#please i need them to get married and travel together and never enter the palace again

[capriszn]

its just me and my daily episodes of blossoms in adversity against the world

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 3.6K

TIGGER WARNING: 18+ scene, first time, taking virginity, vanilla sex. If you are not comfortable reading smut or are NOT 18, please read up until the line!

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Happy reading my loves!

Thank you for helping me reach 1000+ followers! I have a follower event posted, if you haven't seen it! Requests are still open if you are interested. Rules are posted after this chapter and you can see them if you scroll down my page. Will be reblogging soon!

[previous]                                                                                               [next]

It all felt like a dream. When you woke up from the warm, sun rays, Bakugou’s dreamy face was the first thing you saw. Eyes closed without a care in the world. You finally felt a piece and that everything was turning right for you, that this was going to be your new life.

There was nothing you wanted more than for you to be in Bakugou’s arms, and that’s where you were this very instant. His arm wrapped around you in a tight, protective hold, his face just centimeters away from you, you could feel his breath tickle your skin. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. So relaxed and calm. You wonder why he couldn’t look like that all the time.

But happiness and euphoria came to a halt when you both became a lot busier. Especially since the ball was right around the corner. You were lucky if you were able to even hear his voice. He would be in bed late at night and you would miss him in the mornings because of how much of an early riser he was. Sure it was disappointing now being able to see him nowadays, but after this ball, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. So there was no need to fret over it now.

You were walking down the hallway with Mina as she was teaching you more about how this palace ran. You got an idea of how your palace ran since you were basically everywhere. Bakugou’s palace was sort of the same concept, only a few things were different. You had to learn where everything was and how to run as queen and what better way for someone to show you than Mina. She was close to the Blood Prince so she had a good idea of how the palace ran. She was telling the history of the royal family, their ups and downs and their legacy. Mina was deep into conversation when a hand covered your mouth and brought you to a secluded area nearby. You make a sound of shock, but because the hand muffled the sound of your voice, Mina didn’t notice and continued walking on.

You were expecting your back to be slammed against the wall, but you were surprised when a hand gently stopped the impact. You came face to face with the one and only Blood Prince who had a smirk on his face.

“Katsuki!” your eyes welled up with tears and you immediately pulled him in for a tight hug. God, you missed his touch, his warmth, his everything. Bakugou hugged you just as tightly. He pulled away to give you a chaste kiss upon your lips. You couldn’t help but melt into him, your knees falling weak. Thankfully, Bakugou still had a good grasp on you.

“I missed you,” he breathed, letting your foreheads rest together.

“You stole my line,” you joked, kissing him again. This time, Bakugou was smiling into the kiss.

“Shouldn’t you being your princely duties,” you reminded him, trying to pull away but Bakugou wasn’t done with you just yet. He kept trying to kiss you despite you physically pulling away to talk to him. When he started getting frustrated with your refusal to kiss him, he started attacking your jaw line and your neck.

“Katsuki~” you whined.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment. I don’t have much time before they notice I’m gone,” he said in between kisses.

“You missed me that much?” you teased and you expected Bakugou to give you some snarky remark but he admit it.

“I missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he came back up to your lips, claiming you as his. He pushed your bodies together, your lips never leaving each other at that point. You both craved each other. After getting that first kiss out of the way, you weren’t afraid to kiss each other all you want. It was almost an addiction. The flavour of his lips made you crave for more. You were too immersed in each other that you didn’t notice a pink haired soldier giving you the death stare. Obviously, you weren’t going to look at her direction any time soon, so she cleared her throat, making her presence known.

“Are you done yet?” she asks, startling the both of you. You were quick to pull away from embarrassment that you got caught. But Bakugou, on the other hand, just stared at her while still saying in his pose: one arm around your waist while the other was bracing the wall. Mina didn’t hesitate to grab you, pulling you to her side.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, but I’ll have to take my girl back. I was in the middle of a lesson and if she’s going to be your queen, she’s gonna need to know this stuff!” she scolded her future King. She took your hand and personally escorted you away so she could finish what she was saying.

“Tch,” Bakugou smirked, finally standing tall and watched as his most trusted soldier took you away. Mina was the only person, besides Kirishima, who was allowed to be that sassy with him. He took another moment to look at your retreating figure before joining the rest of his soldiers who were resting against the wall, waiting for his highness to be done with his business.

As Mina had her hand in yours and continued to talk your head off, you kept looking back behind you at Bakugou. Mina noticed that you still weren’t paying attention and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes traveled to where yours was and her eyes softened.

“Are you listening to me?” she playfully scolded, placing both of her hand on her hips as if she was mad.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said sadly, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. Mina knew those eyes but she wasn’t going to fall for them so easily. Bakugou’s figure was quickly disappearing, but Mina wasn’t budging. So you jutted your bottom lips out, adding to the effect and pleaded to her. Mina knew that she was going to let you go but just wanted to give you a hard time.

“Alright, just one!” she allowed and your face just brightened up. You dashed down the hall, as quickly as you could in that dress, straight into Bakugou’s arms.

Bakugou didn’t sense it at first. He thought your little makeout session was the last he was going to see you until after his work was done. He wasn’t expecting you to make a run for it down the hall to him. Bakugou only turned around when he heard running coming closer to him. As soon as he turned around, you jumped into his arms and gave him one last passionate kiss.

Mina smiled softly as the sight, her heart full of happiness and love for the both of you. Kirishima and the boys looked away respectfully to give you guys space. Sero had to slap Denki’s face away because he was just staring so obviously.

Before Bakugou could relax into the kiss, you already pulled away and returned to Mina’s side. For the first time in his life, he had no words to say. He could only stare at you in disbelief, but in the good way. He smiled, shaking his head and continued on his way in an incredibly good mood.

You returned to Mina’s side, feeling accomplished and you both giggled like little girls.

“Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun, your highness. But I really need to tell you about this war because I think it’s so interesting and I think you’d really like it. So…” Mina babbled on, getting really excited to talk about the history of the Kingdom. Of course you were listening but your mind still wandered to a particular blonde prince that had your heads in the clouds.

You were back in Bakugou’s room, getting ready for bed. You looked in the mirror, brushing your hair out and lost in thought. The date until you officially marry Bakugou was fast approaching and still, you hadn’t told him your biggest secret. Whether you tell him now or later, he was going to be angry. Nothing was happening yet. You don’t think the real princess knows. If she did, you were sure you’d be back at the palace by now. So were you safe? There is never going to be a right time to tell him. But was it best that you took this secret to your grave? Could you handle all the guilt? No. You had to tell him. Tonight, you decided.

You had just finished brushing out your hair when you saw Bakugou enter your room, making you gasp in surprise.

“You’re back already?” you asked, getting up to greet him at the door. He welcomed you with open arms, taking in your scent.

“I’ve got to get plenty of rest for tomorrow,” he said. Ah, that’s right. The ball to celebrate your engagement was tomorrow. Already?

“Oh, so you didn’t come back early because you missed me but because you were getting ready for tomorrow. I see,” you huffed playfully, crossing your arms and walked away. Bakugou grabbed your arm before you could walk completely away from him and pulled you in close.

“Stop. You know I missed you,” he said seriously. Your hand touched his bare chest, his warm radiating from his body made your heart race. No matter how many time you could see him shirtless or how many times you’ve touched him, it would still bring butterflies to your stomach.

The same thing could be said for Bakugou. It didn’t help that you were wearing a loose, fitting nightgown, leaving everything up for the imagination. Granted, he had already seen your naked body once, but it was only a glimpse. He didn’t get a good look before so he could only imagine what it would be like when you were under him, taking your naked form all in.

Bakugou scoops your face in his large palms, bringing you close to him until he places his lips on yours, the fluttering feeling in your stomach only intensifying. He broke the kiss for both of you to catch your breaths and claimed your lips as his again. His kisses felt different, like they had a purpose. His hands started roaming around your body, making you feel hot all over. It started on your back, then slowly caressed down to your waist and then over the curves of your ass. Your mind was filled with thoughts of him that it was driving you mad.

Bakugou wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. He was craving more. Hungry for more, he moved on to kiss your neck but you tried to stop him.

“Wait, I need to tell you something first,” you grabbed onto his shoulders, but the way he moved his lips and how his tongue swiped against your skin was making you almost forget what you were about to say.

“Do you trust me?” he breathed, detaching from your neck momentarily.

“O-Of course I trust you. But it’s kind of important,” you said.

“Kind of. Surely it can wait till the morning,” Bakugou continued attacking you with kisses.

“But Katsuki-” Bakugou interrupted you by completely stopping his actions to look you dead in the eyes with the most serious expression.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. You stared into those crimson orbs of his and sighed.

“I trust you. But-” you couldn’t finish your thought because Bakugou had turned you around so that you could see yourself in the mirror.

“Whatever it is you have to say, it can wait till morning. Right now, to me, there’s nothing more important than making sure you feel like a queen,” he declared, looking at you from the mirror.

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

Bakugou starts kissing your neck again, his soft lips coming into contact with your bare skin sent chills down your spine. You allowed yourself to submit to his touch, closing your eyes to heighten your senses to his touch.

Gently and deliberately, his hands moved to the back of your gown, untying the bow. He fingers wrapped around the silk fabric, feeling every knot come undone. He goes slow, feeling the curvature of your waist, then your lips, then all the way back to your shoulders. He takes his time removing your gown, admiring your bare shoulders and back that were now exposed. Your gown falls with a soft swish to the floor. The cold air made you shiver but Bakugou made up for it by his roaming hands that were so warm to the touch.

He feels up on your naked body again, this time roaming up the front, groping your breasts in his hands and then caressing your neck. His mouth moved from your neck to your shoulders. You could feel his tongue swipe against your skin for a more tingling sensation. You didn’t want to waste another minute. You turn around and kissed him. He holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you back with the most love. You pull him closer to you, guiding him to the bed.

You fell onto the bed, his arms falling on both sides of your head. Bakugou climbs on top of you, removing his cape swiftly without disconnecting the kiss. He then scoops you up in his arms, you hands fall to rest on his cheeks and the back of his neck. Your tongues tangoed together in a lover’s dance.

God, what was happening right now? You were completely naked, Bakugou was half naked at the moment. The ambiance of the room was intense and clearly getting more heated by the second. You had no idea what you were doing nor did you know what was going to happen. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t have time to think. All you knew is that you didn’t want to stop. Your lower region became numb and tingly. You’ve never felt this sensation before. Everything was so new. Your mind was all fuzzy with thoughts of him, it was driving you crazy.

One hand roamed down to your waist while the other hand was busy doing something else. You could hear him fiddling around with his pants and the sound of it coming off. Almost immediately you could feel something hard hit your inner thighs. You jumped in shock, only imagining what it was.

You didn’t know anything about sex. You were so coped up in the palace walls and you weren’t educated on anything. The only thing you remember growing up was that you shouldn’t show your body to anybody but your partner. And that was only if you were married. But what were you doing now? You weren’t not married yet Bakugou was devouring you all over. His touch was so addicting and he was touching you in all of the right places. An unfamiliar feeling started in the pit of your stomach and there was an aching feeling in between your legs.

Bakugou broke away from the breathless kiss, saliva connecting your tongues together. He takes this time to admire your bare body. He never noticed how curvaceous you were, you were just perfect. Your chest was heaving up and down, making his eyes move to the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples were erect from how turned on you were feeling. Bakugou couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. Then he ventured lower and he almost groaned when your legs were already spread, ready to take him in. It was making him even more hard.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers. He licks his hand and started pumping his cock. If he didn’t do something soon, his cock would explode for being neglected. He moves closer to your entrance but before he could put it in, you stop him by putting your hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, panic starting to rise in you.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks. You nod your head. “I promise, I’ll make you feel so good. It’ll hurt for just a bit.” He warned. You take a deep breath, putting all your trust in him. He glances up at you. When you looked ready, he slid his dick inside you, all of it and fast. You take a sharp intake, surprised by his action and how much it hurt. So much so that you feel it in your throat. You grab onto his forearms for dear life. He leans down into you and whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, my princess. Just breath,” he tries to direct you. And so you do as you’re told. Bakugou doesn’t move and just stays still to let you adjust to his size. Slowly, you start to relax. You let your shoulders fall and allow your body to fully ease. The tightness around his cock eventually became looser. That indicated to Bakugou that that was a sign to move. Bakugou slowly thrusts into you. The feeling of pain was still there in the start, but the more you relaxed, the more you felt that pain turn into pleasure.

You started to moan, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. You’ve never felt like this before. It was all new, but making you crave more of his touch.

Bakugou groans loudly at the pleasure. He loved the sounds coming out of your mouth, the loved how your tits bounced up and down from each thrust. But he loved how you clenched around him more. Fuck, he wasn’t expecting you to be so tight. You felt so warm and despite not prepping you beforehand, you were so wet. The sounds of your slick folds meeting his cock were sinful. Suddenly, Bakugou snaps his hips into you, making him go deeper inside you. You moaned loudly and threw your head back.

“You like that?” Bakugou’s voice was raspy. You nod your head enthusiastically, almost impatiently.

“I love that,” you respond. “Do it again.” You begged. Bakugou smirks and does it again. He lets his cock be free from your clench before slamming back into you. You moan loudly again and clench around him even tighter.

“Fuck,” he curses, continuing to slam his hips into you.

Your servant girls were nosy, as all servants were. They wanted to know the gossip. The girls were right at your door, ears pressed against the giant wooden frame. They were listening in and giggling to each other. Two masculine figures appeared behind them, clearing their throats intentionally. The mighty soldiers, Kirishima and Denki, made their presence clear. They looked intimidating, arms crossed against their chest to look cool, or at least Denki was. The girls bowed their heads and scurried off. Some of them looked back to see both of them guarding the door to give you two privacy. Denki took notice of some of the girls and gave them a flirty wave. They giggled again before leaving their sight. Denki smirked and tried to give Kirishima fist, but Kiri denied it, smacking his hand away with an eye rolls and shake of the head. Denki shrugs his shoulder and put his hands on his belt.

Bakugou thrusts into you with more force and more power than before, moans are filling the air, both yours and his. You claw at his back trying to get something to grab but you’re just leaving markings on him, which he doesn’t mind. All of a sudden, Bakugou pulls out, panting and clear frustration painted all over his face.

“Fuck, not yet,” he panted, holding his cock in his hands. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but you whimpered at the loss of contact. Wanting to feel something, you grabbed his face and brought him in for a kiss. The prince groans into the kiss, that being his last straw. He pulled out wanting to last longer, but seeing that you were impatient and wanting more, he had to please his princess. He brought your legs around his shoulder and thrusted into you, not giving you time to breath.

“Mhm, ah!” you groaned, separating from the kiss. You felt excitement rapidly grow in your lower region, a feeling so pleasurable you had no idea how to take it.

“Wait, Katsuki. I feel too good,” you warned him in between moans.

“I’m almost there, too,” he said, going faster to chase his high.

“Ah! Fuck, wait! K-Katsuki! AH!” The pleasure was almost too much for you. The feeling was getting larger and larger until you couldn’t take it anymore and just let go. You threw your head back and clenched your eyes so hard you saw stars. Your pussy clenched around his cock so tightly that it was Bakugou’s turn to let go. With one last groan, your walls were coated in a thick, hot, white substance.

You both stood still, able to finally catch your breath. Bakugou leaned down to touch noses with you, his beath on yours. You were so high on cloud nine that you didn’t think before speaking.

“I lo-” you began but quickly realized what you were about to say. You put your hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying those three magical words. Don’t say it, you thought. If you said it, you’d never be able to take it back. Bakugou takes both of your hands and pinned them above your head.

“I love you, too,” he leans down to whisper in your ear. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Because you felt so happy. So happy that you didn’t want this dream to end.

A/N: Spoiler alert: enjoy this chapter. Enjoy every chapter so far. All that serotonin you’re feeling? Soak it all up. Because this is the last fluff chapter you will ever get 😊

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! And I’d love to know your thoughts, what you think of the series so far and what your expectations are for upcoming chapters! Do you want a happy or sad ending? What angsty scenes are you anticipating? What do you not want to happen?

Don’t forget! My requests are open until May 9th!

1. Send in a request or headcannon of any Boku no Hero or Haikyuu characters

2. I prefer angsty requests! As for headcannons, I'm down with any genre. If you are sending in a request, please be as descriptive as possible! Its hard to write when the topic is so broad!

3. FYI if alot of the requests are the same, I will most likely combine them all or only do one or two of them since I dont want to repeat alot of the same topics. It'll get boring: not only for the reader but for me as well

4. ❌No NSFW! Not experienced enough but I can hint at some sexiness

It would be really cool if you could send in some requests! I’ll be doing all of them to the best of my ability, you won’t be disappointed!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin @daddy-daichis @stardream14 @spicysherlock @cathwritestragediesnotsins @luvtaromilktea @aaannaabbanana @i-ameri-cant @shyonigirichan @aomi04 @anime-for-live @maggiecc @cloudsgathering @backoftheletter @moshi-moshi-angie015

[mhevarujta]

Zoya and the Darkling [Rule of Wolves Spoilers]

It’s a pity that fandoms mostly focus on romantic/sexual relationships, because The Darkling and Zoya have one of the most epic dynamics in the Grishaverse. The way they affect each other is so complex.

Zoya did not go to the Little Palace after being tested in the usual manner of Grisha travelling across Ravka to recruit children with powers. She was a young girl, a child really, living with a bitter and broken mother, in a home where her Suli inheritance was not appreciated, in a country that would condemn her both because of the power she let her demonstrated AND because of who she would have been without it. She was basically sold as a child-bride and her mother deluded herself into thinking that her daughter would not be raped by the old man she was marrying so that she’d feel better about herself, not to mention that she poisoned Zoya with her fears and made her afraid of her own heart. At the wedding her power broke loose and her aunt took her to a hard journey to the Little Palace so that Zoya would be tested and have a chance at a better life.

Zoya was taken in and she was separated from her family, but her aunt was ALWAYS in her heart. She started training and she was stronger than most, she was also driven and resilient. She arrived at the Little Palace when she was 8-9. When she was 13, she was the youngest one to be chosen as part of a group that would travel with the Darkling to Tsibeya to find the white tigers of Ilmisk because one of them was supposed to be an amplifier. By that age, Zoya was half in love with him already and she lived for his rare appearances at the school. She was the best, she had fought to be so, and he wanted him to see it. The Grisha were focused on hunting the female tiger, but the amplifier was a male one. He tried to kill the female’s cubs and Zoya gave them the protection of her body, she got scars that she never had tailored and she almost died, and killed the tiger to defend the cubs; not for the sake of power.

It wasn’t HER turn to get the amplifier, but since she killed the tiger only she could claim it. And THIS brilliant scene happens:

Some part of me always feared that he would send me away, banish me forever from the Little Palace. I told him I was sorry.

“But the Darkling saw me clearly even then. ‘Is that really what you wish to say?’ he asked.”

Zoya pushed a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. “So I told him the truth. I put my chin up and said, ‘They can all hang. It was my blood in the snow.’”

Nikolai stifled a laugh and a smile played over Zoya’s lips. It dwindled almost instantly, replaced by a troubled frown. “That pleased him. He told me it was a job well done. And then he said … ‘Beware of power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you.’”

The weight of the words settled over Nikolai. Is that what we’re all searching for? Was that what he’d hunted in all those library books? In his restless travels? In his endless pursuit to seize and then keep the throne? “Was it love you wanted, Zoya?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. I wanted … strength. Safety. I never wanted to feel helpless again.”

  “Like calls to like” fits the Darkling and Alina, but it also fits Zoya and the Darkling… in fact it fits Zoya and Aleksander even more so. Both were powerful and KNEW it. Both eventually learned to be unapologetic about it and saw it as their safety net. Both were taught that power would give them safety, survival, fulfillment in some ways, but not love. And yet, as much as they denied it and hid their hearts they DID want to be loved more than anything.

Zoya only rises thereafter. She gets her rank, she is one of the most valued Grisha in the Little Palace, she is admired for her strength and beauty, she armors herself with arrogance, and ruthlessness. But she has not friends. Both her and the Darkling are surrounded by people, they are admired, but they don’t have people close to their heart. The Darkling always cared about Baghra as much as he could still manage and Zoya cared only bout Liliyana and Lada (an orphan girl that her aunt had taken in).

The Darkling SAW her. He saw how she tried like no other, he saw her pain, her anger and he considered these to be things that he could use to control her and to push her towards the direction he desired. And despite not being appreciative of her devotion when he had it, he missed it when it was gone.

When Alina got in the picture everything changed for Zoya. Yes, Zoya had feelings for the Darkling and I DO believe that her feelings and vanity would have been hurt to some extent by the intimacy in the way he approached Alina, but the primary problem was Zoya’s sense of injustice. Zoya had tried for YEARS, had trained hard, had sacrificed to be where she is. Alina never asked for any of it, but from Zoya’s perspective Alina would have been an untrained Grisha who got all the status, power and recognition that SHE had fought for without even trying. Until then, Zoya had been praised for wanting power, but when her anger is not convenient anymore, the Darkling punishes her for it and does not have a second thought about her.

And yet she remained loyal as always.

Even more so than rank, the Darkling and Liliyana were Zoya’s safety-net. And in ONE MOMENT, by genociding Novokribirsk, Zoya’s own mentor, the one who gave her safety and who was meant to create a haven for the Grisha, a person who KNEW her and who KNEW that she had family there, showed that he had no care for her, not care for human life and she wiped out the last people that Zoya loved.

He left her broken inside. In Siege and Storm, Zoya was at her lowest. She has to plead to Alina to have a position in the second army and she has to reveal a part of her heart; not just her loss of Liliyana. Her voice BREAKS when she says that the Darkling could have warned her of his plan; her pain at the idea that he did not give a crap about taking EVERYTHING from her is raw and cutting.

But she is not a quitter. She adjusts, she pulls her pieces together fast, she is a warrior and she stays on the right side without a question.

Then the Darkling attacked the very Grisha he was supposedly fighting for and killed half the people that Zoya had EVER KNOWN. And she still keeps fighting.

 Enter Rule of Wolves. There is SUCH DEEP IRONY in this book and the way Zoya and the Darkling’s arcs interconnect is a prime example of Leigh’s amazing writing.

The Darkling had told Zoya that they would change the world and he completely stopped paying attention to her the moment the potential of Alina’s power blinded him to anything else. And yet, when he returns Zoya has gained the kind of power that could eventually rival his own. But he STILL thinks that he should be the one to rule Ravka. He still thinks that he is the best option for the country. And once more, he criminally underestimates Zoya and overestimates himself.

Who else is vengeful and afraid of his own heart, I wonder…

Aleksander considered Zoya weak for the very same things that were his own fatal flaws.

But unlike him, Zoya SAW her flaws. The Darkling shut himself off more and more in order to save himself from pain. Zoya eventually opened up her heart to grief and pain to become the person her country needed and to embrace her power. She opened the door, when the Darkling did not manage to do so. She showed more courage than he did… and he SAW it.

Aleksander hoped to become the savior during the battle, he wished to demonstrate how only HE could save Ravka. But seeing Nikolai and Zoya defending the country is the first time it registers that there are others who are up to the task and who may be better suited than he is.

And he becomes essential in Zoya being accepted as a saint and in her rise to power partly because he wants to gain her favor but also because he finally sees all her potential, all she can achieve, how a Grisha queen of such power might give the Grisha the haven they need, when he clearly can’t.

And what is left for him to do? What does he want? He wants to serve the country he loves in a way that will affirm his sense of self-importance (he wants to offer something that no one else can) and he wants to be loved. So his new objective is to stop the blight.

The blight was created because of his own power. This man who hunted down and ruined the life of a young girl (Alina) in order to force her to be his balance, so that he could freely use his power in a very imbalanced way, finally realizes that HE is responsible for his power and that HE can be the only one to balance it and himself. So there is a new path he sees ahead of him: he can sacrifice himself to stop the blight and in the process Ravka might finally see that he always wanted to protect the country… and it might love him back. He KNOWS that he has committed crimes, he does not seek redemption, but he desired for all he has done to matter. And it can’t matter if he is not at all responsible for its country’s well-being and if everyone hates him. He has lived so many lifetimes without happiness or fulfillment and they would all have been wasted.

But he can’t achieve this by himself. This man who always thought that he could do things alone, and who took away everything Zoya had fought for, NEEDS her allowance for his centuries-long life to gain a scrap of meaning. He needs her allowance to be appreciated and loved.

I can’t be the only one who sees what a beautiful twist of fate this is.

At the same time Zoya herself understands the Darkling. She understands how anger and using power as a coping mechanism can corrupt. Knowing herself and seeing how he turned out are essential in her becoming a good ruler. He is the cautionary tale of what she could but will never allow herself to become.

When he explains his plan, she KNOWS that he’ll be in eternal pain and she has does not mind that his will be his fate. But when she sees the aftermath of his sacrifice and when she feels the kind of pain he’ll be experiencing for eternity, it leaves her shaken. She feels that pain in her own heart and this is not a fate that she wishes even on him. Genya and Alina are very much willing to let him rot but Zoya, who also believed that she could forgive him, feels that she has to.The Darkling has not redeem himself. He is doing penance. But as Genya mentions, there’s a fine line when one has to do the math of how much a person has to pay and of how much pain they have to feel before their punishment stops being just and they become victims instead. Zoya, being afraid of becoming him, knows that learning to show forgiveness is the only way forward, it’s the way for her to keep her heart open and not become the avalanche.

Zoya Nazyalensky has become everything that Aleksander Morozova, the lost boy, wished to be. Poweful, eternal, with friends, with a true partner, holding the best position a Grisha could imagine without forcing her rule and finally giving their people a true chance without comprominsing them. 

The Darkling was hoping that Alina would have been his balance. We are told how she might make him a better man and she might make him a monster.

But at the end of the day it’s Zoya who allows the Darkling to become the closest thing to decent that he can be at this point.

It’s the Darkling’s life that allows Zoya to see the lines that she will not cross and how to not become a monster.

And it’s Zoya’s ability to forgive him and her willingness to save him that becomes the backbone for the next phase of the Grishaverse, whenever Leigh decides to write it.

The way their paths entangle will always be at the core of the story.

_______________________

@myfriendscallmeraba​ I’m tagging you because you asked for it. It’s very encouraging to have someone interested in my ramblings.

[ackerfics]

so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead. 

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.  

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

-

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires. 

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice. 

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

-

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor. 

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

-

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach. 

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess. 

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

-

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom. 

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time. 

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

-

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was. 

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers. 

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody. 

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 1: Introductions

AO3 Link

Words: 5543

-----

Alex POV

...

Of course. 

Of fucking course.

He’d known it was coming, yeah, but that didn’t change the fact that, despite his friendship with Princess Julie, Alex had no desire to marry her. And now, after begging not to be married off, he was still stuck in this deal.

It had nothing to do with Julie herself, of course; Julie was a kind, loving, musical girl around his age. The issue was that he was gay. Marrying a girl was not something he was interested in. 

Julie knew Alex was gay; he’d come out to her after he was sure she would accept him, which he knew she would after she mentioned her best friend being a lesbian, and her being bisexual herself. Needless to say, neither of them had been thrilled by the announcement a couple years back that they would be getting married, for more reasons than the fact that nobody wants to be in an arranged marriage. 

And now, in three months time, he would be at the alter with a girl he wasn’t in love with. 

Alex knew it wouldn’t be that bad; in fact, he and Julie were quite close friends. Their kingdoms, Tambor and Dahlia respectively, were close allies. But for some godforsaken reason, their leaders had felt the need to strengthen their allyship by setting up their heirs in an arranged marriage. Had Alex been the oldest, this wouldn’t have been the case. However, it wouldn’t be him, but his older sister, Ava, taking the throne of Tambor. 

He, along with his guards, would be travelling to Dahlia this evening. He hated that it was so soon. Not that he wasn’t excited to see Julie, he was, but it was the reason that put a knot in his stomach.

Alex allowed himself one more panic attack before getting ready. As a treat.

The warm sun streaming into his room felt out of place with the dread settling in his stomach, and his breath choked, his heart racing, salty tears streaming down his face. He clenched his hands into fists and back out, trying to calm himself despite the emotional release. His nails dug into his palm, not hard enough to cut, but enough to leave little indents that he then ran his fingertips across. 

Trying to pull himself together, he stood - albeit shakily - and walked across the soft, carpeted floor to his full-length mirror, pleasantly surprised as he noted that he wasn’t as big of a mess as he’d expected, given his previous panic. 

A knock on his door alerted him that his head butler was there to help him get ready for the jet ride.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Alex didn’t answer, grateful for Luke’s steady voice outside his door.

“He’s a little panicky at the moment. Maybe give him a few minutes to settle?” he suggested, and Alex hoped Luke was receiving the strong thank you vibes he was trying to transmit telepathically. 

Any time Alex had a panic attack, he was semi-verbal. He could speak if he really, really tried, but it generally took a great deal of effort. He and Luke had a system, though; if Alex needed support during a panic attack, he would fake-sneeze three times, and Luke would come in from his station outside Alex’s door. 

Alex allowed himself another minute to calm his breathing and wipe the tears from his face, practicing the grounding exercise Julie had taught him. 

Inhale- 1, 2, 3, 4

Hold- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Exhale- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

It helped a lot, and soon he was able to straighten his hair and begin changing into the suit his tailors had made just for this occasion. 

Another knock echoed from his door, and Alex took one final deep breath to compose himself. 

“Come in,” he said, proud of how steady his voice was. 

The butler entered; a kind man named Erik, who Alex had gotten to know over the past month or so. His olive skin shone in the afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

Alex dressed himself, for the most part; having butlers help him dress was never something he particularly enjoyed. He allowed Erik to smooth his white dress shirt, though; no matter how many times Alex had practiced tucking in his shirts, they always ended up wrinkled. 

He slid the navy suit vest over the shirt once it was nice and smooth, fastening the thick buttons over his stomach. Minimalistic gold embroidery on the vest sparkled in the light, and Alex couldn’t help but smile at the bit of flair. He’d been half-hoping that his matching navy pants would have a bit of sparkle as well, but to no avail. Probably for the best, he decided. Just a little touch was enough. 

He fixed the cuff of his sleeve, taking a breath as Erik reached up with a comb to fix his hair. It was simple but refined, how it always was. 

“Erik, you’ve outdone yourself with this one, bro!” Alex said excitedly. He might not be very pleased about being in an arranged marriage, but he could appreciate a good suit. “I love the details.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Erik beamed with the praise. “May I?” he asked, reaching for Alex’s shoulders. Alex nodded, and Erik smoothed the vest’s warm fabric, readjusting the hem until it was aligned perfectly. 

He might not have been the type of guy to always wear suits, unless necessary, but Alex had to admit it. He looked good. The slim fit outlined his muscles, and the deep blue of the vest and pants brought out the bluish tints in his blue-green-grey eyes. (nobody could seem to decide what color they actually were). The small touches of golden embroidery shone and somehow managed to accentuate the sun-born highlights in his hair. 

“You look wonderful, your highness.”

“Thanks, Erik. And you can call me Alex, we’re chill.” Alex had been insisting to Erik that he could be casual around him for months, but Erik still generally referred to him as “your highness.”

“Alex,” he corrected with a broad smile. “Well, Alex, you have a photoshoot for the press in ten minutes, so if there’s anything else I can do to get you ready, don’t hesitate to ask. Though I must say, you look awesome.” Alex let out a small laugh. 

“Thanks, dude. Oh, wait, before you go, could you tell me something?”

“Of course,” Erik replied. Alex put on his Serious Face.

“Do these pants make my butt look big?” Erik bust out laughing, and Alex couldn’t help but do the same. 

...

Three hours later, Alex was finally done with an exhaustive photoshoot. He hated having his picture taken; add that to the list of anxieties. He had to make sure he looked perfect, or everything could go wrong; that was what his parents had drilled into him from the moment he had his first real photoshoot. 

Of course, he still had to endure an interview with the Tambor Times Magazine, which he was dreading. Speaking to an overeager journalist with no respect for privacy was never something he looked forward to. 

“What are your thoughts on the marriage that has been arranged between you and Her Royal Highness, Princess Julie of Dahlia?” Alex cleared his throat.

“It’s definitely a unique situation,” he started. “I mean, not every nineteen-year-old is part of an arranged marriage.” He did his best to keep his voice light, and it must’ve worked, because the journalist gave a laugh and moved on. 

“If I may, what is your current relationship with her?”

“The princess and I share a close bond,” was the only answer he gave. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going,” he added. “I have a flight to catch.” He grinned - He didn’t have to catch any flight. He would be on the royal family private jet. But the journalist smiled and shook his hand, instructing him to have a wonderful evening, and he did the same. 

The bit about catching a flight wasn’t entirely false, though; soon, he had wished his parents a good evening and boarded the jet with his suitcases, hoping to leave his anxiety in Tambor.

-----

Julie POV

...

So.

Here’s the thing. 

Julie liked Alex, she really did. He was one of her closest friends (princesses don’t get out much). But he was gay, And Julie was decidedly Not A Guy. Plus, they both knew their connection was strongest platonically, anyway. 

Of course, none of that matters in diplomacy. 

Julie had tried many, many times to get out of the arranged marriage. But she’d just turned eighteen, and Alex nineteen, and apparently their kingdoms had no such qualms about marrying off teenagers. 

At least her dad, King Ray, had tried to get her out of it. But even as king, there was only so much he could do; everybody except for him thought it was a grand idea, because Of Course They Did. And once the public had heard the news, when she was sixteen, Julie couldn’t look out her window without seeing photographers outside the palace gates for a week. 

She supposed there was nothing she could do about it now, though, no matter how much she wanted to, for her sake and Alex’s. 

At least he was someone she got along with well. She knew they would never be in love, for multiple reasons, but she wouldn’t be unhappy. Alex might, though. They’d stayed up late on many a night, him rambling about cute guys he’d seen amongst the palace staff or on his occasional trip to the city, her chatting about songs she’d been writing and the one guy she’d had a crush on, Nick. 

Nick was the son of a nobleman her dad was very close with, and they were good friends, but she’d never acted on her little crush. Her feelings for Nick hadn’t really gone anywhere, it was just a lingering crush she’d had for a few years, but one that had faded with time.

Julie sighed, smoothing out her dress. It was simple but elegant, with a little bit of Julie flair. The silky violet fabric was cut in a slim fit to her waist, before gently flaring outwards towards her ankles. Off-the-shoulder straps revealed the dark skin of her shoulders, and the pearly embroidery of dahlia flowers around her waist shone in the light, tapering off as she twirled, though as she practiced her camera smile, it didn’t reach her eyes. 

Alex was her friend, but neither of them wanted to get married. But she’d tried her hardest to get them out of it, to no avail. 

So, as she sat down at her vanity, Julie closed her eyes and reminded herself the words her mother used to tell her every time she was scared. 

It’ll all be okay, Jules. You’re strong, and you’re a diamond in the rough.

The words settled her stomach a little bit. 

Her lady-in-waiting, Mira, knocked on her door. 

“Come in,” Julie said. Mira bustled in, her flaming red hair pulled into a messy bun, her brown eyes sparkling. 

“Oh, Jules, you look lovely.” Julie smiled.

“Thanks, Mira. How’s my hair?” Julie reached up to smooth her curls, which had been combed back and woven into a thick, braided knot at the base of her neck.  

“Almost perfect, but it needs a little something,” Mira decided with a smirk. Julie had no idea what Mira had in mind, but she knew she would love it. 

Before either of them could say another word, Flynn walked into Julie’s room, followed by her girlfriend, Carrie. 

“Hey, underachiever,” Flynn greeted with a smile.

“Hey, disappointment!”

“Dude,” Flynn said, a serious look on her face. “That dress is the shit!” Carrie nodded enthusiastically. 

“A definite look.”

“Thanks guys,” Julie said with a grin. “I love it, too! Mira’s got some sort of magic in her hands, because this is one of my favorites for sure.” Mira blushed. 

“Well, I’m not quite done,” she admitted. “Jules, your color scheme is pink, purple, and blue, usually, right?”

“Yeah, usually! I can always get behind some other colors, though.”

“Of course. But I think for this dress, the pink-purple-blue scheme would fit the best.”

“Definitely,” Carrie jumped in. “The purple mediates the pink and blue, so those are like side accents.” 

“I like this one,” Mira decided, pointing at Carrie. Carrie flipped her hair and smiled. “But yes. So, I was thinking for your hair, we could weave in some thin ribbons in those colors? It would be super simple, wouldn’t even have to take it out and restyle it.”

“Work your magic,” Julie instructed. Mira grinned excitedly and set to work, sitting Julie down at the vanity.

“Okay, Jules,” Flynn sighed. “I know you don’t want me to ask this, but are you doing okay?” Carrie took Flynn’s arm and nodded. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Either of you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Julie decided. She didn’t want to marry Alex, and she knew he felt the same way. “At least it’s not somebody I hate, though. Alex and I get along really well.”

“I know,” Carrie added. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be okay.” A single tear rolled down Julie’s cheek, and she was grateful she hadn’t done her makeup yet.

“Thanks. To be honest, I’m not really okay, but I’ll live. And besides, it’s not for another three months. And having another friend around for a few months will be nice. Before, you know, I have to marry him.” Flynn let out a sad laugh. 

“If I may add my input,” Mira began, “I’ve always hated the prospect of arranged marriages. At the very least, both people should have to agree with it.” Julie nodded, quickly stopping when she felt the ribbons Mira was weaving into her hair tug. “Sorry,” she added. “I’ll be done in just a moment.”

“I agree,” Carrie said. “It’s stupid. Dahlia and Tambor are already allies, so why are they even doing this?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. My dad says it’s to ‘strengthen agreeability between our separate civilians.’ But at least tried to get me out of it,” she added. “King Xavier and Queen Claire both thought it was a great idea.” Julie had always held some bitterness towards Alex’s parents, given their closed-mindedness and apathy towards minorities and less fortunate people. Alex had always felt the same, and avoided coming out to them for those reasons. 

“Well, I personally think it’s homophobic that my best friend is being forced to be part of an arranged marriage,” Flynn decided, “because I’m gay and it annoys me. Plus, you know, she doesn’t want to be part of it.” Julie couldn’t help but laugh at that, as did Mira. 

“All done with the ribbons,” she said, handing Julie a mirror to see the back of her head. 

“Oh, Mira, I love it!” The ribbons were braided through her thick hair, swooping around the knot, twisting through her own curls and holding the hairstyle together perfectly. Both pretty and practical. 

“I’m glad!” Mira looked very proud of herself, for a good reason. Julie’s lady-in-waiting was definitely a woman to be admired (and feared - she’d taken down a full-grown man in a self defense class, while wearing heels). Julie could walk in heels, even run in them, but she’d tried fighting in them, and failed miserably. She might’ve been competent fighting in regular shoes, but heels were a different story. Mira, though, could do it all. 

Mira’s phone dinged. 

“Oh, Jules, it’s time for the pre-meetup photoshoot!”

“Got it. Thanks, Mira, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Forget about your photoshoots, probably.”

…

The photoshoot involved lots of candid shots of her in the garden, doing her best to look serene, and not show the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. But somehow, she actually managed to get through it without losing it. 

“Wonderful, miss. Turn towards me, look to your left- yes, perfect.” The photographer’s voice faded as she obeyed his instructions, a human robot running correctly but with wandering thoughts. 

“You look so natural, miss!” he complimented. Julie offered a smile, returning to her thoughts. There had to be a way to get her and Alex out of this. But she couldn’t think of any that wasn’t treasonous, illegal, or flat-out stupid. Of course, as a teenage girl, she felt she deserved to be a little stupid sometimes, but apparently that was “unbecoming of a princess” and “a bad influence.” Personally, she just thought that was biphobic.

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke hadn’t ever traveled much, let alone to a neighboring kingdom, so needless to say, he was pumped to get to visit Dahlia for three months at least. His hope was that, even though no one involved wanted the marriage to happen, they could find a bright side in him getting to stay with his best friend. 

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he felt bad for his charge and best friend, Alex. He knew Alex was gay; in fact, they’d “dated” for a few weeks when they were fourteen. But even after deciding they were better as friends, they were close, maybe even closer afterwards. Luke told Alex everything; he didn’t know if he had a secret that Alex didn’t know. 

Everyone in the palace was used to seeing him and Alex wandering the grounds, goofing off, messing around in the music studio, what have you. Technically, Luke was a junior guardsman, and given his bond with the prince, had been assigned (along with an actual guard) to be his security detail. That had evolved into an even stronger friendship, though. Years passed, and soon they were inseparable. 

Luke had done his best to cheer up Alex; seeing his best friend that upset was heartbreaking. But there was nothing he could actually do to help, so he settled for laying next to Alex on the floor and staring at the high ceilings.

An hour passed, and soon the afternoon sun was streaming into Alex’s room. Luke saw Alex drag a hand down his face. 

“I guess you should start getting ready, then?” he asked.

“Probably.” Luke patted his shoulder. “Do you think it would be too drastic to fake my death?” Luke laughed, knowing Alex was joking, though it wouldn’t have actually surprised him. Alex and Julie were friends, but neither of them wanted to get married. Especially not the gay guy, very publicly, to a girl. 

Luke stood up, giving Alex a mock salute, and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

He stood there for a few minutes, straightening his back as a senior guardsman passed him. He ducked his head in a nod, relaxing a moment later. As much as he might’ve come off as a chill guy, he was worried for Alex; even more so when he heard Alex’s breathing quicken from the other side of the wall, his footsteps pacing back and forth. 

The panic attack shouldn’t have surprised him. Alex had clinical anxiety, and this was probably one of the most stress-inducing times of his life. Being forced into an arranged marriage - even if you’re friends with the other person - is no fun for anybody. And today he would be going to the Dahlia palace to stay for three months before the ceremony.

Luke fiddled with the hem of his jacket; it was charcoal black, and thick and protective, with eight buttons on the wide front, crossing his chest. He’d gotten used to it, but despite that, he still started sweating in the warm weather of Tambor. The red sash crossing over the jacket had golden embroidery on the edges, and he quite enjoyed running his fingers over the textured thread. 

Luke could still hear Alex panicking, but there were no sets of three fake sneezes in between the rapid breaths, so he stayed. Alex was able to recognize when he needed support, and when he needed to be left alone. 

Luke spotted Erik nearing him. He couldn’t stop him, but Erik was aware of Alex’s anxiety, so Luke wasn’t concerned. He smiled at Erik, giving him a look, warning him that Alex was having a panic attack. Erik nodded, knocking gently on the door. 

“Your highness, are you alright?” When Alex didn’t respond, Luke jumped in. 

“He’s a little panicky at the moment. Maybe give him a few minutes to settle?” Erik nodded, and Luke gave a relieved smile. 

“You look nervous as well,” Erik noted. 

“Well, I am, a little bit,” Luke admitted. “I’ve never been to Dahlia, but I’m going with Alex since I’m his head guard and Royal Best Dude™.” Erik grinned. “I’m excited, though! I bet it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“I’m so jealous,” Erik told him. “I’ve never been outside of Tambor.”

“I’m worried for Alex, though. He’s really nervous.”

“Yeah,” Erik agreed, a flicker of understanding rushing across his face that made Luke smile despite himself. If he was being honest, Luke had a tiny crush on Erik, but nothing substantial. “I mean, it’s gotta suck being closeted to everyone but a few people, and having to marry a girl.” Luke nodded. 

“I wish there was something we could do about it.”

…

Luke stood guard off-camera while Alex had his pre-meetup photoshoot and interview. It was what he always did, though this time it felt different, like he was a silent supporter during a tough time, now more than ever. 

If nothing else, he could reassure Alex that he looked fabulous in his suit - it wasn’t a lie, either. The navy blue fabric complimented his eyes perfectly, and the golden details were a stunning addition. Tie that with his sharp jaw and awkward, endearing personality? Anybody would simp for him. He had a feeling that many people did, too; Some of Alex’s best photos from these shoots would be printed in the Tambor Times Magazine, and he would also post some - as well as his own selfies - on his instagram. Luke had seen the comments, and always smirked at Alex given the amount of heart-eyed emojis and key smashes there were. 

Luke stood behind the cameraman for the candid shots where they needed Alex to be smiling or laughing. No matter how much he practiced, Alex could never get a good candid smile, so Luke took it upon himself to stand behind the photographer making faces, or occasionally imitating their every move with mock seriousness. 

When Alex’s musical laugh rang through the air, Luke patted himself on the back. 

Worked every time. 

He worked his magic for a few more shots afterwards, doing his best to make Alex laugh. It wasn’t just for the photos, though, it was to help him settle down. Luke knew this was a horrible situation, but there was nothing he could do to stop it, so he’d have to try to make it more bearable. 

After Alex’s interview, Luke could tell that the reality of the situation was hitting him even more, as a flicker of fear shadowed his face, his hands clenched into fists. Luke walked towards him slowly, making sure Alex was okay with it, and when he didn’t retract, he put his hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. And as Alex seemed to relax, nodding and pulling Luke into a hug, that was when he knew.

Alex was his best friend, and didn’t deserve any of this pain or fear. He deserved for things to be okay.

Luke would keep that promise, no matter what.

-----

Reggie POV

...

Reggie knew he was Princess Julie’s honorary older brother; it had been that way for years, after he ran away from his own pathetic excuse for a home. He was lucky King Ray was a kind man; he could’ve just as easily left him there where he’d found him, a nine-year-old in the street of the raining Dahlia capital city. But he’d taken Reggie in, and soon, Reggie was part of the royal family, even if not by blood. 

Now, given that he was Julie’s honorary older brother, he hated that she was being put into an arranged marriage. She was eighteen, for God’s sake! Reggie was nineteen, and knew for a fact he wouldn’t have been able to handle it nearly as gracefully as she did. Then again, while she was young, playful, and vibrant, Julie was also the epitome of grace and poise; she’d grown up in a palace, after all. 

Needless to say, though, Reggie was sure he wouldn’t be able to not be protective of Julie when Prince Alexander came. He’d met him before, but only briefly; in passing after dinner during visits, mostly. It did help Reggie’s nerves to remember that Alexander was a very sweet, reserved person from his own interactions with the man. But that was his little sister, and while she wasn’t completely devastated, Reggie knew she didn’t want it to happen. 

He dragged a hand down his face, flopping down on his bed. He wanted so badly to help Julie out of this, but he couldn’t. 

Hey, at least he could cheer her up with his jokes! She always said they were awful, but Reggie knew better. Only the finest of jokes could make Her Royal Highness, Princess Julie Molina of Dahlia, laugh until her sides hurt, even coming from her honorary older brother, Sir Reginald Molina. 

He smiled to himself. He might not be able to stop this whole predicament, but he could help her through it.

Reggie hopped up, fixing his suit. The silky red fabric of the vest hadn’t creased at all, nor had his grey suit pants, and yet he still felt the need. He did, however, roll the sleeves of his black dress shirt to expose his forearms, because come on. Even with Dahlia’s cool climate, he still got hot, especially when the sun was streaming through his windows, and he had a few photos outside before Prince Alexander’s arrival. Plus, it didn’t hurt that, according to his Instagram followers, the rolled sleeves made him look “personable” and “hotter than the sun.” 

Reggie ran a finger over the shimmering black embroidery of the vest, then winking at the mirror and pulling his best finger guns. It was his god-given right as a fancy bisexual. 

He ran his hand through his expertly-styled hair, letting some of his waves free from their stiff hold. It wasn’t the perfect style it had been when his butler styled it a couple hours ago, but it was more of his own style, which he liked a bit better. Spinning on his heel and slipping a hand in his pocket, Reggie walked out his door and down the light-filled corridor, down to the front steps, waving to Mira along the way. As he stepped outside, he heard people outside of the palace gates start shouting. He gave a wink and playful salute, even daring to blow a kiss in the general direction of a cute girl. He noticed Julie rolling her eyes, the photographer seizing the moment to take some shots of him on the palace steps. 

He jogged over to Julie, wrapping his arm around her. 

“How are you doing, your highness?”

“I’m doing okay,” she said, though both of them knew it was a lie. “How about you, Reg?”

“I’m okay as well. Just popping in to see my fangirls-” he winked at the crowd behind the gate, and a chorus of teenage girls (and a few boys) all sighed dreamily- “and check on you. We both know you’re lying.” Julie groaned.

“This whole thing just sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed. “But I’ll be here for you every step of the way. You know that, right dude?”

“You’re such a sappy loser,” she told him, and he put her in a playful headlock, posing for the camera.

“I know.” Reggie might’ve been a “sappy loser” of a brother, but he knew that, in Julie’s book, he was a sappy loser (affectionate), and that she understood that he was there for her. 

Hopefully that would be enough. 

-----

Willie POV

...

Willie had never actually gotten to know Princess Julie, but he’d met her a couple times. He was a chef in the palace kitchens, and on occasion, Julie would come down to try to get to know people. He’d never truly had a long conversation with her, but in the interactions they’d had, she was kind, and had a musical air to her. 

He’d seen pictures of the prince she was set to marry, Prince Alexander of Tambor. If Willie was being honest, he was kind of cute.

Okay, really cute. 

He’d never actually met the guy, but he seemed nice. His photos on Instagram had good vibes, at least. Willie couldn’t help but hope he’d get to meet him when he came to visit. If it was just because his brain was screaming cute boy, that was nobody’s business but his. 

Willie sprinkled more flour on the dough he was kneading, folding it in some more. It was cathartic, this repetitive motion. It helped calm his ADHD sometimes. He kept going.

Sprinkle. Fold. Roll.

Sprinkle. Fold. Roll.

Kneading the dough until it wasn’t sticky, he listened to the head chef, Lilian, shout orders at the rest of them. She was a very intimidating woman, tall and muscular, with raven black hair in a sleek ponytail, and fair skin flecked with flour. But she was quite kind, Willie had come to learn over the years. She was just one of those people who scared you if you didn’t know them. 

He put the dough in a pan, setting it in the oven and flicking on the light so he could monitor its progress, as could anyone else walking by. Wiping the flour from his hands to his apron, he then put his dishes and utensils in the giant dishwasher, finally washing his hands and grabbing a new bowl. 

Tonight was the welcome feast for Prince Alexander. Willie and a few others were in charge of baking loaves of bread for the appetizers, as well as making the desserts; today, mini chocolate mousse cakes. 

Dessert was always Willie’s favorite course to prepare, and not just because he could steal bits of frosting from the spatulas after he was finished. It was also because of how making desserts seemed to put everyone in the kitchens in a good mood. Maybe it was the smell of rising sugar, or the bright colors of the tubs of sprinkles, but he adored it. 

He cracked the eggs into the mixture of butter and sugar, adding the milk and flour soon after. As he poured in the cocoa powder, a little bit poofed up, creating a chocolatey cloud. The noise of the mixture did nothing to silence his racing thoughts, though. 

Would he get to meet Prince Alexander?

Would he like him?

And most importantly, why did he want to so badly? 

Willie shook his head, doling the batter into mini cake pans and tapping them on the counter to get rid of any air bubbles, sticking them in an oven after it beeped to temperature. 

Another oven beeped.

“Hey, Alyssa?” he called to a plump woman a few meters away. “Could you check on the bread in that oven to your right?” She nodded and leaned down, giving him a thumbs up.

“Probably needs another minute or so, but it looks great.”

“Sick, thanks!” Alyssa nodded and smiled, her dyed-purple hair shimmering in its bun. 

Willie grabbed the ingredients he would need for the mousse, arranged them on the counter, then jogged over to the other oven and pulled out the bread - without putting on oven mitts.

He hissed in pain but didn’t let go, quickly putting it on the stovetop and running to a sink to run his fingers under cold water.

Willie already had tons of scars and calluses on his hands, both from cooking and skateboarding on his off-days, so the burn didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it would’ve a few years ago. And by some miracle, it didn’t blister - though it did swell and turn red. Willie cursed under his breath, heading to the first-aid kit and smearing some ointment on it and covering it with a bandage. 

“Let me guess,” said Lilian from behind him. “You forgot oven mitts again?”

“Guilty,” he said with a grin. Lilian sighed, but didn’t manage to hide her smile. 

“Willie, you need to be more careful. I know your brain always has, like twenty thoughts going at all times, but you could hurt yourself.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected. “And I know, but you only live once, and I didn’t want the bread to burn.”

“Five seconds to grab a mitt wouldn’t burn the bread.”

“Hey, there’s a first time for everything.” Lilian rolled her eyes and gently swatted him on the shoulder. It wasn’t a mean move, of course, it was her saying she was exasperated but that she cared about you. Willie laughed and went back to his mixing bowl, getting ready to prepare the mousse.

This would be perfect.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt2

if you’d like to read part 1, click here! 

thanks so much for reading!! i hope you guys are enjoying it. if you have any ideas/thoughts about how this story should go, message me!! i have a pretty good idea about where i want to go with this but i’m always open to suggestions :) also i apologize for this chapter being shorter! 

Things started to change the summer of her eleventh year. The two families spent yet another summer on Ember Island. Since her family was of a lesser status than Zuko’s, (Y/N’s) summer house was in a completely different section of the island. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind it. She tended to travel to Zuko’s house rather than the other way around, because Zuko was required to use a palanquin to travel around the island and they both agreed that it was horribly embarrassing. 

---

After Prince Zuko’s birthday celebration, (Y/N) had been invited to the Fire Lord’s Palace much more frequently. While she did not mind being with Zuko and Azula at all, she couldn’t understand it. Her father and mother were not being invited to the palace, so why was she going?

“Perhaps the Fire Lord would like to keep an eye on the future of our nation,” was the only explanation her father had provided. It satisfied her to think that Fire Lord Azulon admired her bending skills that greatly that he would want to keep her close to his own family. 

Throughout the years, every aspect of her life had become entwined with the royal family’s. Their families vacationed together at Ember Island every summer. She even joined Zuko and Azula’s firebending lessons. She did not mind being invited to the palace every day. As she grew older, the tension between herself and her mother amplified, so it was a relief to be able to get away from her family. When she was at the palace, she was treated almost like royalty. Azula and Zuko reminded her of her place occasionally, the former sometimes more harshly than the latter. While she did consider herself to be friends with Azula, and although she would never admit it, (Y/N) preferred to spent her time with Zuko. They had become fast friends since the night of his birthday celebration. When she was not at the palace, they exchanged letters which updated each other on every aspect of their lives. When she was at the palace, she and Zuko were attached at the hip. Where Zuko went, (Y/N) went, and vice versa. 

Things started to change the summer of her eleventh year. The two families spent yet another summer on Ember Island. Since her family was of a lesser status than Zuko’s, (Y/N’s) summer house was in a completely different section of the island. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind it. She tended to travel to Zuko’s house rather than the other way around, because Zuko was required to use a palanquin to travel around the island and they both agreed that it was horribly embarrassing. 

She walked through the town square and waved to friends that were also there for the summer. Her beach bag bounced against her hip. Zuko promised that they would go swimming today. He wasn’t a big fan of water, but she had won a bet over who could fit the most Fire Flakes into their mouth. 

(Y/N) bounced up to the steps of the royal family’s beach house and knocked. A servant answered the door. “Hello!” She said, a bright smile on her face. “Is Zuko free?” Despite his family being away for the summer, (Y/N) found herself waiting around for Zuko a lot because of his duties. The servant nodded and left silently to alert the twelve-year-old of her presence. 

“Beach day with Zuzu?” She peaked around the corner to see Azula reading a Fire Nation newspaper. The young princess was only ten, but she had more than proven how vicious she could be. (Y/N) didn’t mind. Azula could be a pain sometimes, but she was mostly harmless. She had spent a lot of time with Azula and could see the small acts of kindness the girl was capable of. 

“Yeah! Would you like to join us?” 

“I think I’ll stay home today. I doubt Zuzu would want me to ruin the proposal.” 

(Y/N) blinked at her friend. “I’m sorry?” 

Azula smirked. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. You two have just been spending so much time together that I thought you knew.” 

“Azula, I would really appreciate it if you would stop being so vague.” 

Azula rolled her eyes. “Why do you think Grandfather made you present your firebending at Zuko’s birthday? Or why you’re always at the royal palace? Or why you’re always spending time with us?” 

“I...I don’t know what I thought--” Azula turned back to her newspaper. 

“They’ve been grooming you to marry Zuko. I heard our fathers talking about it before we came here. It’s only a matter of time before the proposal becomes official.” 

Zuko entered the room then, wrapped in a Fire Nation robe. He glared at his sister, but smiled at his friend. “Are you ready to go?” 

Azula giggled but remained quiet. She nodded, unsure of whether or not she could trust her voice. 

The two walked in silence down to the beach, which was very uncommon for them. Usually, she had some sort of story to share about how ridiculous her mother was being, but now she could only think of what Azula had said. It made her feel a bit rotten that the royal family only wanted her around to make sure that she would be a good wife for Zuko. And what did Azula mean, that it was only a matter of time before the proposal becomes official? (Y/N) was eleven! She was far too young to get married and far too young to even consider it! Sure, she had developed a bit of a crush on Zuko over the years, but she just thought he was cute! She definitely wasn’t ready for him to propose to her!

“You’re being quiet today.” Zuko took the towel from underneath her arm and laid it out on the sand. She shrugged and sat on top of it, watching absent-mindedly as he set up their umbrella. “Did your mom say something mean again?” 

She shook her head and chewed on her bottom lip. She did that when she was nervous. Should she bring it up to Zuko? What if he already knew? What if he didn’t? Was he in on it the whole time, or did he genuinely have no clue that this plan had been orchestrated behind their backs since they met. 

She swallowed. Her throat felt dry. Zuko was her best friend. He knew her fears, her hopes, and her dreams. She liked to think that she knew all of his, too. She decided to be honest with him. 

“Azula told me something today.” Zuko frowned. 

“If she said that I cried while eating Fire Gummies, she’s wrong, I had something in my eye and--” 

“No, it’s not that. She said that your father and mine had been planning on arranging our marriage, and that’s why I’m always invited to the palace and why I always hang out with you.” She avoided his gaze by looking out at the water. The waves were calm today and were a brilliant shade of blue. 

Zuko inhaled a deep breath. “(Y/N), Azula always lies. You know that.” 

“Well her lie sounded pretty convincing if you ask me.” She turned to face him, her eyes staring deeply into his. Zuko couldn’t lie to her: they both knew this. It was too easy to tell when he was lying. “Did you know that your family has been basically grooming me to marry you?” 

Zuko stared at her blankly, giving no answer. But that was all the confirmation that she needed. She tossed sand at him. “Hey! What the heck?” 

“You knew and you didn’t say anything?” She demanded. 

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, by the way, our parents agreed that we’d get married to each other once we’re old enough?” 

“You could have said something, at least. Azula told me. Azula! Do you know how embarrassing that is?” 

“I only just found out about it a few weeks ago. I was sworn to secrecy! Please don’t be mad.” 

She crossed her arms and looked away from her friend. On one hand, she did not like having her future decided for her. But on the other hand, she knew she had a duty to her nation. If she married Zuko, both of their parents would be happy. She would be taken care of. And she supposed that marrying her best friend wasn’t the worst thing that could ever happen to her. 

“I don’t think you being the Fire Princess would be so bad,” Zuko continued. “You could get as many Fire Flakes as you wanted, at any time that you wanted.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“I guess I can’t really say no if our fathers already decided for us.” 

“I mean, you could, but you’d still be forced to marry me.” She punched him then stood, extending her hand. 

“It’s gonna take a lot to get married to your stupid face. You’d better get started.” 

read part 3 here

[fuckingfinwions]

#3 russingon au? 👀👀👀

(from this)

Prince Fingon is about to come of age.

Feanor is a blacksmith (not anyone related to the king) in the small town of Formenos.

A royal messenger comes to the town to look over all the unmarried boys of appropriate age range as a potential private companion for the prince.

Maedhros, Maglor, and Celegorm are all about the right age, though Celegorm is on the young end and deliberately sabotages his chances because a palace sounds stuffy.

The messenger looks everyone over and asks some questions. Maedhros and a couple of the others also get asked if they have all their teeth, if they ever had the pox and if it scarred. Then the messenger rides away and that’s it for a while.

They don’t forget about it, because Feanor rants at dinner about how the royals do nothing and steal the work of honest men in taxes and now want to steal their children, but it’s not on the top of anyone’s mind.

There’s a lot of boys in the village, and though Maedhros is aware that he’s the handsomest of them, there’s a lot of villages in the kingdom.

It’s a month later when the messenger comes back, this time knocking on Feanor’s front door.

Maedhros is to go to the capital city and meet Crown Prince Fingolfin. If Fingolfin approves of him when they meet in person, Maedhros will become Prince Fingon’s private companion. If Fingolfin doesn’t approve, Maedhros will be sent back.

Maedhros kind of wishes he didn’t have to go be a glorified personal prostitute, but it’s a great opportunity. He’ll be in the capital with it’s libraries and art and people from all over. He probably won’t be allowed to talk to anyone important, but still it’s amazing.

And there’s not a whole lot keeping hm back at home. He’s competent in the forge and can make horseshoes and such, but not especially talented, and Caranthir is old enough to be a proper apprentice. He’s not dating anyone, and though he’ll miss his family he doesn’t have any very close friends

Sidenote: In the upper class, there is a very strong emphasis on heterosexual-virginity before marriage, and monogamy during marriage until you have at least three undisputed children, to ensure inheritance. In the lower class and outside the capital, it’s more common for teenagers to have bit of fun, and if you need to marry in a hurry because someone got pregnant so it goes. (This is apparently a not-elves au).

The messenger says that he’ll bring by the carriage for the journey to the capital in the morning, Maedhros can have a day to pack and say his goodbyes.

Feanor is not happy with this, even though it’s “temporary” and Maedhros will go back home once the prince marries in 5-10 years. 

Maedhros knows that pointing out that Feanor legally has to let him go will not make things better. There’s a lot of arguing, and Maedhros is able to mostly focus on what his free time might be like rather than what his new job will be.

(And Maedhros knows that if he admits he doesn’t want to go in Feanor’s hearing, Feanor will do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn’t have to. It’s nice to know his father cares, but it means he doesn’t say any of his doubts or even fully articulate them to himself.)

So in the morning Maedhros has a couple of apple crates full of his things and gets in the carriage.

He has a lot of time to think about what this will be like. Maedhros has heard that King Finwe is tall with dark hair, maybe Prince Fingon will look like that? (And should Maedhros call Prince Fingon by his title or just his name? Would it be seen as unbearably rude to forgo the title, or horrendously stilted to use it during sex?)

Maedhros has wondered what sex with another man would be like, but a reputation for it in his town would mean he might never marry and be alone forever.

Other things Maedhros knows about the royal family: all of Feanor’s anti-government rants. Fingon is the oldest prince. The cobbler two villages over traveled to the capital to visit her aunt, and said the princes were tall and had clothes woven out of silver instead of cotton.

Maedhros knows that the prince will of course be ugly and lazy, never having to work a day in his life, but someone nearly as tall as him would be nice.

“How old is Prince Fingon?”

The messenger looks at Maedhros like he’s an idiot.

“It’s two months until his seventeenth birthday. That’s why you’re here, to be his companion and be a good place for him to direct his adult urges as he comes of age.”

“I knew that, I just wasn’t sure when exactly he was considered of age.”

“The royal family doesn’t live their years any faster or slower than you do, kid.”

“I’m just not used to it being sudden. In Formenos, you don’t marry until you can support a house together, unless she gets pregnant in which case you build a cabin in one of your fathers’ yards and live off them until you’re ready.”

“The Prince is too young to marry, hence finding him someone to have fun with.”

“Of course.” Maedhros keeps quiet for the rest of the carriage ride so he doesn’t look like a complete fool. (Whether or not he wants to do this, he’s too proud to not try his best.)

They reach the capital, and there’s enough notice for Maedhros to change into his best clothes. He wore them to the festival this spring, the bright red tunic has flowers embroidered along not just the neckline most of the chest and stars on the sleeves.

Maedhros is expecting to be outclassed by Crown Prince Fingolfin, of course, but he might as well but on his best clothes.

Fingolfin is wearing a simple chain necklace made of more gold than Maedhros has ever seen in one place, even as a smith’s son. The shirt behind it isn’t embroidered, someone actually wove the cloth out of different colors of thread so it fades from an indigo near Fingolfin’s face through to a blue and then near turquoise at the hem.

Fingolfin calls Maedhros’s attire ‘rustic’ and asks him a few questions, though most of them have already been covered by the messengers.

Fingolfin then says he’ll make his decision in the next few days, there’s a temporary room for Maedhros in the servants quarters. He’ll be brought his meals, and shouldn’t go wandering (Fingon isn’t supposed to see his private companion until his birthday, it would spoil the surprise of his present.) And does Maedhros have any requests of Prince Fingolfin?

Maedhros asks if there’s a book of court etiquette he could study, either in his rooms or escorted to the library? “I know that of course I won’t take part, but as a private companion I’m supposed to be whatever Prince Fingon wants. If he wants to talk about his day sometimes, I'm sure he’d rather do so without spending hours explaining the context.”

Fingolfin asks, “So you’re not trying to learn the rules so that Fingon doesn’t punish you for misbehavior?”

“If Prince Fingon wishes to punish me for any reason, I of course will obey. But I have no desire to behave in ways he would find unpleasant.”

Fingolfin nods and waves a hand for Maedhros to leave. Maedhros does, and a few hours later one of the servants brings by a book of etiquette. It’s aged with a cracked spine, as new books are even more valuable, but it was obviously replaced in the royal library for datedness or cosmetic reasons, not readability. This copy is one the palace steward uses for reference.

There’s nothing else for Maedhros to do, so he reads it cover to cover. (He can do arithmetic too, they’re useful skills in the forge.)

Fingolfin decides on Maedhros. He’s pretty and polite and articulate, and not one of the sons of a half-dozen merchant families that are trying to get an avenue to the royal palace. Friends with the future king is nothing to sneeze at, even if it’s a degrading sort of friendship.

So the night of Prince Fingon’s seventeenth birthday, Maedhros is waiting for him. He’s dressed in a dark brown tunic that Fingolfin selected to make Maedhros’s fair skin not look washed out, and red leggings to match his hair. His hair is in one long braid, so it can just as easily be out of the way or used as a leash. He’s not wearing any underclothes, and he opened up and oiled his asshole so that Fingon can take him immediately if Fingon wants. He’s nervous, and kneels by the door to wait.

He waits rather a long time actually, and eventually concludes that it won’t be too presumptuous to sit on a stool, as long as he gets up immediately when Prince Fingon enters.

In the mean time, Maedhros thinks. They say everything in the capital city is politics. Maedhros himself would never leave a new.., acquaintance to wait by accident, especially not as a first impression. Prince Fingon is obviously setting the tone for the next several years with Maedhros. Maedhros has to be where he's told and do what he’s told, and Fingon will acknowledge him only when the prince feels like it.

Maedhros figures he’ll know more when the prince show up, if he bothers to thank Maedhros for waiting or if he’ll go straight to removing clothes.

Fingon is not actually thinking about any of this. It’s his coming of age! There’s a feast and dancing and drinking and all his friends and the whole focus of the night is on him. He knows he’s getting a private companion, but Fingolfin hasn’t given any hints about what exactly they’ll look like and Fingon has a lot of other presents right in front of him.

Fingon doesn’t worry about the hypothetical private companion’s comfort, because this is the palace, it’s got to be better than wherever the guy came from. Whoever it is can relax on a feather bed for possibly the first time ever and eat fancy food rather than plain bread, Fingon arriving a few hours earlier or later will make no difference.

Fingon is Nice, and is used to people knowing that. If everyone knows you’re a nice person, they give you the benefit of the doubt that thoughtlessness was not malice, and inattentiveness was not disrespect.

People have been telling Maedhros that Fingon is nice, but he expects they’d tell him that anyway. Everyone wants Maedhros to please Fingon after all, so they’ll frame everything the best way possible. They also say Fingon is determined, which Maedhros interprets as “never listened to the word no in his life”.

It doesn’t matter, Maedhros reminds himself, because saying no would be illegal anyway. If Fingon is the type to just push past that if Maedhros is not in the mood, it’s better than being thrown in the dungeons.

Eventually Fingon comes back to his bedroom.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 1: Making Deals with the Devil

AO3

Ship: ???

Word Count: 3012

Warnings: None

A/N: Welcome to the start of my next chapter fic! I’m not sure if I’ll be able to update this one as regularly, but I’ll try! I hope you guys enjoy it! (I’ll also still try to post stuff in between chapter updates!)

Next

Solomon’s fingers tapped along the desk of the meeting room rhythmically. The sound bounced off the walls filling the lonely void that surrounded him. He was known as a powerful man, a womanizer, and clever. He wasn’t exactly sure what part of his reputation had earned him the title of womanizer, but he happily accepted the other two titles. It wasn’t a surprise that many sought him out for advice, aid, and offers of betrothal. Many times he would cast the latter to the side, the kingdoms often had nothing to offer that he was interested in, he was a powerful king with ambitious goals. He couldn’t risk any small amount of set back. 

It wasn’t like he thought much about marriage. No. To him it had always been presented as a contract, something both parties gained something out of. His parents had made that example clear to him growing up right to the point where he had taken the throne. It didn’t bother him all too much, the idea that he himself never would experience love, he learned to accept that long ago. It was just the way things were.

 People thought Solomon had been too young to be a king when he took the throne, too inexperienced, but he quickly proved them wrong. They doubted him. He worked hard to gain their favor and their trust, and to show them that he was not one to be made a fool of.

And he wasn’t about to lose his reputation.

When the king of Arcadia approached him with an offer, Solomon’s interest had been piqued. Arcadia was a powerful kingdom, no, a powerful empire. An offer from them could certainly be beneficial to Solomon. The more the clock ticked by, the more anxious he became. 

The door opening brought a flood of relief with it, and Solomon stood to greet his guests. Three figures entered the room, accompanied by two of his guards: The broad shouldered king, his eldest son the pride of Arcadia, and a smaller daintier figure. It wasn’t polite to ogle at his potential bride, but Solomon did have a quick glance. There would be a more appropriate time for looking if this was meant to be. He bowed slightly towards the group as the doors shut behind them. 

“You’re majesty,” he smiled, “I can’t begin to express how happy I am to have you in my home, please, make yourselves comfortable.”

The King of Arcadia nodded and took his seat, and Lucifer quickly pulled out the chair for his sister to sit before taking his own seat. 

Solomon clapped and servants flooded the room carrying trays and pitchers and setting them down on the table. “Your trip must have been long, I decided to have some things prepared for your arrival. If there is anything else you need don’t hesitate to ask.”

His eyes drifted back over to the king’s bargaining chip. The first thing he noticed was her bright orange eyes. They reminded him of a sunset disappearing behind the mountains. He liked the way they followed movement around the room. They were so full of curiosity and wonder. Pretty.

The more he stared, the more he became intrigued. Thoughts were stirring behind that pretty face, thoughts that went deeper than what was surrounding them. He wanted to go deep within her mind and poke and prod until he found answers. Surely there was something there, something that would interest him.

“I appreciate your hospitality,” the king smiled leaning back in his chair, “I must confess, I wasn’t expecting a country this successful to be run by such a young man.”

“Oh please, you flatter me!”

“A man like you would certainly make a fine addition to the family,” he mused, “Allow me to introduce my children. Lucifer, my eldest, and my only daughter, Lilith. I have seven children, six boys and one girl. Each one is an heir to a sector of the Empire, and Lucifer is the head.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, especially you Lilith,” he flashed a smile in her direction and held out his hand. Lucifer remained stoic and watched Solomon with calculating eyes. Honestly it didn’t seem too out of place for the heir to an empire. What did strike Solomon as odd was the way the Arcadian King reacted. He nudged Lilith forward, jolting her into offering her hand for him.

Soft.

Whatever lotions they used in Arcadia smelled absolutely divine. Slowly he brought the hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

“I- ah- It’s a pleasure to meet you too, your majesty.”

“Please, call me Solomon dear one. May I say you have a lovely voice. Are you a singer?” 

Oh the giggle that came from her was pleasant. He could do this. This would work for him. 

“I am actually, sometimes I sing for the court.”

“Perhaps you could sing for me sometime then? I’d love to hear your voice.” 

He’d never been one for small talk, but in this case he could make an exception. Even if he didn’t believe a world in which marrying for love was a possibility, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind to her. It would also be a terrible thing for the family to change their mind and recede their offer.

“Maybe today? I could take you outside, and we could have a private walk together,” he offered, giving her hand a light squeeze. Perhaps he could poke and prod and learn a few more personal things about Arcadia, “It wouldn’t be long, just a short little trip on my grounds.”

Lucifer coughed and brought in Solomon’s attention, “With all due respect, I believe Father had some things he’d like to discuss with you. That and I’m not sure I’m personally comfortable with leaving you alone with- with Lilith.” 

He said her name oddly, as if it caught in his throat.

“I mean no disrespect-”

“Of course not! My apologies, I got carried away. It’s not everyday you get to see such beauty.”

Oh such a lovely laugh. Solomon was enjoying the noises leaving his future bride’s lips.

He couldn’t let himself get carried away though. Yes, she seemed to be a beauty and yes Solomon wanted his share of Arcadia, but he had to be sure that this deal would be beneficial to him. Ambition and future goals wouldn’t allow him to be skimmed of what he wanted. He knew he was quick with his witt, and he would certainly be using that now. 

Holding up his cup, a servant quickly came by and filled it, “I suppose we should get down to business then, no? That was the reason for your trip. Please enjoy yourselves while we discuss.” 

The King of Arcadia was a rather boisterous man especially when compared to his children. He honestly seemed more than eager to have Solomon on his side, especially when his reputation preceded him. It certainly made it easier for Solomon when it came to worming  in his own wants. 

His eyes wandered over to Lilith every now and again. He wanted to see if he could catch a space to start conversation with her. But the king and his son were quicker in stealing discussion away, and she seemed to have something constantly pressed to her mouth. A silver chalice always seemed to beat him to her lips.

Interesting. 

Well, he’d get to speak with  her sooner or later. He wouldn’t let it bother him all too much. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to. 

He was going to go down as one of the Great Kings of history. All he had to do was secure his place in this moment and his future would be sealed.

They talked well past the point where the sun set into the sky. Solomon offered the family a place to stay within the palace. After all, it was dangerous to travel at dark with all of the thieves and other such beasties of the night. 

“I think I’ve heard everything I need to hear,” The King said, standing from his seat, “I’d be thrilled to have you rule part of Arcadia with Lilith, and your kingdom will make a fine addition. Until we consider you family, consider yourself a valued friend and ally.” 

Those words kept running through Solomon’s head, and his chest would be puffed up with pride for months to come. Sleep seemed impossible. He couldn’t stop himself from tossing and turning all night long, but he didn’t even notice his lack of sleep the following morning. As he wandered the halls preparing himself to check on his guests, he noticed someone.

The princess seemed to be wandering the halls. Her movements were hesitant and unsure, and she hadn’t seen Solomon yet. 

“My my, what are you doing up so early dear?” ‘

Solomon couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from his throat as she jumped. He came closer, his hand curled around something. 

“Oh my lord!”

“Please, call me Solomon.”

“Oh, Solomon. I was just looking around, and I-”

Solomon moved closer. He didn’t want to corner her or scare her, but he did want to get closer to his fiance. His free hand came up and made contact with her cheek. She was frozen, mouth open ever so slightly. Her cheeks were just as soft as her hands. His thumb slowly moved up and down. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking for any sort of reaction. Even if this wasn’t love, he could still be a decent husband towards her. There was no reason for him to be an ass. 

“This is fine, yes.”

She still seemed so nervous. 

Well, they didn’t know each other, and Solomon did have a rather intimidating reputation. He wasn’t offended, he just wanted her to be comfortable. After a moment he removed his hand from her face and slowly brought up his other hand. 

“I brought you a present, I was going through my treasury last night after we retired, consider it an early engagement present.”

Slowly he opened his hand. A small pendant stared back up at Lilith, gold shimmering in the early daylight. A golden scorpion wrapped around a ruby heart. His fiance’s eyes widened and a small noise escaped her. 

“May I?” Solomon asked, nodding towards her chest.

“Oh, of course.”

With careful hands, Solomon started fixing the pendant to her chest. “Scorpions are dangerous, yet some species are also incredibly beautiful. Only fools choose to underestimate them. I believe my future wife is just as beautiful as she is dangerous,” he said, he met her eyes as he removed his hands once more, “Pay anyone back tenfold whoever dares to underestimate you.”

It was another lesson Solomon learned long ago. Anyone who dared to demean him was quickly reminded of who he was. People can never be allowed to walk all over you. They can’t be allowed to step on you. Sometimes you have to force yourself to be strong

The blush that bloomed across her pale cheeks made him smile. 

Arcadia and a lovely bride, he really lucked out. Good things come to those who wait, and Solomon had waited for an opportunity like this for so long. His waiting paid off. Solomon wasn’t just going to be a good king, he was going to be a historic king.

“Thank you,” Lilith said. The way she smiled at him- Words couldn’t begin to describe it. It made his voice catch in his throat and his heart stutter deep in his chest. It wasn’t love, no, it couldn’t be. Perhaps an infatuation or the early beginnings of something else.  What that something was he couldn’t say. 

All he knew was that the word ‘beauty’ couldn’t begin to describe her. She was something beyond radiant, beyond lovely with the way she looked at him. She leaned in and pecked at his cheek and Solomon felt the tips of his ears burn. There was a tension between them, he could feel her wanting, craving. Resistance felt like a knife inches above a taut rope. He was about to say more when they were interrupted. 

“What are you doing?”

The crowned prince was walking down the hallway quickly towards his sibling, and he seemed displeased. 

“Luci I-”

“You were supposed to stay in your room until Father came to collect us. You shouldn’t be out here alone. A- Lilith. You know what Father told us.”

Solomon stepped in, “I didn’t mean to keep her out. I just couldn't resist giving her a gift before you all left. After all, it will be a while before I can see my bride again.”

“I just wanted to kiss him! Just once… On the cheek.”

Solomon had to stop himself from laughing at the tone in her voice. It was impatient and yearning.

Lucifer hesitated before looking over to Lilith. The two of them seemed to be having a silent conversation. “Father was… Worried you might not like her. He believes that she has a habit of talking out of turn or just too much in general.”

“How could I not find her lovely? She’s like a blushing rose. And I prefer a partner who can speak for themselves. I think it would be boring to have someone who wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with me,” Solomon frowned. He shouldn’t be surprised this king thought this way. Many rulers did, especially when it came to arranging marriages. Perhaps he was the odd one out when it came to kings.  Hopefully things could be different once he came to Arcadia. “It’s a shame your father would want to control someone he considers so spirited.”

The siblings hesitated for a moment more. 

“I suppose we don’t have to tell Father, I must admit, I didn’t agree with his decision in the first place,” Lucifer said, “If this stays between us, we should be alright.”

Lilith nodded in agreement, “What Father doesn’t know won’t hurt him...:”

“Then I see no issue with our little alliance,” Solomon said, reaching up to fix the silk once more, “This will be our little secret.” Although, now Solomon had a little flicker of information about the family, one that could possibly be useful to him. 

Lucifer eyes flickered with distrust.

Lilith’s eyes sparkled.

“I suppose in this moment, it would be in our best interest,” Lucifer said, of course it wasn’t hard to tell that he was more concerned with his sibling and himself rather than Solomon. Solomon knew that in this situation, he had control. What better of an opportunity to present himself as a gracious man? And one who could keep secrets nonetheless. 

“Well, let’s get you back to your room before father wakes up, I wouldn’t want him getting angry with you,” Lucifer said, leading her back down the hall. Solomon couldn’t help but watch as they left.

This was an adventure waiting to be travelled. If his wife was anything like what Lucifer had hinted at, he could count himself excited for this union. It would be a bonus accompanying an even bigger prize.

Parting was always sweet sorrow, or that’s how the saying went anyways. Their father hadn’t been any wiser to their impromptu meeting in the hall. Capturing Lilith’s hand, Solomon stopped her from entering the carriage. He pressed another kiss against her soft skin, “Until we meet again.”

Her smile graced him one last time before the door shut, and her eyes followed him until he could see her no more.

Turning on his heels, he reentered the lonely corridors of the castle. The echoes of his footsteps resounded off of cold stone walls.  For the briefest of moments, they’d felt warm, but now even the torchlight barely brought heat to his bones. Reentering his chambers, he plucked a silver medal encasing a heart cut from lapiz on his bureau. He held it close in the silence and closed his eyes.

A flutter of warmth set through. It wasn’t as strong as he thought it would be. There seemed to be an overlying fear surrounding it, but it was struggling to stay afloat, a soft light surrounded by darkness.

Perhaps it had been his fault. He’d come on a little too strong and cornered the poor thing. But he’d make it up to her. They’d have time to get used to each other. 

People often spread rumors of him dabbling in magic. Not that he cared, it was true. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to his bride. He was sure that was another piece that had led the king to seek him out. He’d heard rumors himself about how Arcadia held old magic within it’s land, powerful magic, and Solomon couldn’t wait to tap into it. 

There was so much to learn.

So much to discover.

So much potential to bring forth,

And it was all so close within his grasp. 

Could she feel him too? Or was she oblivious to the magic surrounding her?

He brought the pendant closer to his face and inhaled. Hints of sweet perfume from Arcadia wafted through. 

Without a second thought he pinned it to his chest. There wasn’t any harm in seeing how Lilith’s days were going. Perhaps it would help him relate to her more and make her more comfortable to be around him. If he was the cause of her anxieties he needed  to mediate that. The most effective bonds were built out of trust. He needed her to trust him to reach his full potential. He could worry about winning her family over later.

Part of him missed her presence and her wonderful smile. For now, he’d settle being close to her in a particularly distant sense of the word.

He honestly couldn’t believe his luck on his end of the bargain. Oh how he hoped time would fly swiftly. 

“The next time I see you, I’ll get to hear you sing for me in Arcadia,” he smiled, fingers brushing ever so lightly against the heart.

[laurore-stormwitch]

I honestly live for Genya and Nikolai’s friendship. Second part following from the fight in the war room between Nikolai and his general. Here he and Genya share a drink and some sincere words. (it’s awfully long but i love them)

we will fight for you -AO3 

 _____________________________________________________

He took another long sip of brandy from the glass he was holding. He didn’t remember how many drinks he had. He just wanted it all to fade to nothing, to be able to finally rest. And yet here he was, in front of the fireplace, revisiting everything that happened in the last two days. Somehow, after the disastrous meeting, he got through the rest of the day and the day after that. Zoya made a brief appearance in the war room that morning, swallowing her pride. His heart skipped a couple of beats when she appeared: she made a quick nod of her chin at him avoiding his eyes, playing the part of the respectful general, and stayed in the room for a brief time. It was worse than not seeing her at all. She picked up her files, gave a couple of instructions to Genya and left as swiftly as she came, leaving him with scrambled thoughts for the rest of the day. Tonight, he had dinner in silence with Ehri, barely keeping up the appearance of the lovely soon-to-be-wed couple they were not. Ehri was stubborn, but smart and observant. It took her ten minutes to unravel what she was seeing in front of her.

“Still brooding over the fight with your General, my King?” She asked sweetly, with a pretence of innocence.

“I see words travel fast in the palace.” Was all he said, picking his herring apart. He didn’t feel like eating. He felt Ehri’s eyes studying him. She fell silent for a while, then managed to say something that caught him off guard.

“You should tell her you’re in love with her before it’s too late.”

A small smile curled her lips at his shocked reaction. She was having fun. He stopped picking at his food, looking at her. Frankly, he didn’t have the strength to fight this, or deny it for all that mattered. There was nobody else in the room. He was at a loss of words. He felt the pain of their confrontation coming back in waves. He was deeply ashamed, hurt and lost. Ehri got up from her seat, directed to her chambers. She stopped at his side, casting him a pensive look.

“You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I do know what it’s like to love someone, and I do remember how it felt when I lost her. I think if you stop putting your energies into denying your feelings, and direct them into finding another solution for this situation, we would all be better off. Don’t let this go so easily. Love is the only thing worth waging a war for.”

Ehri stepped away from him, opening the door. She turned to him one last time before disappearing to her chambers, saying something that ignited a feeble spark of hope in his heart.

“If you want to discuss other plans, I’m up for it. I want my throne back, Your Highness. You need an alliance and the liberty to go after the girl you want. Maybe we can find a way to work together and get our happy endings, after all.”

“Your Highness, may I come in?”

Her words were torturing him. He didn’t reply to her at dinner, letting her leave in silence. And he knew she was just jumping at the tiniest chance to get free from this wedding. But the things she said were stuck like a worm in his brain, which was now working frantically. He didn’t think, until now, that there was another way. But maybe, just maybe…he couldn’t let go of the foolish idea that he wanted someone he loved beside him. As a wife, as a ruler, as a queen. Marrying Ehri was a pragmatic choice, securing the alliance with the Shu. But what if they could work something else out? He could help Ehri get back the throne, get his alliance, and leave his heart free to pursue whoever he truly loved. The idea of having the chance not to lose Zoya was too strong to be ignored.

Someone knocked at the door in that instant, interrupting his train of thoughts. He heard Genya’s voice gently calling him.

He took a long breath in, trying to blink away some of the brandy. He opened the door for her, welcoming her in. “Please Genya, do sit with me for a while.”

He tried a smile in her direction as she walked in the room, gesturing to the empty chair beside the one he sat in. Genya’s visit was a welcome distraction: he’d come to really appreciate her in the times they’ve worked together. She was a good friend, a glowing presence, with her sweet and soothing ways. And beneath her honey demeanour she hid the spine of a fiery warrior, always looking after the people she loved. While she graciously sat down, he pondered why she was here, having a displeasing hunch about it. The suspicion came that this was not going to be an easy conversation. His instincts were only confirmed by her behaviour: she was shifting her gaze uncomfortably from the fire to Nikolai, clearly trying to assess the best way to give voice to her thoughts. He waited without rushing her until she spoke, carefully looking at him.

“Can I talk to you as a friend, Nikolai?” There she goes, he thought, his mood already souring even more if it was possible.

“Not only you can, dear Genya, I ask that you do.” He gestured to go on, encouraging her to speak. She cleared her throat, never leaving his face, a firm look in her amber eye.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday in the war room." She sighed, taking the glass Nikolai offered her, slowly choosing the next words. Nikolai grew only more worried.

“You can’t look at your General like that, Nikolai.”

The King let out a tired breath. He didn’t need to ask who they were talking about. Even so, it was startled by how direct Genya was being and shook by the seriousness in her gaze. Not that he didn’t think the others suspected something, and if there was someone who could smell romance miles away that was Genya, but still…How did he look at her? Genya didn’t wait for him to reply, catching the question hidden in his eyes.

“You do it every time she enters a room. You look at her like she’s your saviour. Like she’s everything good and right in the world, like you just started breathing again after risking drowning. Like she’s the storm, and the first ray of light after that. I know what that feels, believe me. But still, you can’t look at her in public like that.”

He stayed silent for a bit, turning his gaze away from Genya. Like before, with Ehri, he felt there was no point in denying it. No point in having a discussion, in being bold, arrogant, and flirtatious as ever. He wasn’t even fooling himself; he clearly hadn’t fooled Ehri. He didn’t stand a single chance in fooling Genya. And yet, somehow her honest words comforted him. He let go of every pretence, feeling the weight of the world on his chest becoming slightly lighter. He chuckled, contemplating the irony of the situation, and then let out the first true laugh in what felt like an eternity.

“Am I that obvious?” Genya seemed to relax at his reaction, sliding back on her chair, with a true affection in her look. A little laugh escaped her mouth too. She shook her head.

“To anyone who’s a little observant? Yes. To anyone with a good pair of eyes? Still pretty obvious.”

He laughed again. He really was hopeless.

“I had the suspicion that the two of you were going to be the last ones to realize these feelings.” She scolded him, crossing her arms.

“I’m pretty sure the only feeling Zoya has towards me right now is homicide, Genya.”

Saying her name felt strange on his tongue; the sound of her was still accompanied by a sharp pain. He had some problems acknowledging his own feelings, talking about them felt...weird. It made them real. It forced him to face them. He sensed Genya make a face beside him, with a disbelieving click of her tongue.

“You can’t be that oblivious, Nikolai. I fully expect it from Zoya, as I expect her to get violent with me if I try to talk to her about this, which is the reason why I’m here with you. But you can’t be clueless. You’re usually quite clever.”

He turned to her, looking as if he was just struck by lightning. “Usually”, was all he managed to say. Genya let out another irritated noise, leaning towards him.

“Do you really not feel the way she looks at you? It’s the same you do with her. And you’re both pretty obvious.”

“She hasn’t so much as cast a glare at me in two weeks.” He tried to protest. She snorted.

“Just because she’s trying to be a little more subtle than you. The fact that she does it when you’re not noticing doesn’t mean that other people don’t notice.”

He really wanted to believe her; he felt the hope lying in his heart flicker. Maybe he really wasn’t alone in this. Maybe it made sense to try and find some other way. He had felt it in the Fold, as much as he tried to deny it. She is already a queen, a little voice in his head reminded him.

“Which is why you can’t be like that in public. It’s one thing if the whole palace thinks you’ve taken a mistress. It’s another if we have a full star-crossed lovers situation going on. You don't watch her with lust; you watch her with love. Ehri has enough reasons already to stop this wedding, I’m not sure you want to give her another excuse and risk the alliance.”

Genya’s tone was sweet, tender as the look in her eye. She had a sad smile on her scarred face, and she put a hand on his arm while speaking the words. She knew how hard the reality of the situation was. She knew she had to tell him, and she knew it would hurt him. He understood that she was just trying to protect them, especially Zoya, from being in more pain than they were already.

“And the fight you had didn’t help. She’s hurting, Nikolai, I can see that under her armour. I don’t know what happened between the two of you in the Fold, and I’m not going to ask. But you need to work this out. You can’t go on like that.”

The idea of hurting Zoya sent another wave of shame against him and he had to catch his breath. He knew his reaction was wrong, and that he said the worst words he could have said to her. He knew he had to make this right. And sadly, he also knew Genya was perfectly right, as much as he didn’t care what other people thought of them. Though that may not matter anymore. He took another sip of brandy and waved a hand in front of him in a dismissive way.

“I’m afraid you’re too late with that problem. Ehri already knows. She told me at dinner, and as you predicted she also offered her help in concocting a plan to avoid marrying me and getting her throne back to secure the alliance.”

Genya’s eyes widened in surprise. She crossed her arms again with an amused chuckle.

“I knew she was smart. Well, you and Zoya haven’t been, to be fair. But she still is pretty smart.”

They stayed silent for a while. For the first time in days, Nikolai felt a little better. He didn’t know if it was the brandy or Genya soothing ways but keeping this secret hidden had been tiring. He could share the burden now. Genya turned serious again, a resolute look in her eye.

“If that’s the case, then I’m afraid you have a choice to make, Your Highness.”

“I do?”

She mustered the courage to speak, carefully pondering every word. “I don’t believe Ravka needs a queen that doesn’t love this country, as sweet as Ehri can be. This is a broken place. It needs mending. It needs someone caring, ready to give this wretched place everything to see it flourish. It needs someone strong, ruthless, and brave. Someone who could lead it to be whole again.”

Nikolai looked at her, feeling the pride reverberate through her words. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to feel protected. To feel safe. Can you imagine what a Grisha ruler can mean for this country? I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or that it’s the perfect choice. But can you see it? Grisha from everywhere in the world are going to know this is home. We can rebuild the Second Army, unite it with the First. We can bring this divided country together.”

She took a long breath in. “And we both know that for all her pettiness, her rude ways, and icy words, Zoya is already the queen our home needs. She would fend for Ravka until her dying breath.”

He took every word in, waves of feelings towering over him. He thought of the Fold, of the letter he gave Zoya naming her the protector of Ravka. Of the first time he envisioned her as a Queen. As his Queen. He thought of following his heart, of things he usually didn’t let himself linger on: Zoya in his arms, Zoya in his rumpled sheets in the morning, on his lips, his hand in her hair, the smell of wildflowers around them. Zoya holding his hand. Zoya bleeding in the snow, protecting the cubs. Zoya with a silver crown at his side. He felt his heart full of yearning for these visions, full of warmth and desire. He thought of losing her, the pain like a sword through his chest, like a mountain on his shoulders.

“And I want to see her happy, Nikolai. She deserves happiness.” She touched his hand kindly. “You deserve happiness. You deserve someone who loves you as fiercely as she does. She deserves your kindness; you deserve her proud heart. We would want nothing more than to see you build a life together. Build the future together."

He didn’t miss it. He emerged from his thoughts, trying to steady his breathing at the ferocity of the truth that lay behind his friend’s speech. “We?” She curled her lips in a devious smile.

“As I told you, we all expected you two to be the last to acknowledge this. You’re both pretty funny to gossip about. If you can believe it, Tolya was the first to notice. Months ago. I had to explain it to David of course, but the others were all pretty quick to catch up.”

The thought of their friends whispering about them sent affection and amusement through him. He still couldn’t quite believe he managed to surround himself with this little strange family. He smiled back. Genya caught his hand, tightening her grip.

“We will fight for you. If you decide this is the course you want to take, we will fight for the both of you. We will stand at your side, defending Ravka and your right at happiness and peace. Just think about it.”

He nodded, staying silent at the enormity of this revelation, deeply moved by Genya's sincere words. He felt a warmth he didn't remember was possible to feel, the chance of a joy so intense it caught him off guard. It still seemed like a fragile hope; but it was a spark he was going to protect at all cost. His confidence was building up again. A decision: that’s something he was good at. He could already see the roads taking form, he could see where they led, what he would have to do. He could do this. His brain was already working around a plan. He would need to talk to Ehri and see what she had in mind. Maybe they really could save themselves from this. But there was something else he needed to do first, something that’s still scared him a little, and it most certainly was going involve an unpleasant and hard confrontation with a raven haired harpy who was likely to burn him on the spot.

"Why do you think she's so mad at me? Avoiding me and everything? I’m sure you’ve noticed that too."

Genya waved a sarcastic glare in his direction, furrowing her brows at him and lightening the mood a little.

"I'm going to take a wild guess here, but maybe the fact you announced your marriage right after whatever happened between the two of you? Maybe?"

"Very funny." He huffed, throwing his arm in the air. “Nothing happened, by the way. Nothing...explicit.” Unfortunately, he thought grimly, images of Zoya clouding his mind again. He shook them away, trying to regain his focus. "What am I supposed to do?"

"All Saints Nikolai, I didn't think you were such an idiot when it came to relationships. You tend to be so charming."

"Not helping."

She laughed. Saints, she was enjoying this. "Maybe talk to her? That would be a nice first step."

Great, like it's easy. He groaned, pressing his hands on his eyes. Genya was totally right: what was happening to him? He was indeed charming. He was used to charm his way out of every situation. Unfortunately, the one person who always seemed to be immune to his ways was the one he desperately needed forgiveness from. Honesty might have been the only plausible course of action.

“Talk to her about what? My feelings?”

Genya burst out laughing again. His pride hurt a little bit. Maybe Zoya wasn’t easy, but it was not like he was a boy anymore.

“Sure, if you want her to punch you in the face and run away as fast as she can. Do you know Zoya, Nikolai?”

Never mind, I am a fool. His friend was of course right, again. What he thought he would do, show up and ask her to marry him after everything that happened? Run to Zoya and tell her you love her after you insulted her, great way to gain a quick death, Nikolai. He sighed at the redhead in front of him.

“I’m hopeless, fine, would you please help me my dear friend?”

She huffed her hair theatrically. “Ease her in a little bit before the whole feelings talk. Say you're sorry. Show you care. Mend the rift in your relationship, draw her close again. Make her believe that she wasn't wrong in trusting you and open her heart to you. Just a couple of suggestions. Start with this, and see where it goes.”

Okay, he could try this. See where it went from there. He brought up the glass of brandy, looking at the liquid inside. On second thought, he put it on the table again; he needed a clear mind for this. He took a deep breath, feeling some sort of calm wash over him. He was tired. But he felt good, he felt in control again.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to lend true.

His heart found its aim. He had lost himself, but he found purpose again. He saw a way, some twisted hard way to give his eager country what it needed and not lose the most important person in his life in the process. He looked at the girl still sitting patiently beside him: he owed her a lot. Hadn’t she come to talk to him, hadn’t she been brave enough to speak these words...he didn’t want to think how much more time it would’ve taken him to see the truth, o how much he could have lost. The gratitude he felt in this instant was immense. He held her hand pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Genya.”

“Thank me by not being an ass anymore, Nikolai." She hadn't lost the light tone, but he could see she was only half-joking. "And come ask me for whatever help you need, all right? It can’t have been easy to keep everything for yourself.”

No, it hadn’t been. Gentle as always, she got up with a fond smile.

“And please let me tailor those dark circles under your eyes. We need you at your best.” She winked at him, moving towards the doorway.

“You are a good friend, you know. Not just to me. To Zoya, also. We’re lucky to have you.”

“I’m also great at concocting plans and I thrive around secrets at court, remember that. I’ll be glad to be of use. With your terrible relationship skills, also.”

“I’m far from terrible, my dear friend. Just a little rusty.”

“Sure, whatever you say. And Nikolai, not that I want to rush you, but don’t lose too much time on your decision. We still need to move quickly."

This time, he was the one shooting a sarcastic glare.

“Like you didn’t know the second you walked through that door what choice I was going to take.”

Another wicked smile flashed through her features.

“You know, I’ll even avoid killing you for all the time I spent on organizing the wedding. Mainly because there’s still time to change the bride and have it anyway.”

He chuckled. “She still has to forgive me, first. Then there’s the matter of talking about feelings. And from that to accepting a proposal...well, I’m afraid we’re a long way from a royal wedding.”

Genya seemed unfazed by all of these trivial matters. She shook her shoulders.

“Never say never. Zoya often has a way of surprising people.” That much is true, he thought.

“Do tell me how it goes. In the meanwhile, goodnight, Your Highness.” Genya nodded in his direction, taking a step out and leaving his chambers.

“Goodnight, Genya.”

He stood up, walking around his room for a while. As exhausted as he was, he was also too lost in thought to actually sleep. He opened the window, resting his elbows on the balcony, leaning towards the dark night sky lit up by stars. It was too late to go to her, and yet she was everything he could think of. The desire burning in him was almost unbearable. He couldn’t stand the thought of her angry at him, alone in her room. Or worse, not alone in her room. He shook his head, inhaling the cold breeze, trying to ignore the useless jealous thought. She really was driving him insane. He needed to think, to set a plan and get things in motion. She could sulk in the idea of killing him for one more night; just another thing he would need to ask forgiveness for. He wouldn’t give up, this time. If he was going to do this, he was going do this right. No matter how hard it was going to be to convince her, or how many times she was going push him away. He wouldn’t give up on her. Let’s see who was more stubborn.

I’m gonna find a way to do this. He gazed at the Little Palace, its roof shining dimly under the moonlight. I promise you I’m gonna find a way. I’m not gonna lose you. I’ll keep fighting for you.

Sleep finally caught up to him after a few hours. That night, like so many others, he dreamed of her. But she wasn’t far and untouchable like in the other dreams. She was next to him. She was brushing her fingers on his cheek, waving a hand through his golden curls, her blue eyes full of light. She was smiling softly, calling his name, holding him close.

In the morning, for the first time, he awoke with the slight and impalpable sense that these dreams may had a chance of coming true.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Double Trouble

Bastien’s foster parents come to meet the twins, and he receives a gift that brings back painful memories...

Word count 2774

A/N You may need a tissue at hand for this one, Bastien is reduced to tears himself. There are a few Greek words here, but I’ve tried to make them obvious or translated immediately afterwards. My favourite was the word for grandmother, which is pronounced ‘ya ya’. You may notice I’ve chickened out from writing a chapter devoted to their wedding - at least for now...

5 Parents, old and new...

‘They’re here – the guards at the gate just rang through’ Bastien announced. Sophia cast an eye around the apartment to check all was spick and span.

‘Does it look right?’ she queried. ‘If it’s too tidy it will look like we’re not taking enough time with the twins, but if it’s untidy it looks like we can’t cope.’ Bastien walked over to her and kissed her forehead.

‘Don’t worry, theà mou’ he soothed ‘Althea will understand. She’s fostered plenty of babies as well as older children. She knows a little disorder isn’t a bad sign’

‘Did you ever get drafted in to looking after any younger ones?’ she asked.

‘One or two, but she never left me alone with them. Being totally responsible for small babies is a task for an adult.’ He went to the door just as a wail started up on the baby monitor. Sophia grimaced.

‘They certainly have a good sense of timing’ she said ‘I’ll go and see who it is and what they need.’

‘I’ll go down and greet our visitors. Don’t be worried about feeding them, they wouldn’t bat an eyelid, but if you want to stay private, stay in the nursery and I’ll check with you.’ He kissed her again and went to greet his foster parents, there to see the twins for the first time.

They lived only a few hours drive away in Greece but said they’d wait until the couple had settled into parenthood. Sophia’s parents had booked their flight from the Channel Islands and would be there the next month. If it hadn’t been for various video calls, her mother might well have demanded that she and Bob move lock stock and barrel to Cordonia, but Sophia had told them they weren’t sure they would be staying in the tiny European country for good. She had received a job offer from Edinburgh and had deferred it until the twins were older, and there was a lot of support at the Palace. They didn’t have to worry about cooking, laundry or cleaning, and Hana had volunteered to help too. She had experience with Savannah’s children, and would most likely go on to help the Queen when she gave birth to the heir.

She went into the nursery to discover that Theo needed a nappy change, and she was in time to get that done before his wailing woke his sister, who was a determined and deep sleeper. Changing him was an easy task compared to his sisters indignation at being messed around.

As she worked, she remembered that the last time she’d seen her own parents was at their wedding. It was a small affair, and her mind went further back to when they’d discussed getting married, some time after Bastien had proposed. They were taking a break at the villa in Greece that Costa and Althea owned, this time entirely on their own. They lay out in the sun after a swim in the clear blue sea.

‘Mum asked me when we’re getting married.’ Sophia said, reaching for a cool drink.

‘Then we should probably set a date’ Bastien replied. ‘That is, if you think we should do it’

‘It’s odd’ she said ‘I like the idea, but we’ve made our commitment to each other already. I don’t need a ceremony to know we intend to be together for the rest of our lives’

‘But perhaps other people have to acknowledge it’ Bastien pointed out ‘Plus it’s better legally, if anything should happen to one of us’

‘I could never understand my friends who started planning their weddings when they were teens’ she had said. ‘My best friend had a scrapbook and she’d collect pictures of dresses, think about venues and colour schemes and so on. I don’t think she cared who she married, and she expected it to happen before she was twenty’

‘How did that turn out?’

‘She did actually find a really nice guy to marry, but she was the original Bridezilla. He got fed up with her tantrums and stood her up at the altar – or in her case, at the beach. In Jamaica. He’d never even got on the plane to go there. Her family and friends had a wonderful holiday, but she spent the whole time crying and cursing him until one of the waiters caught her eye’ Bastien sucked his breath in between his teeth.

‘Did that put you off, theà mou?’

‘Just a little. But my wedding day wasn’t the apex of my expectations. I wanted to find someone to share my life with – and I have’

‘So what do you think we should do? What do you want?’

‘I don’t want a big wedding. A registry office would do – and a minimum of guests. In fact, just you, me and a witness would be enough. But my mother would never forgive me’

‘May I make a suggestion, then?’

‘’Of course, Bas. Fire away’

‘Why don’t we get married in Guernsey? That would please Edith, and it would keep the guest list down. We could always have a reception back here after a short honeymoon’

‘That might work. Wouldn’t Costa and Althea want to come to the wedding though?’

‘Hmmm. They’d understand if I told them we’d want to keep it small’

‘We, Bas? Are you happy with that?’

‘I think the same as you. It’s a formality – a legal piece of paper. It doesn’t compare to what we already have together. I’m happy to do whatever you want’

‘Well aren’t we a pair’ she had laughed ‘The reluctant bride and groom’

‘But enthusiastic lovers’ he joked, and swooped down on her, kissing her and picking her up to carry her inside.

So it was that they travelled to the tiny island where they had a small ceremony at the registry office with a reception at a four star hotel, arranged by her father. Some of his work colleagues attended as many of them had been impromptu Uncles when she was growing up, and a few of her school friends went too. Drake went as Bastien’s best man and representative of the Crown, being the third party in King Brad’s Cordonian marriage. It had been decided that he and Lucy would not attend, to keep the wedding low key. They had a short honeymoon on one of the smaller islands, and on their return King Brad had insisted on a lavish reception party in the Palace Ballroom. He had flown the happy couple back for the occasion in the Royal jet along with Bob and Edith.

After that, they had briefly discussed having children and decided to try as soon as they could, due to their age. Bastien had visited a sperm bank when he had a vasectomy on joining the Guard, and they were advised to try using that whilst waiting for his medical procedure to heal and his count to go up. Despite being told it would most likely take a few tries, the very first treatment worked, and Sophia had to defer taking up a job offer at Edinburgh University.

As she buttoned up Theo’s romper suit she heard the apartment door close and there was the babble of conversation in the main room.

‘You don’t look hungry, little man’ she cooed to the baby ‘Come and meet your pappous and giagià’ She picked him up, peeking into Beatrice’s cot, but she slept soundly. She resolved to come back for her, to keep the twins in synch with their naps. She had barely entered the lounge before Althea had plucked Theo from her arms with cries of delight.

‘Oh, mikros’ little one she gushed ‘I giagiá sou eínai edó’ your grandmother is here ‘Aren’t you such a delicious creature, I could eat you all up’ She turned to her husband ‘See how he looks like his father’ Costa nodded gravely, pursing his lips.

‘He does’ he said shortly, leaning over to appraise the baby. He looked up at Sophia.

‘And here is his mitera’ he smiled, and walked over to kiss her cheek. Althea only had eyes for Theo, rocking him and speaking in rapid Greek. Theo was mesmerised and gazed at her, entranced. ‘You look well, Sophia’ he said ‘I hope our Antras is looking after you and his mikra’

‘He’s very attentive. It’s good to see you, Costa. I hope the journey was okay’

‘It was very quiet – when Althea fell asleep’ he said, dropping his voice to a stage whisper.

‘You think I don’t hear you, old man?’ Althea cried ‘You’re lucky I’m holding our foster grandson. And where is his sister?’

‘I’ll get her’ Sophia said.

‘Let me come with you.’ Costa offered, and she led the way.

‘I’m sorry you can’t stay with us’ Sophia said as they went. ‘As you see, our spare room is occupied.’

‘Don’t worry my dear’ Costa boomed in his deep voice. ‘I know better than anyone how tiring Althea is to have around. We won’t stay long, we have friends to visit in the Capitol.’ As they entered the nursery Beatrice was stirring. Costa made a cooing noise as soon as he saw her.

‘Oh mikros – little princess.’ he clucked ‘Here, come to Pappous.’ and leaned over the cot, tenderly picking her up. Sophia held her breath, not knowing how she would react. She made little squeaking noises as she woke, her eyes opening to an unfamiliar face. She squinted and opened her mouth to protest but the sound of his voice lulled her as he crooned to her. He turned to Sophia.

‘They are both so dark.’ he said, referring to the shock of black hair that both children sported. ‘Your lovely blonde hair has not come through.’

‘It’s only natural.’ she smiled ‘We knew they would probably take after Bastien.’ They returned to the lounge, where Althea declared she would have to split in two in order to make the most of the babies. Costa stood facing her, and they rocked and sang to them together, doing a little dance. Bastien looked over at Sophia, whose face had lit up with joy to see the charming interaction. Theo gazed at his entertainers with fascination while Beatrice made odd little expressions and noises, waving her little starfish fingers randomly.

‘This one is musical, see?’ Althea said ‘She has a sense of rhythm. She will be a great singer or a concert pianist, just you see.’ Costa laughed.

‘Theodore is quiet and stoic like his father. Perhaps he too will be Captain of the Guard’

‘It’s a dangerous job, Pateràs. I wouldn’t wish it on him.’ Bastien commented. At that moment Beatrice decided she’d had enough of being joggled about and started to grizzle.

‘Your little princess needs her materà.’ Costa said, handing her over carefully. She made a face as if she was searching for a nipple.

‘Do you mind…?’ Sophia asked.

‘Go right ahead, I may never have fed one myself, but I would have if I could.’ Althea replied, so Sophia settled down to nurse. Theo remained in Althea’s arms, sucking his fingers and gazing back at her. ‘You need your strength, Sophia, so I brought some food for you.’ Althea sat close to her. ‘I know the palace kitchens cook for you, but I don’t think they make proper Greek food. It’s like medicine – my pastitsio will cure anything, and my moussaka would satisfy a giant.’ She nodded toward Bastien’s broad frame ‘Even our àntras there. How do you think he grew to be such a mountain of a man?’ Bastien rolled his eyes.

‘I think we might have to get a freezer of our own to store all the food Althea brought for us.’ he said drily. She turned toward him.

‘Look in the cooler bag – there’s Greek salad and dolmades and olives, and bread I baked this morning.’ Bastien shook his head, smiling.

‘You shouldn’t have, Althea’ he laughed ‘But it’s very welcome’

Before too long the dining table was set with a Greek feast, and Costa sat with Beatrice resting on his chest, making little circles on her back to bring up any wind, and Bastien had given him a napkin in case of accidents. Sophia sat nursing Theo, and Althea hovered over her with a plate full of finger food.

‘Eat, eat’ Althea urged her ‘The babies will grow fast. Start getting bigger clothes for them, you will see’ Soon it was Bastien holding Beatrice to wind her while Sophia sat at the table to eat, and Althea fussed with plates and food as if she was the host, not her foster son and partner.

At last they had done justice to the food, and Costa was the one to wash the plates while Althea played with Theo.

‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ she said suddenly, addressing Bastien. ‘I brought you something.’

‘Althea…’ he protested, but she had already handed the baby to Sophia and was rummaging in a bag. She brought out a small package and handed it over. Bastien took it curiously, and carefully unwrapped it. It was a small piece of fabric – a flowered pattern with a satin edge. He stared at it for a moment, and Sophia was shocked to see his eyes watering, hand resting on his cheek in shock.

‘Materà.’ he said, choking with emotion, struggling to keep his composure ‘I didn’t know you still had this.’ Althea went to him and put her hand on his arm. He grabbed it and kissed her fingers, tears running down his cheeks.

‘We found it when we cleared out some old boxes. I knew you’d want it.’ Her usual brusque tone was soft and tender.

‘I thought – I thought it was lost’ Bastien choked. Sophia was baffled, and she suddenly found Costa at her elbow, patting her arm. She put her hand on his, looking up in query. He spoke quietly as Bastien covered his face, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

‘It’s from a dress that his mother wore.’ he said in a low tone. ‘He kept it under his pillow until it got lost – we’re not sure exactly when. It’s the only thing that belonged to her that he had.’ Sophia already knew that Bastien had been fostered when his mother had become a drug addict and died tragically when he was a teenager.

Bastien got to his feet and shakily left the room. Costa went on to tell her that Althea had made the keepsake for him and quietly left it in his room when he was a surly and unruly teenager. They had noticed an improvement in his behaviour soon after, even though he had never acknowledged her kind action.

‘Go, he needs you.’ Althea said softly ‘The twins will be fine with us.’ Sophia handed Beatrice to her and got to her feet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sat holding the piece of fabric, tears still silently flowing down his cheeks. She sat next to him and handed him a tissue. He slowly calmed and mopped his eyes, taking a shaky breath.

‘I hated her when I was younger.’ he said hoarsely ‘But later on I realised it was a sickness that changed her, bad people who made her make the wrong choices. She never meant to hurt me.’ He turned the fabric over in his hands. ‘I wish every day she’d been stronger, been around to meet you. Now I feel as if she’s here.’ She took his hand and squeezed it.

‘She’d have been proud of you, I’m sure. I’m only just starting to understand what it’s like being a mother. I know if anyone tried to hurt our babies, I’d go out of my mind.’ He nodded.

‘Not everyone can cope with being a parent, even with the best intentions.’

‘You never had any doubt about whether you’d be a good father?’ she asked gently.

‘Of course I did, but I had Costa and Jackson to emulate’ He blew his nose. ‘And you had good examples, so I never had any doubt about you.’  

‘Althea should have been more sensitive.’ Bastien smiled weakly, his eyes red but dry.

‘It’s okay Sophia, it needed to be done. They’re here to look after the twins while I process it’ He took her hand and squeezed it ‘and while you support me. It was a good time to do it’ He got up and held out his hand. ‘Speaking of which, we should get back before they need a nappy change’

‘Something tells me that wouldn’t phase either of them’ she smiled, and rose to embrace him and kiss his cheek.

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @fluffyfirewhiskey @kingliam2019 @rainbowsinthestorm @camillemontespan @texaskitten30 @bascmve01 @nomadics-stuff​

​

[murderoustedbear]

War (unfinished but I plan to finish it)

My neighboring kingdom, Atarius, has been thriving for years under the rule of an unknown queen. None of her people have seen her face except those in her palace and they are sworn to secrecy. She is known for turning down marriage offers but I plan to win her over. If she does refuse my hand in marriage, I’ll over throw her.

Years ago, my kingdom was grand, as big as hers. However we went to war with a country suffering the plague. As men came back, they spread the illness. Our numbers are low however, her’s are lower. The plague hit them harder than us. There’s a rumor that the queen herself helped nurse her people and was killed from the plague. Of course that would leave the question of who is ruling. No one knows. All I know is her population is about half of mine. With both our kingdoms we could conquer half of Ruasiae.

A knock rings against my chamber doors as I dream of the unknown queen’s face. “Come in.” I roll my eyes.

My royal advisor enters, studying me. “Sorry to disturb you, Majesty.”

“Quill! My dear friend! You are no disturbance.”

He nods, “There’s been news that Atarius’ queen will be holding a ceremony. Invites have been sent out to several of her neighboring kingdom’s.”

At this, he has my full attention, “Ceremony? Of what sort?”

“I haven’t the slightest, sir. I believe she is looking to seek an alliance with some. It’s quite an intelligent strategy on her behalf. She’s had no problems with us, never lifted a finger to harm us nor the other countries. Rather kept to herself and her country. A spy from another kingdom has returned and has news regarding Ityal.”

“The news?”

“He’ll speak only to you, sir.”

“Send him up!” I demand, a bit too harshly. I look at the ridges on my nails hinting at the anxiety they’ve fallen victim to.

Minutes later, Quill has returned with the spy in tow, “Here’s your spy.” He leaves, shutting the door. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe I called her a him.

“What news do you bring?”

The fragile maiden grins, golden eyes shining, “You’ll love this, sire.” She sits at the end of my bed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news, the queen of Atarius has sent out invites for a ceremony. She’s seeking to save herself and her dear kingdom. A week ago, Ityal’s widower king sought to court the queen. She shut him down faster than lightning strikes the ground. Well he sucks at taking rejection and so he began plotting to destroy her kingdom. However, a servant that stayed in her castle for a while when he was there had grown fond of her due to her kindness and sent her a warning. She’s trying to find a way to keep her kingdom safe and if she dies in the process, someone to rule for her.”

I consider this. If she turns down my proposal and becomes allies with another country, it may become impossible to overthrow her. “Thank you, um… What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer but instead said, “I was there, at her palace.”

“Did you see her? Tell me about her.” I’m studying the spy now.

“She never spoke, rather communicated with hand symbols that a guard would translate. Her dresses never revealed any part of her body and weren’t tight at anypoint. Her face remained covered the entire time. She didn’t eat or drink around us. She wore gloves. She always had the same guards with her.” I frowned, hoping to have known what she looked like. “She was kind though. We went with her once to check on her kingdom. She doesn’t have any beggars, they all live in cabins and everyone has a job. Everyone contributes to the kingdom. She’s loved by her people. Children will run up and hug her and she hugs them back. She’s an honorable queen, the type that loves her people. The only reason she cares to continue ruling is because if someone else were to rule in her place, they may harm them. She’s compassionate.”

“Good qualities of a queen. Why hasn’t she married yet, do you know?” I inquire, considering the possibilities.

“Many reasons. She doesn’t want someone controlling her and ruling her people, tearing down what she’s built and she feels, marriage will lead to that. She wishes to not have children. She refuses to be married to a man who has a mistress or multiple mistresses in some cases. She hasn’t found someone she loves and will only marry for love.”

“So, if I want to marry her, I need to stay loyal, let her rule her people how she wishes, not pressure her into having children, and get her to love me?” That won’t be too hard.

She scoffed, “You have to love her too! There’s more to it all. She knows how many queens have been treated by their husbands and she want to be treated differently!” She walked out the room without another word. The last thing I saw as the door slammed was fire red hair swiching about.

At this point, I like this challenge.

Two days later

I’m dining alone in my chambers when Quill knocks.

“Enter.”

“Sire, a messenger has arrived.”

“Well let them in.”

A girl, no older than fifteen enters. Her blonde hair braided down her back. “King Arawn of Omirran, I bring news from Queen Myla of Atarius.” She stares me in the eyes, fearless.

“Go on.” It’s unsettling, having a servant look me in the eyes however, I cannot harm her as she is not mine and I do not want to be on Queen Myla’s bad side.

She clears her throat, “You are invited to celebrate the Queen’s twenty-fourth birthday in her palace for a fortnight. The ceremony begins overmorrow. You may bring with you a guest of whomever you like. Please note, upon reaching Atarius’ gates, you and your guests will be searched of weapons. Any weapons held by you and your party will be confiscated until you leave to ensure the safety of the people, the queen, other guests, and yourself. Please be ready to show the guards your invitation in order to be let in the gates.” The girl hands Quill the invite and leaves without another word.

Two weeks. I have two weeks to be in her palace. Can I charm her? Make her love me?

I call in every girl that lives or works in the palace, including the spy. The spy describes Queen Myla and the girls collaborate together a list of possible ways to charm her. All I need is her to develop a crush on me, I’ll propose and she’ll say yes, we’ll get married right away and my kingdom will be expanded.

The challenge is actually making this happen as there’s not much to work with. I don’t know know much about her. However, the strategy is to focus on personality. Originally, I was going to shower her with expensive gift, but everyone pointed out that every other suitor has tried this or will try it and she has turned them all down. I hope this works. I can’t afford to fail.

As the palace begins for my departure to Atarius, I decide that I shall bring her a single gift. I shall bring her a dragon flower from .the palace gardens. One that is yet to bloom so it shall bloom that night.

Two days later

On the day we’re to set out, I wake up before dawn. My thoughts are beasts, tearing my mind to shreds. There’s no way I’ll make her fall for me. No way I can charm her. Whatever higher deity that exists out there in the universe has shown me that.

My entire life, I’ve always believed there’s a higher power who sends us visions in the night. Whoever, whatever, this higher power is, they’ve sent me one and I know better than to question the message they convey.

I call Quill to my chambers and describe my dream. “I was there, with her. The more I tried to charm her, the harder it became. She grew cold in her heart towards me. I tried to tame her heart and call her mine but she did not wish to be trapped. She married me for the same of her sanity and then murdered me. Like a tigress in captivity, never meant to be tamed.”

“Sire,” Quill breaks my thoughts, “Perhaps you’re not seeing the true meaning… Only she can make herself love you. Love is not just an emotion… Love is a choice and she must choose to love you. No one and no thing can make her love you. Just be yourself and let her find you herself.”

This is why Quill is my advisor and dearest friend. He is wise and is always good with advice.

The day drags on as Quills words echo in my brain. Let her fall in love with me on her own. Why does that even make sense? I mean, I know everyone will put on a mask and treat her kindly and act like who they think she’d like so the best way to let her fall for me is to do the opposite.

We arrive at Queen Myla’s palace as dusk begins to blanket the world with her comforting shadows. I can see rulers from neighboring countries gathering to meet the mysterious queen.

Palace guards escort us to the throne room and none can help but marvel at the beauty. The floors are polished black marble filled with golden webs. Obsidian columns tower above, cradling a ceiling of stars. The illusion of stars came from gems embedded in the black ceiling. One would wonder how Queen Myla lit her throne room but she managed. Torches lounged on every column and their glow reflected off the precious stones. My gaze wandered to the front of the room. Two steps up led to a white marble platform that held a silver throne. Seated on the throne was who I assumed to be the queen. Her dark gown flowed to the floor, hiding her legs and feet. As my eyes traveled up, I noticed her gown was not form fitting at all but loose as my spy had described. Her hands were gloved with silver fabric and resting on the arms of her throne. My eyes came to rest on the veil hiding her face. Not an inch of skin could be seen.

Guards flanked her, staring ahead. My eyes noticed a guard standing rather close to the queen, closer than the others. I wonder why.

Queen Myla begins signing something and the guard who was close to her begins to translate the signs. “Welcome all, the queen is delighted to see many of you here and looks forward to celebrating with you. Since Myla has become queen, the country of Atarius has become reclusive and relied on only herself and her people but now it is time to befriend her neighbors and come out of her reclusive state.”

A man from another country responds, “If Myla wants to befriend us, why won’t she talk herself? Or show her face at least?”

The guard’s hand slid to the hilt of his sword, “First off, it is Queen Myla to everyone here, you are in no position to disregard her title or disrespect her. She welcomed you into her kingdom. Secondly, watch your tongue or have it cut from your head. I will not hesitate to show you how to respect a lady. Finally, she owes no one an explanation. If you cannot respect that alone, you are free to leave and never return.”

Queen Myla had yet to move in response to the man’s comment. Her hand glided through the air to the guard’s arm. I watched as she traced something on his bicep. The guard only nodded and relaxed. Did they have a relationship? Is that why she rejected all?

As the night waltzed on, Queen Myla’s voice was never heard, but rather the guard voiced her words for her. I noted that she didn’t eat nor drink. Why? What was her reason for keeping her face covered?

At some point, my curiosity got the best of me. “Your majesty,” I began, “I mean no disrespect but I am dreadfully curious.”

Her head bowed for a moment, an invitation to ask my question.

“Why do you hide your face? Why do you not speak? Again, I mean no disrespect.”

Her hands glided through the air and the guard translated, “I hide my face for many reasons. One is for respect. If I were to show my feminine features, men would not respect me as much as they do, though I am still respected less than men are. By hiding my face, you have no way of seeing the femininity in my face, forcing you to ignore how I may look and respect me. This is why my dresses aren’t like dresses of women in other courts. As for my voice, I was mocked for my voice long before I became silent. It will not happen again.”

“Mocked? How?” I watched the guard, careful not to cross any boundaries.

“I was the only heir to the throne. My voice was soft and fragile. The court used to mock my voice, sneering at how soft it was. I was told to marry a man with a deep, strong voice as soon as I came of age so I wouldn’t have to make any decrees and would be taken more seriously.”

“Were you ever married?”

She shakes her head, “I didn’t wish to be married.”

I nodded, it was understandable. I didn’t want to be married either when I first became king. Probably for different reasons but nonetheless, I could understand. “Queen Myla, I brought you a gift.”

The guard rolls his eyes. He must’ve been tired of all her suitors bringing gifts.

I produced a small box made of midnight valadium. As I stand, I feel everyone’s eyes drift to the box. I thank my blacksmith for being good at crafting. As I handed her the box, the guard stiffens, watching me. I return to my seat and watch as he whispers to her.

Her head bows and she traces on his arm again. What did they say? Her hands glide over the lid and I know she’s admiring the box. I was right to have him engrave flowers. I noticed he had added a small proverb on the lid as well but it’d been too late to say anything. As her hands whirled through the air, the guard spoke, “Queen Myla says the box is beautiful. She loves the inscription as it rings true. Thank you kindly.”

“What’s the inscription?” Another guest asked. We’d all formally introduced ourselves earlier however, I hadn’t cared to pay attention. I was too busy admiring the castles interior. The queen had taste.

“Where there is love, there is hope.” The guard answered. I could hear venom in his voice. He was not pleased.

“Queen Myla,” I smiled, “Open the box, please?”

She nodded and opened it. Her gasp was barely audible as she gently lifted the flower out of the box. My heart gunned, hoping she was happy.

The yellow flower was just beginning to bloom. “I hope you like it. Happy birthday.” I beamed. Why was I happy over this. It was a simple flower as a gift. Well, a flower and a box.

She carefully set the flower down, and signed to a young servant. The servant nodded and left. Then she began signing to me which the guard translated, the venom dripping from his voice, “Queen Myla adores the gift. Flowers have always been among her favorite things.”

“I bet the royal garden is huge then, and lovely?”

Laughter poured from his throat, “No, we don’t have a royal garden.”

“Why not?” I tilted my head to the left.

“Queen Myla simply does not wish to have one. Her taxes are low so she doesn’t take from her people. She bought all the materials from the people of Atarius to give back to them. She believes having a garden strictly for herself would be a waste. However, the entire kingdom has a community garden. Everyone is allowed to eat the food grown and use the herbs. Farmers help tend to it.”

The next few days, we toured Atarius. The kingdom was beautiful. Most kingdoms have run down homes towards the boarders but not Atarius. Even the poorest had decent homes. I learned Queen Myla hated the idea of anyone living in poverty and did her best to ensure no one did. In return, her people were loyal. Many brought her gifts that varied from flowers to fresh baked pastries to jewelry.

She held nightly parties in which the entire kingdom attended or sent their blessings. The parties weren’t grand like others I’d attended. There was no fancy band playing music. No one to cater to you at the snap of a finger. There was a buffet of food prepared by the citizens. Even the queen had pitched in to help prepare the food.

Still, her voice was never heard. She hadn’t even slipped up and said anything. It seemed the entire kingdom knew her hand language. I suppose her voice wasn’t necessary if her people knew her language. I decided to learn her language in order to communicate with her.

On the fourth night of my stay, I asked her for a dance which she graciously accepted. As we danced, I spoke. I knew she wouldn’t respond vocally which was a bit disappointing. “I admire the way you run your kingdom. You run it well if you’re loved so much by your people. You said you were told your voice would make it harder to run a country. I don’t believe that. Your people love you dearly, I believe you’d still be respected.”

I tried to see through the veil that covered her face but even still, as close as I was I could not. “Do you think, while I am here, you could teach me your hand language?”

She nearly headbutt me when she nodded. Her eagerness was endearing. I wanted to know who silenced her and make them pay for their crime. She was nothing but admirable, how could someone be so cruel?

The days bled on and I spent every spare moment focusing on learning the hand language. I learned to say “thank you”, “please” , “hello”, and other simple phrases first. After a day of learning, I’d learned a bit. It was quite simple, though she had to slow her movements for me so I could keep up. By the end of the week, I could translate small sentences.

One day, as we were walking through the town, she and her guard were teaching me. He grew impatient and snapped at me. That’s when she slipped, “Warin! Patience!”

Two words. She silenced and excused herself. I watched as she left. Why had she snapped.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Fire and Darkness

Member: Seokjin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by You Should See Me in a Crown, Bilie Eillish 

Rating: PG-13

Idea: Persephone!Y/N + Hades!Seokjin

WC: 2,421

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

“More wine?” Seokjin offers, politely dabbing his lips with a dark, linen napkin.

The entire table is elegantly set with fine silver plating and red bouquets of poppies. Poppies are your mother’s favorite flower, although you could have told Seokjin she would remain unimpressed. Demeter regards the dinner before her with the stiff boredom of the upper class, deigning to dine with the lesser.

“No, thank you.” Deliberate, the goddess sets down her fork. “I rarely indulge when I travel. Tell me, daughter,” she says, turning to you. “How go things in the Underworld?”

Demeter says the word Underworld in the same way some might say vermin. Arching a brow, Seokjin faces you in tandem. His lips are pressed tightly together, as though he is trying to hold in his laughter.

“The same as usual,” you say with a shrug. “Fire. Torture. Lots of dead people.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch, though he remains silent. His dark aura is prominent, rolling off him in waves. When you first met, you found this to be intimidating but now, his power is merely a comfort to you. A solid reassurance he sits there beside you.

Demeter winces at your bluntness. “Well.” Lifting a small piece of ambrosia, she daintily chews. “At least there are only three months left of your banishment, daughter. Soon, you’ll be home where you belong. On Mount Olympus.”

Seokjin’s grip on his knife tightens. 

He harbors no love lost for Olympus, for the brothers who cast him out with nary a thought. You hold little love for the mountain either, but this is a fact Demeter chooses to ignore.

“Yes, of course,” you say, reaching out for your glass. The dark gemstones of your diadem glimmer when you turn your head. “I welcome the day.”

If your mother truly listened, she would hear the lie in your voice, but Demeter either does not, or will not. Seokjin does, though. His gaze permeates the dark haze of the room; he is looking at you, always looking at you. This is his dominion, after all – the depths of the Underworld. The endless shadow realm with which he was tasked to rule. It is his Kingdom which Demeter insults. Your Kingdom, as well, for six months of the year.

This was the bargain struck behind both of your backs.

Releasing a sigh, Demeter adjusts her fork on the table. “I am sorry this had to be done, darling,” she says, reaching out for your hand. Although you stiffen, you try not to bite back. “Leaving you down here with him... such a horrible God in such a dastardly place…”

Seokjin lifts a brow. “Horrible, yes. Deaf? Sadly not.”

Demeter continues as though he has not spoken. “Trust me,” she says. “I’m doing everything in my power to convince the Pantheon of your return.”

“Oh, please.” Yanking your hand back, you cut into your meal. “As though you weren’t part of the decision to send me here. You wanted to marry me off to the Underworld. You hoped I would mother a new God.”

Your marriage was a surprise to you, although it shouldn’t have been. These things do happen occasionally. The main pantheon of Gods convene and force the marriage of the lesser, hoping for a child who might bolster their ranks. You know this is what happened to you, even if no one will say it outright. 

Demeter’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. “That is not why you were sent here.”

“Oh?” Equally delicately, you set your silverware down. “So, am I to believe the official version? The human version? The one where Seokjin saw me, kidnapped me and tied me to his bedposts – yes?”

“Completely inaccurate.” Seokjin continues to chew. “I only tie those to my bed who ask to be tied there.”

You continue glaring at Demeter. “We all know the truth, mother. Let us not play pretend.”

Seokjin’s smile widens at your fierceness. He loves it when you get like this; when you are boiling over with purpose and passion. It was one of the first compliments he gave you. This was after your wedding, spoken out of surprise – that someone as seemingly delicate as you were could command such fierce anger.

Gaze narrowed, you meet your mother’s stare head-on. “Do not enter our home and proceed to spout lies.”

“Our.” Demeter’s lips thin. “My, that did not take long. How quickly the world changes, darling.”

“Does it?” You reach out, tracing a line down the petals of a poppy. Instantly, the blood-red veins brighten. “I have never truly felt Mount Olympus was my home. Not in the same way you do. I am not one of the twelve. I am not in charge of anything big, nor important and I was treated as such. Here, though...” 

You leave your thought unfinished. Lifting your gaze to your mother’s, you settle back in your seat. The darkness becomes you, glinting off your crown.

Demeter clenches her jaw. “You act as though the Underworld is preferable to Olympus.”

“Olympus has never been kind to me.”

“Nor to me.” Casually, Seokjin swirls his wine. “Namjoon has always been rather touchy about the sky and Taehyung, the sea. It is not as though I chose this land to govern, you know. Of course you do,” he says, his upper lip curled. “You were there in the beginning, Demeter.”

Demeter draws herself taller. “And yet,” she says, facing him for the very first time. “You seem to have done well enough for yourself.”

Seokjin’s smile widens. 

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, a river of glowing fire is visible. Steam curls wherever lava touches obsidian, gemstones glimmering on either side. It is a stunning visual, if a somewhat unconventional one. There is nothing like it on Mount Olympus.

“I make do,” Seokjin says simply.

Sniffing, Demeter pushes her chair back to stand. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for that nightcap,” she says, her hands folded before her. Soft, violet light radiates from her form. “I must return to my duties.”

“Pity.” Your chair screeches when you stand, yet you pay this no mind. “The visit was too short.”

Demeter’s eyes narrow as she nods, as though in agreement. Turning around, she glides across the floor.

In any other domain, Demeter would simply vanish at will. Not in the Underworld though, where beings can only come and go at Seokjin’s behest. Gods and mortals alike must exit in the same manner – rowed across the river Styx by Charon, beneath the gaping jaws of Cerberus.

Seokjin watches your mother leave, a polite smile on his lips. When the door closes behind her, echoing through the room, he holds up a hand. Seokjin waits, listening for something before his body relaxes.

“She’s gone,” he says, glancing your way. “Just exited the palace. Charon will take it from there.”

Still staring at the door, you pull yourself from your thoughts. Turning around, you push your mother from mind as you stride towards the window. Each step you take transforms your clothes, lengthening and darkening from the springtime colors you know your mother prefers. Loosening your hair, you let this fall to your neck.

Coming to a stop, you survey the world at your feet. On your first day in the Underworld, you were determined to hate it. There were no pleasant stories about the darkest of Gods. Seokjin was rumored to be moody and fierce, with the gall of enjoying the hellish Kingdom he ruled.

Of course – as it is with most things concerning the Gods – Seokjin was not as he seemed.

He was moody, yes and he could be fierce when provoked. Never to you though, which you saw right away. The Gods warned you he loved to play games and so, when you met, you had your guard up.

Despite this, he greeted you at the gates for your arrival. Your first day was a tour; Seokjin led you through the Underworld with the same reserved politeness as a tour guide on holiday.

You saw none of his legendary fire and brimstone then – Seokjin merely nodded, leading you around the palace. His realm was nothing at all like what you’d imagined. The other Gods only spoke of the Underworld disparagingly, with a tinge of fear to their tone. They said Seokjin’s Kingdom was the land of dead things, of cold things, but now you know better.

The Underworld is a realm of fire and darkness, of whimsy and spirit – there are no limits within as to what you can achieve. In the reflection of the palace window, you see Seokjin walk up alongside you.

His appearance has also changed with the departure of Demeter. Instead of his company garments, Seokjin is dressed in a plain tunic and trousers. His hair is darker, messier and framing his face. No jewelry adorns his body, save for the gold band upon his finger.

Upon reaching your side, Seokjin glances sideways. “Are you alright?” 

Slowly, you nod. Still staring at the wasteland, your gaze roams molten lakes, rugged mountains and glimmering terrain. Beyond the river Phlegethon, which cuts through the gardens, lies the region of Tartarus wherein rest the damned. Seokjin keeps them close by, lest they escape and harm the rest of the Underworld.

The rest of your kingdom is nothing like this. Elysium is by far your favorite part of your domain – full of golden meadows which smell of baked bread, fields of asphodel which bloom in whimsical colors. Seokjin loves to change them at his fancy. He loves it even more when you do the same.

All other Gods reign over the living. They control whatever handful of mortals populate its surface and yet, beneath it all, you and Seokjin are masters of creation.

Nodding, you turn. “I am,” you assure, stepping closer.

Reaching out, Seokjin delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He looks at you tenderly, despite the fire to his gaze. In response, a blistering heat spreads over your body. Before you met Seokjin, you didn’t understand this connection. You only knew of want, of need – never of this. Never of love.

The first few months in his land were admittedly lonely. Seokjin gave you space, staying as far away from the palace as possible. He thought he was granting you a favor by this; he thought you hated him, like the rest of the Gods.

With time though, the ice between you began to thaw. Your glances lengthened in nature, touches softened and lingered. Before you knew what was happening, you were paying attention. 

You found Seokjin not as serious as the rest of the Gods said. Most of his fierceness was reserved for his domain. When he was not ruling, Seokjin dearly loved to laugh. One night he said he loved your laugh the most.

When you returned to Olympus, you didn’t realize how difficult the separation would be.

You thought you would enjoy being home. You imagined when you came back things would return to normal, but the shadows of Seokjin clung to your existence. Most nights you lay awake and imagined his touch. Most days, your thoughts strayed to his arms, to his kisses and the inexorable sound of his laughter.

Without him, the halls of Olympus felt strangely empty.

You only saw him once during those long summer months – the solstice; a night where all gods gathered on Mount Olympus to celebrate. Even Seokjin was to attend, the mighty God of the Underworld, who rarely left his realm of darkness.

The moment he set foot on the mountain, you knew. You could feel his presence in your bones, you glanced up when he entered and found him looking at you. When your gazes met, he softened. When you saw him, you strengthened.

And then, you realized everyone around you had stiffened. That was when you saw Olympus for what it truly was. As the bride of the Underworld, you finally saw how they treated him. Seokjin was a God. He was a member of the Pantheon, one of the most powerful beings in existence and yet, he was held separate.

Seeing how cruel the Olympians were tore you apart; it replaced the ache in your chest with a fierce desire.

When your six months of penance were over, you fairly flung yourself across the river Styx. Seokjin waited calmly when you ran into his arms. That was the moment you realized where you belonged. 

At home – with him.

Tilting your chin upwards, you meet Seokjin’s gaze. “You aren’t horrible, you know.”

He raises a brow. “How rude,” he says as he draws you near. “I don’t come into your home and insult your better nature.”

“This is my home.”

“Oh, right.” Seokjin hovers above your mouth. “The sentiment stands.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you chide, sliding hands up his back.

Seokjin shivers – the fearsome lord of the Underworld, undone by your touch. “I wouldn’t,” he admits, bending to brush his nose with yours.

Satisfied, your grip on him tightens. Since you fell in love, you have found parts of yourself which lay dormant before. You uncovered a carnal, seductive woman who takes what she desires. Before, you always asked for permission. Before, you always waited for permission to be granted.

With Seokjin though, you’re his Queen and there is no need to ask. He encourages you to act on your desires – insists upon it.

Tilting your head, you brush your lips with his. The moment before your lips touch, something inexplicable crosses his expression. Something almost like uncertainty, which gives you pause.

“What is it?” you say, pulling back.

Seokjin hesitates, which is unusual. Although he is quiet, Seokjin speaks his mind freely to you. Still, the shadows behind him seem to lengthen with each passing second.

“Do you…” His normally stoic gaze flickers. “Do you wish Demeter to be successful?”

“What do you mean?” 

Seokjin strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The rest of the Pantheon put you here. My brothers put you here. It was not your choice to marry me, even if I did not ask. Do you ever… wish to return?”

Your answer requires no pause. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you say, stepping closer. Pressing your chest to his, you look up. “My burden is not what you imagine it to be.”

“No?” Seokjin seems mildly amused by your certainty. “Pray tell.”

“Perhaps it was at first,” you admit, wanting to be honest. “I didn’t want to leave the world I knew. But now...” You glance past him, to where the river Phlegethon cuts a golden path through the gardens. It sends a strange hum of rightness through you. “I would not be anywhere else. My burden now is being parted from you,” you whisper, returning to Seokjin.

Hope flickers, however brief, within his dark gaze.

“You brought me to life,” you say, hands sliding up his back. “With you,” you add, meeting his gaze. “I finally feel like myself.”

Something sparks in him then, lowering his beautiful brow to yours. “You are the only alive thing in this world,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “If I played the smallest part in this, my Queen, then consider me satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” you purr, lips lifted in a smile.

Seokjin’s dark gaze turns carnal. “Never,” he confesses, kissing you deeply.

   © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[lauwrite1225]

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 10

Summary :  Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made her arrival to Wessex, the Irishman is forced to deal with his past.

Other chapters

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : none

10 || ANGER

Dealla instinctively put a hand on her belly as she watched Conall push everything that was on the table. Parchments fell on the floor, ink as well, who spread in a puddle. His fists crashed loudly on the wooden desk and she almost jumped. He grumbled some curses, his head tucked between his shoulders. She chewed her lower lip nervously.

“I can’t believe it.” He said under his breath. He slowly looked up to Dealla, disbelief and anger fighting in his pupils. “How can he be still alive?”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe it either. The man she married as a young woman had been sold and could only be dead. She closed her eyes, a brief moment, remembering the face of Finan the first time she met him. He was just a teenager, joyful and kind with her. She appreciated him and when her father announced her that they were betrothed, she thought that maybe their marriage would be blessed by love.

The man she saw today was a warrior, marked by years of suffering and battles. He was nothing of the Prince she once knew.

“He isn’t the same man.” She declared, but it didn’t prevent Conall to hit the table once more. She jumped and held her breath when she noticed the blood on his knuckles.

“I don’t care!” He barked. “He is still my brother. He is still the reason why she’s dead.”

Dealla didn’t expect Moira to hurt her again. Everyone knew how Conall had lost interest in the young maid and yet, years after she betrayed him by fleeing with Finan, he couldn’t forget her. This woman ruined her first marriage and Conall was reminding her of it every time he was mentioning her. She felt so much anger when he decided to name their first daughter after her.

“Indeed, she’s dead and it won’t change.” She watched him walking toward her.

“You can’t understand, woman.” He said between his teeth.

“Don’t you think I can?” She made a step, anger taking the lead of her mind. “He betrayed me, as much as you.” She was close enough to noticed how his jaw twitched as his pupils were dancing in his eyes.

“Ailis.” Another name she hated. “She betrayed me too.”

“By bringing him here or by the solution she brought you ?” She asked him, trying to not show more of her anger.

“Both.” He groaned. He loudly exhaled as he leant his head back. “I trusted her.”

She couldn’t help but feel satisfaction to hear him doubting his childhood friend. Dealla knew she had always been a part of Conall’s revenge on Finan, even if he was far from Irish’s shore when he married her. But she grew to appreciate him, maybe because they shared the same feeling of betraying. And though, she started to hate Ailis. Because she didn’t feel anger against Finan and it didn’t prevent Conall to still have trust in her. And the idea that there was maybe more between them couldn’t leave her mind.

But she had to be objective, for the good of her Kingdom. What Ailis does was always for the good of Ulaid. She dedicated her life to those lands and she couldn’t see any reason for it to change. “Ailis is loyal to you.” She declared, word almost burning her throat. “If she brought you this solution, then it is the only possible.”

“And losing our lands to those heathens?” He growled. “That’s no solution. I refuse to surrender to them.”

Dealla opened her mouth to say more but a knock on the door stopped her. Conall took a moment before rising his voice and allowing the person to enter. The servant’s eyes jumped between them, seeming terrified. No doubt the word of what happened in the throne room was already spreading.

“What is it?” Barked Conall to the young man.

“Hum… Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg wishes to speak with you, Lord King.” He stammered.

Conall raised his eyebrows and turned to his wife, an amused sigh escaping his lips. “Let’s see what the Dane Slayer has to say.”

 …

 Conall’s fingers were frenetically drumming on his chair’s armrest. No word had been said yet and Uhtred was still standing at the other side of the table. The Irish King had heard a lot of the famous man and he couldn’t say if he was how he imagined him or the total opposite. There was a strength emanating from him that wasn’t just physical. Conall could feel how his eyes were studying him, analyzing his visible weakness. He knew the man could kill him in one precise stroke but it didn’t frighten him. He was King after all.

“So, my brother is pledged to you.” Conall bitterly said.

 Uhtred narrowed his eyes. “I’m not here to talk of Finan.” He replied, a hand nervously wandering around his belt, deprived of the usual weapons weighing it.

“He should be dead.” Conall ignored Uhtred, his gaze focus on his fingers. “And I wonder why he isn't.” He slowly turned his attention on the Dane Slayer, the drumming suddenly stopping.

Uhtred grinded his teeth while frowning. The man seemed upset and it pleased Conall. But the Dane finally smirked, some defiance in his gaze. “Maybe you should ask your God.”

Conall remained indifferent, his eyebrows furrowing to make wrinkles in between. But Uhtred was probably right and he was eager to find out why God let his brother live. He leaned back in his chair and started to tap the armrest again. He studied Uhtred a little more until he started to take out a parchment from his belt. He walked to the table and put it just in front of Conall. The King’s eyes jumped between Uhtred and the letter a few times before finally taking it. He carefully rolled it out and scrutinized the thin letter write in dark ink.

“It’s a letter from King Edward himself.” Uhtred explained, crossing his arms. “He wrote down the accord he made with Ailis.”

Indeed, all was explained. But Edward not only explained the agreement, he also detailed his arguments and why Conall should rather accept the proposition. It upset him that even miles away from Ulaid, the situation of his kingdom was known. A Damocles sword was upon Ulaid, and Edward was the one holding it.

“He wants one of my daughters and I have to let the South to the Danes.” Conall summarized as he closed the letter. “I don’t feel like I’m winning much.” He looked up to Uhtred who seemed to struggle to not rolled his eyes.

“You’re winning peace.” He replied.

“I am losing lands and a daughter.” He argued, enlacing his fingers together.

“It is a good marriage. You’ll get benefit from it.” Uhtred made another step and leaned a little down. “You can have benefits from this peace too. The Danes want lands to cultivate and live. If you stop seeing them as the enemies, maybe you could make this kingdom prosper.”

Conall narrowed his eyes as his interlocutor tilted his head, in wait for an answer. He let out an amused sigh. “For a Dane Slayer, you seemed to appreciate them a lot.”

Uhtred loudly exhaled. “This the only solution you have. Take it or not, this isn’t my problem.” He retorted, his finger pointing his own chest.

Conall sat up from his chair, his two hands flat on the table, in an attempt to intimidate the Dane. He met cold blue eyes and he didn’t see the fear that would usually appear. And in a way it reminded him of Ailis. The only person who would have the guts to oppose him but still fight for him.

“You can leave.” He finally said. “I need to think about this.”

Uhtred frowned as he watched the King sat down on the chair, waving with his hands toward the door. So, he bowed his head before leaving as Conall asked him. 

 …

 The hot water made Ailis shivered as she put a leg in the water. After days off travelling, her body was sore and she thought a warm bath was all that she could deserve. As she sank the rest of her body in the water, she slowly tried to forget the last event of the day. 

When Uhtred came back from his meeting with Conall, she decided to go back to the castle, despite the wary look of Finan. But she needed sometime alone, to think. She closed her eyes and plunged in the water. For a moment she thought about nothing else but the warm feeling on her skin and how her muscles seemed to relax. When bubbles stopped escaping her nose, she got her head out of the water, taking a deep breath.

It was sudden return to reality, images of what happened in the throne room earlier mixed with some of older events. Each time, her mind was showing her Finan’s face. From the frightened young man to the warrior he was now.  She sighed, pressing the back of her neck against the edge of the bath. The feel of his hand was still on her shoulder and for a moment, as she let her fingers ran along her neck and jaw, she wondered what it would feel if it was his owns. She shivered at the simple idea of his touch on her skin, her heart beating harder in her chest. She remembered the feel of his calloused hands in hers, how soft was his hair that night before they reach Aegelsburg. Her teeth bit her lower lips while her thumb was tracing the upper. She felt her body wrapped in the warmth of Finan’s embrace when they were in Winchester’s palace corridor, the way his arms were around her waist and his breath caressing her neck.

She suddenly snapped her eyes open when a feeling, she thought could never have again, grew in her stomach. She splashed water on her face, shaking it vigorously, as the thoughts would disappear. She quickly washed her body and finally got out of the bath. She wrapped herself in a towel before putting on a nightgown. She found with pleasure the softness of her bed, lying on it slowly. Sleep wasn’t hard to find after days of sleeping against the hull of a ship or the humid grown of a forest.

In the morning, a servant brought a word of Conall, asking her to join him for his breakfast. She clenched her jaw, this wasn’t an invitation of simple courtesy. When she entered the room, Conall was sitting at the end of a huge table. He eagerly bit in a piece of bread as he waved her to sit.

“How long has it been since the last time we lunched together?” He asked as she took place.

“Two full moons, at least.” She said.

“The time you needed for the long trip I sent you to.” He smiled, a smile through Ailis could easily perceive the meanness of him. “You must have met many people during this trip.” Ailis frowned and Conall leaned back in his chair. “I must admit, that one of them intrigues me more than the others.”

Ailis slightly opened her mouth but closed it when Conall eyes fell on her.

“Where did you meet him?” Conall dryly asked. 

“At Edward's Witan, when I arrived in Winchester.” She explained. 

Conall let out an amused huff. “A slave in a Witan?” 

The red hair glared at him, as if the insult was meant for her. But the truth was that she couldn't get used to the fact that Conall and Finan hated each other. And in a way, thinking Finan dead was maybe hurtful but easier to accept. 

“Finan isn't a slave anymore. He is a free man.” She snapped in a tone she rarely used in front of Conall, making him raise an eyebrow. She pinched her lips, her hand squeezing her knee under the table as the King leant toward her. 

“And I wonder how he became one. How now he is pledged to the Dane Slayer.” Conall tilted his head, curious eyes staring at Ailis like he could see in her like an open book. “What did he find him? Why did he free him?”

She looked away from him a moment, hesitating to tell the truth. “He didn’t free him.” She softly said. “They were both on the slave ship and were saved by Ragnar Ragnarson.”

Conall frowned, he knew that name. The famous Dane came years ago to ransack Ireland with Ivar the Boneless. Conall first battle was against those Danes. Ailis remembered him coming back, a livid look, to Navan Fort. Battles hadn’t been what he expected even after the many lessons of Ailis’ father and Finan. While Finan had been at the head of the army with his father and uncle, Conall was at the back, and even though he hadn’t seen the worst of the battle, it had been enough for him to have nightmares for weeks.

“That’s the devil doing then.” He declared making Ailis gasp.

“This is not!” She argued, standing up from her chair.

Conall looked at her with wide eyes. Her hands were firmly closed in fists and her jaw was as much clenched. He stood up too, taking a step towards Ailis.

“You seem to care for him.” Conall said, his voice bitter.

“I always cared for him, as much I care for you.” She answered, trying to calm herself as he approached her even more.

Conall was now close enough for her to feel his heavy hot breath. She lifted her chin to meet his eyes, not scared to confront him.

“But he betrayed me and you are loyal to me.” He grumbled.

“I am loyal to the King, not to Conall.” She replied, her eyes narrowing.

Conall said nothing but his anger was clear on his face, his cheeks turning red and his nostrils slightly widening. But Ailis didn’t flinch, holding his gaze.

“Now Lord King, I’d like to retire.” She demanded but she didn’t wait for Conall’s consent to step back and leave the room.

A/N : Aaaah i am so sorry for taking so much time to write this! But i had some family stuff those days and I had a hard time to find a moment to write D: 

But I am back with this ! A chapter with no Finan, uhuh sorry, but a lot of Conall lmaoo. Did i say that i love his character ? Such a bastard lmaoo. I’d like to thank @othermoony​ again for helping me to clear my ideas for this chapter and the next one. Talking of the next one, i think you’ll like it hehe.

Tag: @geekandbooknerd​​​ @sihtric​​​ @queen-manning​​​ @naihqh​​​ @kelly-fasel​​​ @cloudjuumpers​​​ @limenal​​​ @amyyreblogss​​​​ @othermoony​​ and @queerbroceliande​

[princessjungeun]

Chuuves Royalty AU~ Part 3

Sooyoung managed to sneak back onto the palace grounds successfully, however she didn’t make it into the palace unnoticed. The thing about her palace was that her sleeping chamber is on the front of the castle. That being said anyone who is by a window on the right side of the place will see the princess sneaking in and out of her chamber. Usually her favorite groundskeeper, Mark, is able to keep a watch for her.

Unfortunately Mark had fallen ill and would be out for another week. That being said, Sooyoung could only hope nobody was not only able to see her, but also waiting for her in her room.

The princess quickly climbed a nearby tree, she then rolled up her sleeves and looked around to see if anyone was watching. When she assumed the coast was clear she started to scale the palace wall—about two years ago Mark noticed Sooyoung climbing out of her window. He knew she had a way out but not in without going unnoticed. So he installed a few extra bricks along the palace wall to use as a climbing wall so she could sneak in and out with ease— Hyunjin left the window open for her as usual.

Sooyoung lost her footing at the last second as she was halfway through the window. Resulting in her face planting onto the floor. It was only now that she realized she had fallen at the feet of someone.

Her eyes traveled up and she saw her father standing over her, clearly peeved. Sooyoung stood up, and brushed her dress off. Smiling innocently she rocked back and forth on her toes, weakly saying “heyyy daddy...”

The king sternly told her “Ha Sooyoung! You have run off one too many times. Not only are you embarrassing yourself, but this entire empire. Why do you keep doing this to us?”

Sooyoung kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed, “you know I have no interest in letting a man control me and this empire when the time comes. Hell I don’t even WANT to be queen, just have another kid so I don’t

Her father sighed before saying “you have one more suitor coming tomorrow. Prince Jiseok of the south Kim Empire will be coming tomorrow. His younger sister is slightly younger than you, she will also be attending. You will be with her for hours before as well. This way you will not have a way to pull one of your games.”

Sooyoung deeply sighed, running a hand through her hair, “are you serious? I have to babysit this girl?” The king responded “Sooyoung, she is 21. Just slightly younger than you. To be quite honest she takes her position more than you. I hope you will learn from her.”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes, already tired of this conversation, “yeah yeah fine whatever. No games.”

The king nodded and said “thank you.” He snapped his fingers at Hyunjin and asked politely “if you could please help her clean up before bed please?” Hyunjin nodded and quickly pushed the princess towards the bathroom.

For the rest of the night Hyunjin was stuck listening to Sooyoung complain about how she didn’t want to meet another suitor.

•

•

•

The next morning Hyunjin woke Sooyoung up as she did every morning, dragging her out of bed while listening to her bitch and moan about whatever was planned for the day.

“Sooyoungie I think this won’t be as bad as you think. Heejin is close friends with Princess Jiwoo, apparently she’s very sweet.” Hyunjin tried her best to tell Sooyoung to calm down.

Sooyoung had eventually gave in after finding guards at every entrance and window of the castle. Her father had clearly ordered them to stand guard keeping Sooyoung home all day.

The princess complained the entire afternoon, Hyunjin honestly finding it quite funny. It wasn’t until another worker knocked on Sooyoung’s door th at she quit complaining.

“Excuse me, I would like to let the princess know that her guests have arrived. The king would like her to report downstairs to greet them promptly.” The young worker told Hyunjin to relay the message.

Sooyoung sat up on her bed and asked “aren’t they two hours early?”

Hyunjin checked her watch, nodding and saying “yes but the king wants you downstairs so that’s where we are going.”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes and slapped her tiara on her head. Hyunjin stopped her quickly, brushing her hair nicely and placing the tiara back on her head. Hyunjin once d her over quickly, “Just because you’re moody doesn’t mean you can’t look pretty.”

The princess smiled weakly before straightening her posture and heading downstairs.

Sooyoung looked around to see nobody in the main room of the castle. She turned to a guard and asked “where’s my dad?”

The guard replied “the king has called a meeting with Prince Jiseok privately in his study. The princess is in the garden, you may find her there along with her handmaiden.”

Sooyoung sighed and thanked the guard, wandering into the garden.

Upon walking past the windows that lined the garden she saw the princess. Her black hair fell effortlessly behind her back, small bangs lightly covering her forehead. She could see the princess giggling as a butterfly landed on her nose, happily kicking her feet on the ground gently. Her smile was the brightest Sooyoung had ever seen, one that had seemed like it never faded, as if it never knew sadness.

“Sooyoungie lets not keep her waiting now.” Hyunjin held the door open, leading Sooyoung out to the garden.

The princess immediately stood up, smiling as she turned to face Sooyoung. The girl let out a high pitched squeal before hugging Sooyoung so tight she felt that her lungs would pop.

“Oh my goodness you are so pretty I can’t believe I’m meeting Ha Sooyoung of the Ha Empire. It’s such an honor! Oh goodness I can’t wait to be best friends! Oh this is my best friend and my handmaiden. Her name is Lalisa Manoban. She is such a good handmaiden oh my goodness this morning she killed this spider in my room. It was so big and scary I thought I was going to die! But she saved me isnt that so nice of her! Oh I see you have a handmaiden too whats her name?!” Jiwoo spoke at least 10 words per second and somehow Sooyoung managed to catch all of them.

Sooyoung stated “it’s nice to meet you too. This is Kim Hyunjin, she’s also my handmaiden and best friend.”

Sooyoung led Jiwoo to her bedroom, not wishing to stay in the outdoors any longer than she had to. Although Jiwoo was in fact very nice, Sooyoung just didnt click with her. She was loud and very excited about every little thing. Her energy was far higher than what Sooyoung was willing to tolerate.

Two hours into Jiwoo rambling on about how she wanted a pet penguin, Hyunjin and Lalisa were notified that the dinner was ready.

The two princesses headed to the main dining room alone with their handmaidens. Sooyoung noticed that second Jiwoo entered the room, her entire demeanor changed. The girl that was just whining about how she wanted a pet penguin was now standing tall, her chin held high with a subtle smile in her face.

“Good evening King Ha, it is a pleasure to meet you this evening.” Jiwoo spoke in an octave that Sooyoung didn’t think the other could actually use. For once her ears weren’t bleeding from the high pitched squeals and shrieks she was used to hearing.

“Good evening Princess Jiwoo, I see you spent time with my Sooyoung.” The king motioned to his daughter, a slight side eye to her as well.

Jiwoo smiled brightly “yes I did. Princess Sooyoung is very sweet, we had a good talk with each other.”

Sooyoung thought about how she did absolutely no talking in the two hours they spent together. She was snapped out of her trance when her father mentioned that she needed to introduce herself.

•

•

•

The dinner itself wasn’t terrible, Sooyoung’s favorite food was served after all. The princess didn’t fail to notice the way Jiwoo’s behavior was one she’d only even seen in her own mother, the queen. The way she was able to give clear and concise answers to every question the king asked. She knew everything about her empire down to each village. Jiwoo knew everything, even things she didn’t need to know, she knew. She was like little miss princess perfect and Sooyoung hated that.

“Jiwoo have you started looking for suitors yet? Perhaps thinking of getting married in the coming years?” The king asked, Sooyoung already knowing if Jiwoo answered yes that it’d be thrown in her face.

Jiwoo’s eyes flickered down then to her brother who nodded gently with a smile. She weakly responded “yes sir I have met a few princes. There hasn’t been one to catch my eye quite yet though. It is always a pleasure meeting new princes though. All of them have been quite polite to me, very good young men.”

The king replied “I wish my Sooyoung could say the same. She has run off upon meeting every suitor, like a little child. I wish she could learn. She is so immature, nothing like you-”

Jiwoo cut him off “I don’t wish to be disrespectful sir, but I think every prince and princess can choose how involved they wish to be with their people. It is not a competition, no need to compare us really.”

The king replied “I must disagree with you on that Princess Jiwoo. I think every child of a royal must be involved. I am saying I think it is very immature of Sooyoung to run off. She doesn’t know anything that happens in the villages either, hell I don’t think she even knows the villages. She does nothing but sit around all day then run off to another kingdom. She doesn’t even respect her own. It’s truly a pity I didn’t get a wonderful daughter like your parents did. You seem much more useful to the throne.”

Sooyoung’s mother gasped and said “Honey now I think that’s enough.” The queen saw the death grip her daughter had on the fork in her hand, the way her eyes were starting to burn with tears.

He continued on, “she doesn’t do anything. No matter what I try to say she doesn’t care. She is a lost cause. This empire deserves better than what she will ever offer it and that is a fact.”

Sooyoung stood up, pushing her seat back in with a loud slam. She flung the door open, walking out quickly, but not fast enough to hear her father say “and there she is running off again. Pathetic.”

[girlmeetsliv3]

Prince of Nothing

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you...

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would've never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Release Date: Oct. 29th, 2019 6 pm (GMT-4)

How long had you been walking? By now, you were sure the blisters on your feet had begun to bleed. Your dry lips would soon do the same, but you couldn't risk stopping for a break. If you did, you were sure that he would find you, and once he did escape wouldn't be an option.

On the inside of your dress, the cool ring pressed against the warm swell of your breast. It was the only place where it could be hidden without causing discomfort. You had long pondered selling it or simply discarding it but resisted the temptation. Sure, you would gain a large sum of money for it, but it wasn't any ordinary ring. You were certain Jungkook had placed some sort of spell on it. The ring was a 59-carat pink star diamond held together by a black band. As if the ring itself didn’t draw enough attention, it was almost impossible to ignore the Jeon family crest engraved into the large stone. If you tried to sell it, you would only be identifying yourself as a member of the royal family. Since you weren't the king, the queen, or the prince, that meant you could only be… "Lady Y/n."

You stopped dead in your tracks. The hairs on the back of your neck standing rigidly as your fight or flight instinct kicked in. “Lady Y/n, we’ve been sent to escort you back to the palace. The prince anxiously anticipates your return.” You slowly turned around to face Kim Baekhyun, the head of security, along with Park Jinyoung. Both men were several feet away from you; at least ten by your calculations. At your lack of response, they both glanced at each other, a knowing look shared between them. This action caused you to subconsciously step back – ready to run at any moment. "If the prince wasn't me back so badly, why isn't he here himself?" You already knew why, but you were trying to delay the inevitable. Jungkook loved the chase, but he loved to see the disappointment on your face every time his guard dogs dragged you back into your cage. You quickly looked around for anything that could distract them long enough for you to escape. Sadly you came up empty-handed.  

“Haven’t you heard? There’s been a strike on the castle. Both the king and princess were left in a critical state.” Jinyoung spoke, though his words were meant to sound casual from behind his stoic mask, you could see the evil smile forming. It’s begun. You had failed to notice the tentative steps the men had been taking in your direction while you were preoccupied with your thoughts. It was only when Baekhyun accidentally stepped on a twig, snapping it, that you realized your mistake and took off running. The men giving chase. The guards were fast, but the adrenaline that pumped through your veins caused you to travel at a speed even you didn't know you were capable of. Jungkook’s blood must still be coursing through me.

A town lay just up ahead and if you made it - if you only managed to make it. A sharp, searing pain coursed through your left leg, causing the muscle freeze in midair. The burning traveled throughout your muscle until it all but consumed you. You screamed out in agony as you fell to the ground. Baekhyun and Jinyoung approached your crippled figure as you lay thrashing on the ground. The latter's hands glowing red from the power he was exuding. "I apologize, Lady Y/n, but we were told to use whatever means necessary to bring you back." Baekhyun crouched in front of you, as Jinyoung allowed the pain to slowly fade once he was sure you couldn’t move. “We hope you can understand. We’re just doing our job after all.” A sadistic smile adorned both men’s features as they took glee in observing your discomfort.

It was with a snap of his fingers that Jinyoung summoned the rest of the guards, their figures appearing instantly at your side. They swept you up, carrying you to the car stationed a few meters away. As the men loaded you into the car, you didn't miss the way the guards tried to keep their distance from you; only touching when absolutely necessary. Even Baekhyun and Jinyoung had avoided making physical contact with you, hell they probably hadn’t hurt you as badly as they wished too. For despite how much they loathed you, they feared Jungkook so much more.

When you returned to the palace, you noticed how solemn it looked. The castle may be thing of nightmares to you, but even that didn't take away from its beauty. The sharp arches, angels, and gothic vibe of the place, coupled with the lush interior and pristine detail was something you always dreamed of when you were a small child. Before you learned that the most horrible monsters tended to live in the nicest of places. You were escorted back to your room and placed under house arrest: not being allowed to do so much as open a window. They were afraid you would jump. You couldn't reasonably say that you wouldn't, given a chance.

You stood, sat, and laid in the room for hours on end, waiting for your tormentor's visit. Waiting for him to come and play with this favorite toy. Around midnight, you began to wonder if you had managed to get off scot-free. For the time being, at least. Though this only worried you more, Jungkook could barely manage to go a few hours without seeing you. The longest he had been away from you was three days if you counted today, and it seems he finally enacted his plan. Maybe he’s too busy with his father? You wanted to pray for the king's health. You desperately needed him to stay alive, for he was the last strand holding Jeon Jungkook back from enacting his will on the kingdom and on you. Jungkook never loved his father, and he had never met his mother. He once confessed to you that since the moment he had been conceived, he represented his father's inevitable death. Couple that with the fact that Jungkook had taken his own mother's life and it isn't too difficult to see why they have a strained relationship.

Many said that he sucked the life out of her the second he left her womb. You would have doubted their claims, if not for the fact that you had seen him do it with your very eyes. Take the life – energy – out of his enemy's bodies and absorb it as his own. All through a simple touch or caress. You often feared he would do the same to you, but unluckily Jungkook had stated that he would never grow tired of you. His lover, mistress, and toy.

You allowed another hour to pass before the need to bathe, and sleep almost consumed you. Entering the bathroom, you were greeted with a practically swimming pool sized bath in the center of the room and a large shower on the side. Both designed to fit multiple people and be overly extravagant. When you had first entered the palace, you had been shocked at the lifestyle its inhabitants lived: boisterous and lucrative. It also didn't help that the most luxurious thing you had owned all your life – landed you here in the first place.

Rose petals floated along with the bath as you sat on one of the stools allowing the warm water to soothe your muscles. With every second that passed, the heaviness of your eyelids seemed to grow. Until it was a constant struggle to keep them open. You knew how dangerous it was to allow them to close, but you were so tired it was almost impossible to resist. 'It's okay, Y/n. Just go to sleep. I promise nothing bad will happen.' A sweet voice whispered in your ear, lulling you to sleep. Eventually, you gave in, feeling blissful happiness that you were finally allowed to sleep. You could barely even feel your body slowly slipping beneath the water.

It was the pounding on the door that startled you awake. It was frantic in nature and persistent, causing you to immediately run towards the door as you wrapped a towel around your torso. Once you opened it, you were greeted with the sight of a maid. Her rose gold locks tucked tightly into a white bonnet, and her weary face expressed urgency. "Lady Y/n, the princess is requesting to see you. It's urgent." You nodded, and the maid, Irene, helped you get dressed before guiding you to the Princess' quarters.

“What is going on? Is everything alright?” You questioned her as the two of you ran through the halls. They were usually bustling with life, but now they were eerily quiet and deserted. "The princess…she is giving birth. We must hurry. The doctor doesn't think she'll make it." As much as you wanted to keep going, you couldn't help the way you slowed to a stop. Soojin can’t die. If she dies, that means – "Lady Y/n?" It means that, legally, nothing could prohibit Jungkook from marrying you. No longer would he have to hide and control himself around you, now he could be as possessive and sadistic as he wanted with no repercussions. “Lady Y/n, please.” You snapped out of your thoughts and ran to catch up with Irene.

The two of you finally stopping in front of large white double doors. Please let her be alright. Please. Even if it's for selfish reasons, please don't take her. Cautiously you twisted open the door handle, stepping inside as the door slowly closed behind you. Soojin was completely alone. Something that you had never seen as she was usually accompanied by her ladies. Her beautiful dark locks were matted against her forehead due to the sweat. It was almost impossible to miss the bright red bloody stain on her dress and the sheets under her. Even her beautiful skin was as pale as snow. “I didn’t think you would make it.” Soojin’s voice was hoarse and brittle. Her nearly lifeless eyes bore into yours, causing a chill to travel up your spine. Guilt began to consume you as you observed the pathetic state that she was in; even if you weren't directly responsible, it had been done in your name. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you were sure she had heard it nonetheless. "A group of rebels attacked the castle. They targeted the king and I. The king is dead, or he will be soon. I don’t have much time either.” She spoke with such certainty, but you wanted to remain hopeful.

She can’t die. You hoped for the best, even if just by looking at her, it was apparent her time was running out. "Was it…" you trailed off, letting the question hang in the air, deathly afraid of the answer. It came nonetheless. "Of course, it was." Your head hung in shame as she continued speaking. "Jungkook would do anything to be by your side, even if it meant risking his son's life." Soojin was seething. The glare she directed at you should have put you six feet underground. "I'm sorry, Soojin.” Soojin ignored your apology, preferring to close her eyes and lean back against the headboard. Her dry lips parted slightly as she let out a long sigh. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I let them kill you. Would I still have a husband? A family? Would I be happy bringing a child into the world?" Her eyes skimmed your left hand, noticing the missing ring. "Would I choose my own happiness even if it meant the loss of innocent life?" Her eyebrow arched slightly, the question was clearly rhetorical, but you longed to know what her answer would be. With tears in your eyes, you attempted to defend yourself. "I'm not happy, Soojin. I didn’t plan this. I don’t want any of this.”

"Do you think I wanted this? To lay dying while speaking to my husband's mistress. To lay dying while knowing the woman I despise will be a mother to my child? Do you think I wanted to fall in love with someone as cruel as him? The choice is an illusion." Both of you cried together, but neither gained any satisfaction from it. Soojin began to cough uncontrollably. You rushed to her side, trying to help her. Eventually, the coughs became bloody. "Irene! Guards! Anyone!" You screamed out, desperate for someone to come to her aid. "It's useless." Soojin heaved amid the fit, “He’s condemned me to die.” You wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. That Jungkook would never do such a thing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to her.

“Just promise me one thing.” Soojin spoke as she firmly clutched your arm. Her hands are as cold as ice. "Anything." As life slowly began to drain from her body, she whispered into your ear, "Don't let him become like his father."

 You entered the throne room, feeling as if you had just gone through death and barely gotten out alive. It was the most lavish room in the castle with intricate designs on the marble flooring, high ceilings, and beautifully dark murals adorning the walls. Nothing, however, compared to the throne: it stood several feet above the ground, requiring multiple stairs to reach it. Its color was an opulent opal with the Jeon's family animal, a black mamba, engraved to look as if it wrapped around the head. When you were younger, you had heard stories about how the throne was originally white, but when the Jeons took over, it began to change. The color tainting every time a Jeon spilled blood unnecessarily. At that moment, you swore the throne had never looked darker.

Jungkook sat upon the throne, a heavily jeweled crown resting on his head. His entire focus was on the newborn in his arm. He gazed lovingly at the small boy and even cooed at it. Jungkook was so entranced he didn’t notice you enter, for that you were thankful. It gave you the rare opportunity to observe him: the way he played with his son and the goofy grin adorning his face. How can someone who looks like that be capable of such horrible things? If you dwell on it for much longer, you might begin to cry again. Eventually, Jungkook glanced up, the smile he sent your way caused a strange feeling to sprout in your stomach. Perhaps you could've pretended that everything was fine, that he was entirely innocent of what Soojin had just accused him of. A man that smiled so lovingly wouldn’t be able to send his father and wife to the grave just for the sake of being with you; that would’ve been ridiculous. You would’ve believed that, if not for his next words.

“Look mommy’s here.” Jungkook readjusted the infant in his arms so that he could get a good look at you. Tentatively, you stepped forward. Beginning to climb the steep steps one by one, until you reached the penultimate one. The child was practically a carbon copy of Jungkook, except for his lips and the small mole under its eye. “He kinda looks like you." Jungkook commented, gazing at you in a way some might call loving. You nodded curtly, merely going along with whatever he said. You felt too numb to care about what the consequences of this might be.  

“What’s his name?” It was quite a lively baby, even if it was only a few hours old. Did he even let Soojin hold her child before taking it away? You already knew the answer to that one. "You're thinking quite a lot today." His dark eyes pierced into yours, a warning that you were treading on thin ice. Your gaze returned to the child, as you raised your hand to gently caress his cheek. This action made Jungkook smile until he focused on your hand. "Where the fuck is your ring?" It was said quietly, but you could sense the wrath behind the question. Any warmth or kindness he had exhibited was now gone. You visibly gulped, trying to come up with an answer that could appease him. "I didn't want to upset the king. It's back in my room." Jungkook had begun to shake with rage, and you begged him to stop. A motherly instinct took over, and you reached for the child, wanting to take it out of harm's way before Jungkook could hurt it. "Haven't you heard?!" His tone entirely sardonic, "The king has perished. So I am the king now.”

There was nothing but pure madness in his eyes. You had never feared him more than at that moment. Trying to step back resulted in you almost tumbling down the steps, if not for Jungkook grabbing you and pulling you tautly against him at the last second. "Why?" It was all that you could muster. Why had he killed his father? Why had he betrayed and murdered Soojin? Why had he called you to his chambers that night? Why hadn't he kept his promise and let you leave? "Why? Because I love you. That's why." A sob tore through your chest, and tears streamed endlessly down your face. It was when the child began to cry that you were reminded of why you had come in the first place. Jungkook returned his attention to his son, kissing his forehead gently. "His name is Hyunshik. Like your brother.”

As much as you feared and hated him, Jeon Jungkook knew how to play everyone around him like a string. You were no exception. As soon as he uttered your late brother's name, you knew you had lost. "Can I hold him?" Jungkook nodded before patting his thigh. Silently ordering you to sit on his lap. Once you were, he allowed you to carry Hyunshik, placing him carefully in your arms. If anyone had dared to enter the throne room, they would've been subjected to what would seem the picture of domesticity.

Jungkook's lips began to trail kisses along your neck as you focus your attention on the innocent being resting in your arms. His hands started to rub circles on your lower back as he licked a stripe up the shell of your ear before nibbling on it. "You, Hyunshik, and I will be a family now. A real family. I'll never let you guys go." Those words may have been the epitome of romance to the psychotic prince, but they only caused pure unadulterated terror in you. Still, you remained rooted in your seat, allowing him to keep kissing and groping you as much as he pleased. You would never escape his clutches, especially not now that he was king. Even if you had your doubts, your promise to a dead woman and the faint memory of your brother kept you rooted by his side for years to come. Even if it barely allowed you to withstand the suffering and horror that is Jeon Jungkook's love.

 “I love you, Y/n, my queen.”

[jinmindeulle]

crowned ∣ jwy (5)

whatever it takes

word count: 1.7k

genre: royalty au, prince!wooyoung x dressmaker!reader ∣ angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

a/n: if you want to be in the tag list so that you don’t miss the updates, just comment down below and i’ll happily add you! ♥

last part before the epilogue! enjoy!

Hours go by without me noticing. Crying consumes a lot of time, apparently.

The wedding ceremony was supposed to start at 6 p.m, so by now, Wooyoung and that lady should already be husband and wife, and must be heading out of the small church that the palace had in order to start the actual party in the building’s ballroom.

As I wait for it to be over, I let the last tears go down my face. I take a look at the room that has been my chamber for about three years, recalling beautiful memories and hard times spent there.

My eyes land on a picture hanging by the window, and I frown because I must have forgotten to pack it inside my cardboard boxes. I wipe away the last fallen tears and make my way towards it to unhook it so I can just shove it inside my backpack.

Well, maybe I shouldn’t have.

It’s my favorite picture. Wooyoung and I are grinning at the camera like a pair of kids, going out of the palace’s lake on an extremely hot summer evening. His — at that time — dark hair was soaked wet, visible drops falling from it. His suit was glued to his slender and perfect figure, because neither of us had wanted to get rid of our clothes, the only thing remaining in land being our shoes. I, on the other hand, had refused to leave the fresh water, and the only parts of my body that could be seen were my head and one of my hands making the peace sign. San had taken that picture, because he didn’t want to go inside due to his recently dyed hair.

I smile nostalgically at the photograph, slowly caressing Wooyoung’s bright smiley face. I had wanted to make sure that that joyful expression stayed where it belonged for a long time, but that turned out to be harder that I actually thought would be.

A knock on my door takes me out of my own thoughts. I quickly shove the picture inside my backpack while shouting ‘Coming!’ to the person behind the hatch, who’s highly likely to be San.

After running away from Wooyoung, he came by and helped me calm down, promising to pick me up as soon as possible the following morning. San had also whispered in my ear that he was going to go back and check up on me from time to time while the wedding party was still going on, just to make sure that I was not drowning in my own tears.

With the best I’m-doing-perfectly-fine expression on my features — the best that I could bring myself to do, really — I opened the door.

“I’m doing go-“

“I didn’t do it”

My mouth forms a perfectly shaped ‘o’, and I just remain like this until he grabs my face with his hands and repeats his life changing statement.

“I didn’t do it, y/n”

“What?” I mutter, too shocked to ask or say something better.

“I couldn’t do it, so I just didn’t. I didn’t get married, y/n.” Wooyoung whispers against my lips, his breathtaking smile making a comeback.

“Wha-”

And he does it again.

He kisses me like it’s our last one. However, this time, he’s tougher, hungrier, desperate. He takes my lips with his as if I was about to fade away in any minute, trying to take from me as much as possible because I can just slip away from his arms.

I am too astonished to reciprocate the kiss, but I know he knows it too. Wooyoung breaks apart, gasping for air, but still smiling wide, a smile that actually reaches his beautiful eyes.

“How- “

“That kiss” he mutters, looking me in the eye. “You kissed me and told me that you loved me.”

“Yes, but I- “

“You lied to me back in the cottage. You said you didn’t love me that way. But you do” he laughs, pecking my lips once more. “And you mean to me more than anything in this world, so I just said ‘Fuck it’ and ran away from there to be with you, just like we should.”

“Please don’t interrupt me this time” I say, my voice muffled as a consequence of his hands on my cheeks. I take them away with my own, intertwining our fingers so that we don’t lose contact. “I do love you, Wooyoung. Don’t!” I plead as he’s about to interfere again. “Listen to me.”

“Okay” he cutely responds, nodding, and I just want to melt right there. But the number of questions I have around my head prevent me from doing it.

“I love you, but you can’t abandon your people. You and I both know that they are actually waiting for you to become King, because you’ll do an outstanding job. This kingdom needs a worthy, kind, generous ruler, and there’s no one like you to do it. No offence, but your Father has a lot to learn from you.”

Wooyoung lightly laughs, without taking his eyes off of mine.

“I know you do want to be the King you’re supposed to. So please, don’t do this. Running away from here is not an option, Woo.” I beg, trying not to make evident my sadness through my voice.

“I must interrupt you there, lady” he begins, taking my hands to his lips and leaving a soft kiss in each knuckle. “Because I am going to be King. But you’ll be my Queen.”

I had always thought that, sometimes, Wooyoung forgets that he lives in a kingdom with actual rules, that forbids people from doing certain things and prevents them from ending up in jail. One of those rules regards marriage between two individuals from different social backgrounds — that is, if one of them is either part of the royalty or the nobility and the other is not — as a law-breaking action.

So, a dressmaker plus a Prince, equals error. The end.

“Wooyoung, you know that that can’t actually happen.” I murmur. The hurt in my eyes must be evident at this point.

“It can now.” He grins.

My mouth hangs open once again, looking at him with wide, doe eyes. “Care to explain?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do since I came in here!” Wooyoung whines, pouting like he usually did when he saw me getting started with the Oreos before meeting him. His grip tightens around my fingers, as he skillfully closes my door with one of his feet. “Let’s sit down”

We quickly move to my bed, hands still together and thighs making as much physical contact as possible. His thumbs start caressing the back of my fingers as he begins his awaited explanation.

“I left the church right before having to say yes, trying not to look back at the girl whose name I still don’t remember.” My surprise must be clear by now, because he cutely laughs and uses one of his hands to get a hold of my chin and lift it up a little bit so no bug is able to enter my mouth. “Father followed me and some guards did as well, but he dismissed them when he saw me standing a few meters away from the gates, actually waiting for him.

I choked out that I couldn’t do it, and that I was never going to get married to her. I made him, and — I hope — the rest of the world know, that I was in love with you and that I’d run away if it was the only way of being with you. Just as I was screaming those words, my mom reached us too. I took advantage, knowing that she actually understands me, and I told them that I would stay and keep doing my job as the Prince and future King only if I was able to marry you.

Father said that I was crazy, that we needed that marriage. That the kingdom was going downhills without it. But then, San appeared out of nowhere. He confessed that he had heard us behind my chamber’s door, and that he knew for a fact that we were actually what this kingdom needed. No allies, no exchanges. Just you and me.

After hearing that my best friend had my back, mom had mercy on us. She gave dad a talk about them hating each other so much because of their arranged marriage. I had always known they didn’t like each other, but not that they felt hatred. She said that she wanted me to be happy no matter what, and that if what took for me to be happy was you, then she wanted it as well. And I quote, ‘Whatever it takes to see my baby smile’”

I chuckle, letting happy tears go down my face. Finally.

“That was what made Father agree. He promised me that he will be passing a law that allows royals to marry whoever they want, no nobility title needed. I just have to commit with the kingdom more. He wants me to be a part of the Royal Advisory Board in exchange, so that I can be fully prepared when the time comes for me to be in his place.

Y/n, we can get married and I can still rule with y-”

This time, is me who decides that no more explanations are needed. I throw myself onto him, finding his smiling lips on the way and pinning him to the mattress. My hands find the way to his cheeks, trying to deepen the kiss as much as I am able to, because I want, I need to show him how much I have wanted this. Wooyoung laughs at my desperation, but he’s no better than I am, because I feel his hands on my hips, slowly travelling all the way to my ass.

“Jung Wooyoung!” I gasp, the smile never leaving my face.

“What? You’re about to be my wife, darling. You can just admit that you’ve been waiting for me to do that since day one.” He smirks, pecking my lips and laughing at my reddened cheeks.

“Well, fuck it. Yes, I’ve been waiting for you to do that and a lot more since the moment I saw you. And I don’t care what you think of me.” I admit, replicating that smirk of his.

“I don’t judge you, baby. Because I’ve been wishing for the same.”

We both let out happy chuckles, leaning in to keep on doing what we do best.

Loving each other.

epilogue: ladybugs and oreos →

Here’s the fifth and last part of crowned ♥ but don’t worry, we have the epilogue left!

I can’t believe that all of you actually loved it so much!!

If you are reading this, thank you so much for being here, it means a lot to me ♥ Leave your comments, suggestions and ideas on the comments below!

Happy reading!

⇢ jinmindeulle

@ncitydreamies​