up by an orange glow. A wash of relief overtook your mind as you detected only one muscled, powerful figure inside. It was the one you needed, too, which was a huge comfort as well.

The sturdy wooden door gave at your touch, and you stepped gently in to see Hoseok working feverishly at the forge, pounding out a blade, folding the metal to multiply its strength.

He must have heard you over the din, because he glanced up and met your eyes. As you approached, head raised and water lily poised perfectly in your hands, he stood, entranced. You gave your message softly, every word pulled from deep within you. That was the moment you realized there was magic here. Nodding, Hoseok tenderly took the lily and didn’t stir until you had left.

That night, at the pool, Kihyun gave you a hug as the two of you waited for Hoseok. “I’m so nervous,” he sighed and wrung his hands. “Nobody has done this ritual in over a hundred years. I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.”

“You’ll be fine, Kihyun-ah.” You said, putting a hand on his chest. “Just be confident. clear your mind.”

Wonho appeared, dressed in what was clearly his best (though slightly dirty and torn) leather pants and tunic. Kneeling in front of his Majesty, who had taken his spot on a grassy knoll by the water, he waited for blessing or beheading. Kihyun pulled a long, silver sword with a sapphire-inlaid hilt out of the scabbard at his side, and set the flat blade on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“My dearest friend,” He started gently, his voice expanding and rising above the night sounds as he continued. “You may not be of royal birth, but to me you are as close as a brother. I can never repay you for your constant devotion and encouragement.” The prince raised the sword and pointed it straight up. “O powers that be, please look upon me, as the future King of Amberdin, and hear my request. This man has proven himself loyal and wise and capable, may the spirits of his ancestors look upon him favorably. Grant him knighthood, by my upstanding word and command.”

Kihyun brought the sword back down, and turned the point to Hoseok’s cheek. Neither boy flinched as the former drug it forward, down his friend’s face, leaving a cut from which a few drops of blood seeped.

There was a flash, and much to your astonishment, the next time you opened your eyes, Wonho was fully clad in silver armor, unlike any you had seen before. Cerulean light shone around him, giving rise to small, beautiful blue flowers out of the grass. A gleaming silver object speared into the dirt: a sword, just as finely made but less intricate than the crown Prince’s. After a moment, Hoseok rose and took off his helmet, revealing that the cut Kihyun had made was no longer there. He looked his king in the face and you could see the tears pool in his eyes.

The two came in for a big, tight hug, Wonho’s new armor gleaming in the still-radiant light. His highness whispered to him, and drew something out of his pocket. It was small pendant, shaped like a shield, made out of a clear, faceted stone. Most likely, diamond or some sort of similar, precious material. It was fitting considering how much Kihyun loved and adored Hoseok. The prince unclasped the latch and put it around the knight’s neck, underneath the hard armor shell.

Sir Shin Hoseok, Wonho. Personal guard, servant, and loyal friend to His Majesty.

“You may not be aware, but he watches you and knows you. But do not fear, he is gentle as a lamb. His spear does not attack, but is a symbol of his protective nature.”

In fact, you were aware. You had always kept a close eye on the palace staff, and had suspected before that the King’s bodyguard knew things he didn’t let on in his motionless stance. Once, you had seen him talking with Hoseok; he was kind, fatherly, and powerful. No wonder he protected his royal highness with his life. However, now, you knew his loyalty lay elsewhere. Maybe it always had.

Again, a lily rested in your hand as you approached the tall, broad-shouldered guard alone. Hyunwoo (or, Shownu, so they called him) seemed to understand immediately what you were here for. He made eye contact and cupped his palms underneath yours, fingers brushing your wrists ever so lightly. The message flowed from the depths of your heart, in a voice almost not your own. You dropped the flower into his outstretched hands, and he gave a slow nod.

It was strange to see such a big man kneel in front of Kihyun, but the latter crackled with the electricity of nobility, of authority. “Your mother did not want you, and your father does not know about you.” Kihyun said, a frown crossing his features. “But you have made a family here and grown strong; it is your destiny to rule your kingdom someday.”

Hyunwoo was a prince? This surprised you. At the same time, considering his stature and bearing, it wasn’t a wonder. Also, how the King had been subtly raising him up as a man of importance.

Like he had with Wonho, including the words and cut on the cheek, the prince completed the rite. When the light cleared and the blue flowers grew, Hyunwoo received a set of armor and sword as well. He rose; Kihyun stepped forward to place his charm around his neck. It was a gold spear. There, they met as equals, as fellow future rulers.

Sir Son Hyunwoo, Shownu, true Prince of Goldwraith and loyal friend to His Majesty.

“I often fear that your father is grooming me for the throne, Kihyun,” Hyunwoo said, softly, gravely. “You must reveal yourself to him, how strong you’ve grown, and resume your place as rightful heir.”

The prince only clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Dukes and duchesses, kings and queens meet him first in this land, and he is also the one to see them off. Do not treat him lightly, for he keeps a powerful secret.”

You had heard whispers about the handsome foreign mediator before you had even seen his face. They called him Minhyuk, Lee Minhyuk; it was a common name, but there was only one of him. He was very good at his job and pleasant with guests, even if they spoke another language.

The two of you first got acquainted when one day he had approached to ask about your home. You thought you had never seen a smile so cheerful or radiant in your life (except for Kihyun’s). He said that he was gathering information for a book of his authoring, but his questions covered everything from the mountains in the north, to the great river in the West. If he wanted to be writing about Mindenhal, he was in the complete wrong place. Most suspicious was his inquiry into how your kingdom thought of magic. Nevertheless, you told him everything he wanted to know. His charms were too irresistible, and you sensed that he was a much deeper man than he let on.

When you first approached, lily in hand as usual, Minhyuk was walking on a garden path you and Kihyun had trod many times before. A breeze kicked up, and you thought that you could hear voices in the wind, a thousand men and women muttering enchantments and spells. When you were still a ways off, he seemed to notice you and snapped his head around; a fierce gaze bore straight into your soul. Sudden fear overtook you, but something kept you from turning away and running. The wind grew until you felt that you were walking against a gale, but at his side and all at once, things were calm. How it was that you weren’t shaking, you didn’t have a clue.

You must have said your part, because the tall, brown-haired boy reached out and took the flower lightly from your hand. The moment he did so, it started to burn, tongues of orange flame consuming the wet, delicate petals like paper. The fire did not scorch Minhyuk’s hands, by some miracle, but in seconds only ash remained in his palms. Magic was so thick around, that you could breathe it, taste it there.

He arrived that evening not in leather, but in long, flowing robes. Unseen forces shifted in the air around him. You had a feeling that like the unstable power that emanated from his entire being, he had a storm brewing in his mind. Minhyuk seemed hesitant to bow, and he faced Kihyun on the knoll for a long second.

“I do not doubt where your heart lies, Minhyuk,” The prince stated, slowly. “I also know what troubles you. You have heard the tales of the Great Witch Agatha stirring up trouble in the northeast.”

The brown haired man dropped his gaze. “My liege, I have tried my hardest to not make my life’s mission revenge, but it is hard not to in hearing of her exploits…families, gone, like she took away mine.”

“Your time will come.”

Minhyuk nodded, and finally took a knee. The accolade began, like twice before. Kihyun requested Minhyuk’s ancestors to look upon him favorably, grazed his cheek with the sword. You braced yourself.

There was a flash–but not of light, of fire. Flames leapt down out of the sky, covering the Prince and Minhyuk. Your eyes bolted wide open, and you cried out and reached forward for them. However as you managed to peer into the fire, you came to the realization that, like Minhyuk’s hand touching the flower, neither man was burning. It just seemed to be the air. Not even the little blue blooms on the ground wilted.

“The great sorcerers of old have recognized our friendship and pledge.” Though his lips didn’t move, you could hear Minhyuk’s words clearly. “I am bound to the clan by devoted heart and solemn word.” He reached out for the sword at his side, and it sang through the air, changing his robes into shining silver armor.

Kihyun’s trinket of choice to Minhyuk was a pendant made of rowan wood, in the shape of a seven-pointed star. “Though you are a prince in title alone, I do not look down on you. Have patience and steadfastness, my friend.”

Sir Lee Minhyuk, Warlock Prince, foreign mediator of Amberdin and loyal friend to His Majesty.

“Master of the most majestic creature on Earth, the equine, he is free as the soaring swallow and transient and beautiful as the morning dew. Contrary to his title, his hands know hard work.”

A grand black stallion ducked out of the trees and trotted over as you swung the gate open and stepped inside, latching it securely behind. Curious, the horse nuzzled your shoulder before sniffing the water lily in your hand and trying to eat it.

“No, Trink,” you grinned and pushed his muzzle away. “Not a treat, and not for you.” The King’s horse, unfazed, snorted and started bumping at your sides. There was a carrot in your pocket, and he homed in on it, giving you a pleading eye and shaking his head cutely. You laughed. “What a charmer. Oh, stop, you silly horse.” Scratching between his ears, you rubbed the stallion’s face and cupped his jaw in a hand. “I’ll give it to you if you help me find Hyungwon.”

Somehow, maybe by magic, the horse seemed to understand, and bobbing his head, turned away and led you across the field. Your thumb stroked the soft coat at his shoulder, and he seemed to have a purpose in matching your stride.

Kihyun had been right when he said that the tall, slender prince was as transient as the morning dew. When he was awake, he was never in the same place for very long. He much preferred the company of horses to that of humans, and spent whole days out in the pasture, talking to the horses or working with them.

After about ten minutes of walking, you came upon another grove, and there he was, peacefully asleep in the shade, leaning up against a tree trunk. The rest of the royal horses grazed around him. You couldn’t help but laugh again as Trink bumped the pocket with the carrot. “Ok, you’ve earned it. Here you go.” You reached in with your hand and pulled out the long orange vegetable, and the stallion took it, happily crunching down and chewing.

Your voice must have woken up Hyungwon, because he was getting up sleepily when you turned to face him. The two of you met in the middle, the horses’ ears the only audience as you gave him Kihyun’s message and the lily.

Hyungwon seemed to glow that evening by the moon pool. He was such an ethereal boy. Even the blood that ran down his face when Kihyun drew it didn’t detract from his visuals. When the light flashed and silver armor coated his form, you almost wished that the red drops lingered, still. 

The prince gave him a silver horseshoe pendant, and Hyungwon clutched the charm in his hand.

Sir Chae Hyungwon, Prince of Coutillar, master horseman and loyal friend to His Majesty.

“Thank you, Kihyun. I wish I had better words of appreciation for you.”

“You saved my life.” On the fateful day of the accident, Kihyun could have died if it wasn’t for Hyungwon. He had squeezed his six-year old body under the fence and rescued the Prince from an angry stallion, stroking the great grey beast’s shoulder and backing him away slowly. “I should be the one thanking you.”

“Words come so easily for this boy with a mischievous nature. Pen and paper is his creed and not a day passes where he doesn’t bless our halls with verses of indescribable beauty.”

The first time Lee Jooheon read his work aloud at the evening banquet table, everyone, including you, had sat enraptured. The smooth, flowing verses carried you along and the rhythm of the poetry was concise and clean. Most of all, his animated performance of the work drew you in. No one could look away as his facial expression shifted and changed. Anger, happiness, jealousy, contentment, and every other emotion the human heart feels flickered in his eyes. Since that time, the Queen and King had asked him to come back many times, and on each occasion that he read, it was the same. He was an incredible poet and speaker.

So, it had been no surprise to learn that he was prince of Talkaskin. His kingdom was familiar to you since it lay just over the great river West of Mindenhal. You knew his mother and father: wise and powerful people, who were greatly admired by all. They were also very beautiful, and Jooheon followed in that vein too. He was well-proportioned and attractive without trying. Often, he got requests to poke his deep dimples. By now his usual reaction was a laugh and a nod.

Of course your next wondering was why he was here. Apparently, after a long debate about where he would go for an education, it was finally decided that Amberdin would be the best choice. So, Jooheon had come to live in the palace. The people that had come with him had mentioned that they would be back to collect the prince. However, no one had followed up on that promise, even though he had long finished his formal schooling. Now, he reveled in his employment as a palace scribe, correspondence overseer, and librarian.

When he was still young, he had gotten in trouble a lot. You remembered times when you noticed his spot at the dinner table was empty. Not too much later, a palace servant would drag him by his ear or have a firm grip on his upper arm. They had inevitably found him tearing pages out of books, tromping in the mud right by the Queen’s prized white roses, or sneaking around the castle. You wondered if that’s how he had found Kihyun, an unexpected side effect of curiosity.

The corners of Jooheon’s mouth tipped up cutely when you approached him with the lily in your hands and gave the message. Unexpectedly, he bowed deeply and stepped forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Your cheeks dusted with pink.

That night you learned that the friendship between the prince and Jooheon had always been a slightly strained one. As the scribe knelt, their auras clashed, friction palpable in the air. Yet, you also sensed that Kihyun did not for a moment question his decision to include his friend in the clan. Their agape–brotherly love–must always have remained true and steadfast. After all, neither had given up on the other yet.

Kihyun said the implorement as naturally and easily as he had said Hoseok’s or Hyunwoo’s. Hot tears mixed with blood as the blade made its mark down Jooheon’s face. Even after the deep-dimpled man was clad in silver armor, wet rolled down his cheeks. Jooheon removed his helmet and dared to look the Prince in the eye. Neither spoke a word. Kihyun stepped forward to clasp the chain around Jooheon’s neck. He had chosen a jade feather for his friend’s pendant, and you knew not lightly.

Sir Lee Jooheon, Prince of Talkaskin, expert wordsmith and loyal friend to His Majesty.

“I am sorry for many of the things that have happened between us in the last few years,” Kihyun said finally. “I hope we can look to the future with no regret or grudge.”

Jooheon ducked his head. “Me too. I only wish the best for you, Kihyun. If you dare to wipe clean your slate of bad memories, I shall as well.”

“Many enemies have fallen under his sword, as he has turned his gift with a blade into an art. Many have tried and failed to best him. But more than that, his perseverance has made me stronger.”

Of course, Prince Kihyun talked the most about Wonho and his unwavering companionship. However, another name also often came up in your conversations with him. It was a name that, ironically, was better known in the kingdom of Amberdin than Kihyun’s was. This didn’t seem to faze the prince any though when he spoke of the talented warrior and refugee prince, Im Changkyun.

No one was exactly sure why Changkyun had come to Amberdin, but it was generally known that his home, Lymten, was dying. Any hour, a stronger kingdom could invade, and they’d be virtually unresisted. The once-prosperous kingdom was becoming a ghost town. The number of babies born were decreasing, and at the same time, adults were growing old and passing away or succumbing to illness. Rumors abounded that his parents had sent him away so that he didn’t have to see his people in their last throes. Many considered it a miracle that the King and Queen had been able to have a healthy son at all.

In any case, the reason the young prince was so famous was because of his unmatched skill in combat. He could do it all: wield a broadsword on foot or on horseback, hit crazy targets with a longbow or crossbow, or use a tower shield and pike. Even, take another man down hand to hand (albeit using some questionable methods). There was a tale that he had once fought off an entire calvary with nothing but a dagger and a bit of a broken spear. No one would expect it from a young, young kid like him, but he was strong, supple, and talented. He travelled all over, holding contests, daring men to try to beat him in anything. No one could.

Everyone got a surprise when the king offered Changkyun a position at the castle and he accepted. ‘Combat specialist and tactician’, was the exact title. True, it came with lodging, food, and good pay, but no one had seen him as a homebody until then. He was still enough of a kid to have permission to be a drifter. Explore the world and not let anything (or anyone) tie him down. By all outward appearances, though, the boy seemed to be happy with the new, secure job.

Part of his contract and duties involved helping improve the crippled prince’s body strength. So, Changkyun had started giving Kihyun private swordsmanship lessons from bed. At first, things were tense and unfamiliar, but the two boys warmed up to each other. Kihyun found the younger boy’s teaching style, personality, and knack for conversation entertaining. When Kihyun had first learned to walk on his own, Changkyun had made him get up, no matter how much he complained. He had a talent for ignoring the older boy’s angry outbursts and pushing him to be better. They often parried back and forth for hours, every day. Though at the time, Kihyun had fumed, now he looked back with fondness and appreciation. The repetitive and active movement made the prince’s legs stronger, building his endurance and stamina as well.

You found Changkyun out in the main courtyard, of course. He was giving another nobleman hand-to-hand pointers. They were just getting done; the young man turned and spotted you. His eyes lit up with recognition, small mouth widening into a huge smile. He dabbed his sweaty, tan skin with a towel as you delivered your message and gave him the lily.

If you were to be frank, this felicitous, effeminate boy mesmerized you. How could he be so hardened by combat and yet act so innocent? Apparently, even the ancestors’ spirits found him cute. The blue light seemed gentle around Changkyun that night. The blue flowers also pooled closely around his feet. Kihyun’s gift, a dark garnet charm of a sword and arrow crossed over each other, as well as his smile, was telling. The prince had a special place in his heart for the maknae.

Sir Im Changkyun, prince of Lymten, master swordsman and loyal friend to His Majesty.

Kihyun told you that he only had one more riddle, one more thing to give.

“Such strength–and beauty radiates from her every pore. Yet, she is so selfless. Never have I owed a greater debt or held a higher regard, and it all started when she heard a lonely boy sing.”

“But–that’s–”

A finger to your lips hushed you up right away. Kihyun’s gentle smile melted you, as well. “Just meet me tomorrow night.”

You put yourself to bed, but spent a long hour laying awake, clutching your pillow close to yourself. He certainly meant you, right? Had you heard him correctly? You weren’t a strong warrior or a magician. Beautiful poetry didn’t flow from your lips, and you couldn’t calm an anxious horse with a word. The six he had already chosen were strong. They would grow to be important figureheads and together rule the entire world.

Even the next morning, when you woke up and went about your daily business, the doubt lingered that Kihyun’s words weren’t real. What if they had come out wrong in your head or even out of his mouth? It took a good part of the day for it to cement itself that it was you, and after that you felt like you were floating. Midnight suddenly could not come fast enough.

As the hour approached, your heart leapt into your throat. You prayed for the hundredth time that Kihyun had meant what he had said. With every moment that passed, it was becoming more real that the prince wanted you to be part of his inner circle. There was nothing that made you happier than the thought of serving him for the rest of your days.

Before the appointed time, you changed into a pale blue gown. It specifically had been on your mind because Kihyun had once told you he liked it on you. Maybe it was your imagination, but you often caught him staring when you were wearing it.

Making your way down to the pool, you found Kihyun standing on the knoll, watching the silver water. He gave you a gentle smile as you went straight to his side. Arms slid around each other’s waists, and you leaned into his side.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. However, eventually curiosity got the better of you and you queried, “The rite?”

He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and chuckled. “That’s a knighting. I would be glad to do it once more, but that’s–probably not what’s best. It goes against my deepest wishes for you.”

“Oh.” You turned a little pink, and buried your face in his shoulder to hide your blush. Yes, of course it would be pointless to give you a knight’s title and position.

“If you would like a ritual, though,” Kihyun said at last, and turned to face you, “how about this?” He drew you close, gently lifted your chin, and beautiful brown eyes locked onto yours. With a hand he wiped a stray lock of hair off your forehead. Warm lips left a chaste kiss there, then drifted down to the point of your nose to plant another. Clearing his throat, he said softly, intimately, “(Y/N), princess of Mindenhal, this is my solemn declaration of my love for you. I pray and hope that you feel the same. Will you marry me? Nothing would make me happier than to hear you say that you’ll sit at my right hand as my wife and queen.”

Tears pooled in your eyes as it all hit you what he had just asked. A smile spread across your face, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to kiss him properly. His breath was warm, and your nostrils filled with his scent. It was so intoxicating that you had to make an effort to pull away and verbally acknowledge your answer. “Of course, Kihyun.”

He shone as radiantly as the day that he had been able to run and feel the wind in his hair again. Lacing his fingers with yours, he smiled over at you and indulged himself in your lips one more time. Then, he seemed to remember something, and took a charm out of his side pocket. "My necklace is of a deep, royal blue, a sapphire." He pulled the neck of his tunic down slightly, so that you could see. It was a simple flat cut, with a delicate engraving of a crowned lion. "Yours is made of a sister stone, red and luminous, a ruby." He unclasped the chain, and went to place it around your neck. You moved your hair for him as he did so. "I--I hope that you like it. It symbolizes how you have made a home in my heart.”

Your mother’s locket hung there as well, and you gently told him, “It’s fine to take it off.” You were a different woman now, older and wiser, and she had faded in your memory. In a way it was like--replacing Mindenhal with Amberdin, your mother with Kihyun.

He nodded and unclasped the chain of the old necklace before replacing it with his, dropping the locket in your hand, which was promptly pocketed. 

Gingerly, you took his token in between your fingers, running your touch over the smooth sides of the little red heart. "Kihyunie, it's beautiful. I love it."

He wouldn't admit it, but he was filled with so much happiness momentarily that he almost cried. Kihyun's bicep squeezed you flush and tight against his body. Sighing contentedly, you dropped your head to his chest. All at once he began to sing as you swayed there in the moonlight together. The familiar tune and beautiful voice melted your ear.

This is our place, our river, our rocks, our trees; we can stay as long as we wish, and never, never leave. Here in my arms, what is there to be scared of? Tomorrow cannot touch us, cannot break us, cannot fade our love.

If you come with me, I can show you the river, and the deer, the fish, the rocks, the trees; stay close, I’ll whisper my love on the afternoon breeze.

[pollyssecretlibrary]

Bookshelves tag

“ This round is open to interpretation, so don’t let the word bookshelves stop you. Whether your collection is big or small, physical or digital, your parents’ or from the library, it counts as a bookshelf here. To play: answer the prompts and tag your friends to do the same. Optional: use #microreview and check out @microreviews for “rules,” reviews, and more! ”

I was kindly tagged by @seashells-and-bookshelves <3 my first booktag! aw thank you so much!

Sorry that I can’t show you my shelves at the moment, but to describe them to you… I have only two sets of shelves in my room because it’s so small, and it’s covered with books from top to bottom. And the TV tray is also full of books (I keep my period drama collection in boxes). Since my brother and sister moved out I’ve invaded their rooms. Thankfully they never liked reading so I put their school books away and used their shelves as an extension of mine. Also the living room is full of books. Go figure.

I have books in Spanish mainly (I’m from Spain) and in English, of the latter there are fewer because I’m the only one in my family who can read them. This summer I got the highest level certificate in English you can get in Europe (C2, aka Proficiency level) and I’m, for once, very proud of myself.

 What genres or types of books dominate your shelf?

Mainly fantasy and classics. Well, classic isn’t a genre really, but you know what I mean. I love reading of other times and other places and I don’t know, they say reading is a way of escapism, well, there you go, I run to places of magic and cups of tea, great warriors, wicked witches, charming men, witty women…

What do you wish you had more of?

Graphic novels and Romance, mainly historical. I keep a little romance collection (very little) in my kindle because the titles I want to read are unavailable in the shops (you can find all Nora Roberts and Lisa Kleypas, which I like, but there’s so much more out there). Romance has helped me through a very hard medical phase of my life, I have a complicated injury (well now it’s a condition) on my lower back and I had to go to physical therapy every morning for a while, I could only read on my kindle there… and here we are now, trying to fit in the community. Hi

Smallest book? Largest book?

Smallest book… I think it’s Stefan Zweig’s “Buchmendel”, the Spanish edition is tiny and has only 57 pages

Biggest book… “War and Peace” by Lev Tolstoi… read it, seriously, read that book! It’s either that one or an all three books in one edition of the “Lord of the Rings” with illustrations by Alan Lee... my precioussss

Oldest book? Newest book?

It’s an edition of “Gone with the Wind” that belonged to my late grandmother, perhaps some second hands that I own are older than that one, but… I haven’t checked, sorry

If ebooks count, then it’s “Lord of the Wicked Intentions” by Lorraine Heath that I bought minutes ago ;)

Does anything live there besides books?

Bookmarks and Stationery… moleskines, muji pens, zebra markers, stabilo pens, my kaweko fountain pen, loads of washi tape (masking tape) stickers, more pens, crayons, letter paper, cards… stop me please!!!

I don’t know who to tag, my tumblr is only two week old and I’m still trying to get to know people here. So if you happen to read this and want to have a go, please do so.