#the title is perhaps not the most fitting but listening to king (which is what the title is from) on repeat inspired the fic

[piedoesnotequalpi]

Katherine with a sword

That's it that's the fic

[amoveablejake]

20230423

A title inspired by the king of easy going, Mac.

During the lockdowns that were present in 2020 and 2021 I found a little programme called ‘Joe Pera Talks With You’ and it quickly grew to mean the world to me. I have written about Mr Pera before and how that show was such a joy to watch and whilst it is over now, Mr Pera’s voice and very personal brand of comedy still occupies many of my thoughts. It has this space in my mind because of how much Joe Pera fits in with my ideas of hygge, being calm, present and gentle. Yesterday, I traveled up to the big city to watch Mr Pera perform and it was, it was something special. When I first saw that he was coming to the UK I was a little hesitant to book a ticket because I didn’t want to risk ruining the image of him that I have in my mind. It turns out, I needn’t have been hesitant for his stand up last night still revolved his soft spoken, gentle brand of very unique comedy. I wasn’t sure how funny Mr Pera’s standup was going to be, I thought it might be more like a discussion or a lecture more than anything like his programme but what it turned out was to be an absolutely hysterical set that was excellently thought out, which really it was always going to be. After the show, I was even fortunate enough to meet Joe Pera in what was one of the most nerve wracking experiences that comes to mind. Whilst he isn’t the biggest superstar in the world and many people may not know who he is, to me, he is the man and he has a very special place in my heart. Thankfully in the photograph of him and I together you can’t see me shaking with excitement and nerves only one hell of a big smile across my face. 

On the train back yesterday, my friend and I were discussing the key podcasts that we listen to and I surprised myself by saying that one of my top three podcasts is the Around the NFL Podcast. Now, I wasn’t surprised that I said it, I know it is one of my favourite podcasts, I mean obviously because I listen to it all the time. What surprised me was that the main reason that it was so far up my list was just because I like to listen to the hosts talk and yes, that perhaps shouldn’t be a surprise as that is why anyone listens to any podcast but in this case, it was a little different. Whilst I do greatly enjoy listening to the gang talk about the NFL, really, when it comes down to it, all I want is to listen to this band of friends talk. To be together and to be enjoying each others company. They could be talking about the Baltimore Ravens or which route they’re taking to get in, I will get as much enjoyment from both as their friendship is one of the greatest sources of comfort for me and I do turn to the podcast when I need to have that feeling of hygge and warmth. For quite some time I have been rather obsessed with American sports radio and the Around the NFL podcast feels like the pinnacle of that for me. Infact, if it wasn’t for the fact that if I had a podcast on as I wrote I would be typing out what the hosts were saying instead of my words I would have the team on now and you better believe I will once I have finished up writing. 

As this seems to be a piece that is focused around some sources of comfort and that hygge feeling that I am forever trying to obtain, I should perhaps mention ‘Ted Lasso’ here. The Richmond based football, although that descriptor should be used extremely lightly, is continuing to be one of the best shows around in my eyes and a wonderful source of comfort and joy. Saying that though, not every episode or all parts of an episode are happy go lucky and it isn’t afraid to take a look at some serious matters in a very delicately handled and considered way. It doesn’t hit you over the head with when it does examine those moments but instead gently holds your hand to walk through them. I am repeatedly surprised by just how wonderful it is and really, how special it is. Yesterday, again in the big city, I saw a man sitting outside of a restaurant with his dogs and on his head was an AFC Richmond cap. As I walked by, wearing my AFC Richmond sweatshirt, seeing him sitting in the sun, I felt a weird sense of camaraderie, a bit like when I was at Star Wars Celebration. At STar Wars Celebration it was because everyone was there to celebrate how these stories have impacted their lives and with the man in the AFC Richmond cap, I got the sense that if he had that cap on, he had to at least be an okay human and it was a nice fleeting moment of a temporary connection that we’ll never really know about but just a reminder that there are nice people out there, and people who also respond to the Diamond Dogs call. Because when it comes down to it, its not the world that is needed, it is those little moments on it that fill us with great comfort that we need to keep on feeling the world spinning beneath our feet. 

-Jake, a man who will now forever be wearing his Joe Pera tee, 23/04/2023

[cosmic--static]

mk after getting dumped back into the "listen to the amazing devil way to much each day" phase, i gotta finally share my interpretations(analysis maybe?) of The Horror and the Wild Album. i'm gonna line the song youtube in the title of each song so that you can listen to it if you haven't heard it!

It's a little wordvomit-ty so be warned, this is gonna be a long one.

everything's below the cut!

Overall, the whole album seems to be about relationships of some sort and feelings for others (not necessarily the romantic kind!). I've seen other people say it's about love n stuff like that too so.

The Rockrose and the Thistle

Starting off with the plants in the title!

Cistus, or as we know it here, Rock Rose, is known to have certain medicinal properties! It can help with healing small external cuts and also help uplift your mood. Also, Rock Rose is said to symbolize strength, most likely because of its hardiness.

In terms of its properties, Thistle is also pretty good for your health, including being good for the immune system and bone health. As for its meaning, Thistle also seems to represent strength and courage.

Something probably unrelated but interesting I noticed while looking for information on both plants is that they both can be found in Mediterranean countries

Right off the bat, there's no "music". To me, it sounds more like winds howling at the top of a cliff or something, which fits with the first few lyrics "When you call to me asleep // up the ragged cliffs I scramble".

"A single thread hangs limply down // and I breathe not now, not now // and I find you all unwoven // trying desperately to sew // and I know the kindest thing is to leave you alone"

This song sounds like the narrator has just found someone they love grieving. Whether they are grieving a loved one, or perhaps the loss of a piece of themself, they are grieving and it isn't pretty per se. They're falling apart and the narrator doesn't know how to give comfort to this person, or the person isn't receptive to it. Despite all that, the narrator will stick by this person's side "and you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop // 'Cause it's all that I have left"

Then, "I wake and hear you calling // and up those cliffs I climb // and I find you with a thimble weeping // May I, I ask, may I?" The narrator is now being let into the person's walls, the next lines have the person give the narrator the thimble " 'Cause you've no clue how to sew" to sew them back together.

The Rock Rose and Thistle both symbolize strength, endurance, loyalty, and such, this song, to me, is about that exactly. Grief and loss are terrible to try to get through, but it's easier if you have someone you trust to help pull you back together.

The Horror and the Wild

I am normal about this song(lie). I have always listened to this song and thought of it as becoming more than what was expected of you. Being better than the adults in your life as a child thought you to be. It's the coming back to old family members who belittled you for something or another and showing them how you were successful not because of them, but because of your own strengths. It's being better than the things people say behind your back. ANyway, to the actual song.

"They thought us blind (we were just blinking) // All the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold"

"Think of all the horrors that I // Promised you I'd bring // I promise you, they'll sing of every // Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child // witness me, old man, I am the Wild"

These parts feel a lot like the realization that those people didn't believe in you, and the anger towards them that they thought so little of you. "How bold I was, could be - will be -- still am, by god, still am" You were strong before, you are strong now. Everyone is strong and the fact that you can't stand up against people sometimes doesn't make you weak.

"Welcome to the storm, I am thunder // Welcome to my table, bring your hunger"

This is someone standing up for their younger self. This is someone saying that they are more than just their parent's child. This is the dinner scene from Arcane where Jinx shows that she isn't Powder anymore.

Wild Blue Yonder

The lyrics for this one are hard because they intertwine so often.

"Without you(you) I'm stronger(you told me I was younger) I'm no longer (that I was) // Filled with wonder // How wrong you were"

I love how this song sounds more like a conversation at times. We start off with what sounds like reminiscing on old selves/relationships/conversations. Almost like laughing at how absurd things seemed years later.

"Let's wander, till the fuckers demand an encore // Flirting (wasn't flirting) // At the back of a bookshop // Come and rip off my socks like you're blasting the locks off of a bank vault. // Halt! // This time we're done for"

It's hurried love, love that both partners know won't last but are having fun indulging in. Like a little summer fling or something. The song is upbeat and fun sounding but there is an air of melancholy. The Greek word for love, Ludus, fits perfectly. It's a playful love.

There are parts of the song that sound genuinely affectionate or have that "falling in love" feel, almost turning the overall feel into a falling in love with your summer fling and just wanting to have a good time now so you won't regret it later.

The overlapping and talking over each other adds to the sense of unfamiliarity, but there's enough flow to show that they aren't complete strangers

Welly Boots

Welly Boots! Basically, they're just rain boots from what I gathered (correct me if I'm wrong). The beginning of the song talks about an oncoming storm and someone who has lost their welly boots.

"What's it like, the children ask? // It's just like falling snow, I am above you, // And I love you, don't you know // That I'll be with you all along, as long as you are kind // To those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots"

I've always attributed this song to losing someone. Not necessarily loss as in death, but it could be a friendship that fell apart, the strained relationship between a once happy family. Any kind of loss.

"If only you could hear my voice // But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear // Just because I left doesn't mean that I'm not still there"

All of our relationships affect us in some way. The impact of a relationship doesn't go away just because that relationship is gone. Pieces of those people and those relationships stick with us.

"And when you scream I’m not alright // And throw my picture at the wall // ‘You were supposed to be my light // And keep me safe against them all // How could you leave me here' you’ll scream // And louder, I’ll scream back to you from that unknown // And say // I know you’re strong enough to do this on your own"

This is the part that makes me attribute this song to loss. When someone you are close to leaves you, things may feel hopeless. The screaming back from the unknown that you are strong helps some people keep moving. To get back up and move forward. Moving forward doesn't mean forgetting.

There's a time skip in the song and the person still misses the person they lost. They feel hopeless again but

"Just when you're about to give up every hope you have you turn around // Perches by the stairs, someone's gone and left behind // A brand new pair of scarlet welly boots"

Welly boots are lost in the beginning of the song, introducing the loss. But welly boots are lost or left behind at the end only to be found by someone else. I can't really decide if "you can help others that are experiencing loss to help heal" is actually what I get from that, but it's what I'm going with for now. It calls back to the beginning also with "as long as you are kind //To those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots".

I also love the beat drop after "Just because I left doesn't mean that I'm not still--" [Guitar and Drums kick in] "--there" Its completely unexpected when first listening to the song because it's so mellow and from the Rockrose and the Thistle we know the Amazing Devil isn't afraid to do a whole song that's mellow and practically a monologue.

Farewell Wanderlust

This song is filled with stuff about self-love, or the lack thereof. Self-loathing, bad anxiety, imposter syndrome.

"You don’t know it yet, but I’m the cupid of things // That you just didn’t get, that you struggled to say"

"Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the back // When you think about him, my wings start to flap // When you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floor // And when you lie there awake every night love, I soar"

Every time there's a mistake, they start to feel good about themself, they feel like they might fit in, there's a voice in the back of their mind that says they aren't good enough. This is a struggle with self-worth and trying to convince yourself you're good enough.

"Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kind // You brought me to this party but you left me here behind"

The wanderlust blocks out the anxiety, the self-loathing, and such, allowing you to do something without overthinking it, but when the high from wanderlust wears out, everything else creeps back in. Panic, anxiety. People ask the person if they're alright in the song, and at the first opportunity, they leave even if it might seem rude.

"I promise you I’m not broken // I promise you there’s more"

Welcome to the turning point of the song. The stomping down the anxiety, battling back against the hatred. This is saying I am more than this.

"Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light // Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night // This here isn’t makeup, it’s a porcelain tomb //This here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune"

I love the last few lines of that quote so much. I love the "I'm not singing, I'm screaming in tune" because it feels like it's saying this is my story, I am screaming out my feelings even if they don't fully make sense.

Fair

The way this song feels like a letter to a loved one pouring your feelings out because you can't articulate them. Because you struggle to be sure of yourself, but you're so sure of them.

"And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time // Oh darling please be mine"

Have you ever fallen in love with your best friend? Yeah. This song feels like that. The growing up together and not noticing when exactly it happens, but eventually realize that you could just, exist in their presence forever.

"Oh how oh how unreasonable // How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do"

Send this song to the best friend you're in love with challenge!

There are so many small lyrics that just scream best friends. The jokes, the being comfortable with each other.

"I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m stood here // Then I’m stood here // And I’ll stand here // I’ll stand here with you"

Back to just being able to exist in their presence. Yeah. This is Philla, the Greek word for love that involves friendship. Friends to Lovers type beat. This is staring at someone and smiling and deciding that this is the person you're going to love.

That Unwanted Animal

The stark contrast between this song and Fair is mind-blowing. Everything clues me into thinking that this is an unhealthy relationship, toxic love, and just generally obsessive love. The imagery is violent most of the time and the animal is fear-inducing.

"You try so loud to love me // But I cannot seem to hear."

It sounds like a relationship that no longer is love. As the song goes on, things get more and more negative, then "the creature creeps inside"

"The scratching grows so loud // Because that unwanted animal // Wants nothing more than to get out"

I would say that the creature, the animal, is the unspoken feelings of both the people in the relationship. It's clawing its way between them, things are unpleasant.

"Be good to me I beg of him ... // ... And he replies 'no no, not I'"

In short, the relationship isn't great. As the song progresses from the beginning, things get more and more negative, violent, and toxic.

Marbles

"I’ve held your hand since nineteen seventy nine, // You were in a band - still am - yeah but back then you had hair and your smile was so sublime // And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked"

This is an aging love. Growing old together but still loving each other and having fun. There's so much banter in this song, but so much affection. People changing together and poking fun at each other but still finding each other attractive. That's what makes this song beautiful. It's like hearing about someone's parents or grandparents who still very much love each other.

"The flat we rented was a palace for my queen // If by palace you mean that asbestos and beans from a tin, and the gin that we brewed in the bathtub // You sang ‘do you think I’m sexy’ And oh god I really did."

"And I'd sink to the floor, what’s the point anymore, // And you, you’d reply with a glint in your eye // (And you, you’d reply with a drink in your hand) // Saying ‘I don’t know, but I’m here, I’m all yours, dear heart don’t cry’"

We get playful, we get caring and loving. This song has it all. It's like reminiscing while sitting on your roof to watch the sunset. I love the familiarity of it.

Battle Cries

For our last song, I'm starting with a line from the middle of the song.

"This isn’t a break up dear heart, it’s a season finale."

It's a breakup song. Not in the typical sense of a "breakup song" where they're salty and stuff, but rather they've figured out that they're better just as friends.

There's so much these two people have gone through together, they're happy with each other, but not in the romantic sense. There's a lot of reassurance and uplifting in this song.

Along with the platonic love, I also see it as two people who have been through a lot, finding comfort in each other

"But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause"

[four-loose-screws]

Could you perhaps do a translation of Dimitri's solo ending? I've seen many claims that his ending was changed in English to reference that he improved foreign relations instead of minorities, but I have no way of confirming this.

I’ll start off directly with my translation and the localization side-by-side, but to anyone interested, please stick around and read my full notes! I describe the Japanese equivalent to the localization’s “improving foreign relations” in detail, as well as introduce the actual most common words and terms that mean “minorities” in Japanese. (Which, this already confirms that the short answer to OP’s question is: No, the Japanese does not reference minorities. While the English using “foreign relations” is not a direct translation, it is simply different wording from the Japanese.)

-

Japanese:

ディミトリは戴冠を受けて王位を継ぎ、生涯をフォドラの統治と改革に捧げた。(Dimitri was crowned, inherited the title of king, and devoted himself throughout his entire life to Fodlan’s ruling and reform.)

孤児の保護や異民族との関係改善に尽力する一方で、民の声に耳を傾け、彼らが政治に参加できる仕組みを導入。(He worked tirelessly to care for orphans, and improve relations with foreign nations; and also listened to the voices of the people, and established a system where they could participate in politics and the government.)

民のために、民と共に生きた彼を、人々は“救国王”と讃えたという。

He, who lived for the people and alongside them, was lauded by them as the “king who saved his nation from its suffering.”

Localization:

After his coronation, Dimitri spent his life reforming and ruling justly over Fodlan. He focused particularly on improving living situations for orphans and improving foreign relations. He was known for listening intently to the voices of all, and for instituting a new form of government in which the people were free to be active participants. He lived for his people and alongside them, and was thusly dubbed the Savior King.

-

The phrase specifically used in the Japanese for “foreign nations” is “異民族との関係” (iminzoku to no kankei). “との関係” translates pretty directly to “relations with.” But iminzoku deserves a little more attention than that.

Here’s a definition I pulled straight off a Google search, with my translation of it -

自分たちとは違う民族、違う範囲に住む、違う文化を培った民族

“A different people/race from one’s own. Peoples who live in a different area, and cultivate a different culture.”

As the jisho.org translation shows, minzoku can translate to a lot of different words, it really depends on the context.

The ‘i’ adds the nuance of different or foreign to the word.

I chose “foreign nations” in my translation of Dimitri’s ending above, because that seemed the most appropriate given the context of FE3H, with Fodlan’s lack of close relations with other nations being a frequently discussed plot detail throughout the game. But just as I said for minzoku above, iminzoku could translate to many different English terms like “foreign group, foreign people, foreign race, etc.” depending on context and what the translator best sees fit. They are pretty general words on their own.

To bring the explanation to a close, I’m going to explain - well then, if the Japanese wording doesn’t imply minorities in this ending of Dimitri’s, then what words or phrases do mean “minorities” in Japanese?

I’m going to be unoriginal and link the Japanese Wikipedia article for “minorities:” click here.

As a large scale social concept, the word for minorities is: 社会的少数者 (shakai teki shousuusha). Shakai means “society” and “social studies.” The word minorities itself is the 少数者 (shousuusha) part. Very super literally, it means something like “people of lesser numbers” - though please note that Japanese words are almost never the sum of their kanji parts, and don’t take that translation very directly. It just gets the point across that at its very basic meaning, a minority is a group of significantly smaller population compared to others within a whole. Japanese people will also use マイノリティ and マイノリティグループ, which are “minority” and “minority group” directly written in Japanese “letters.” Any concept / topic that garners a lot of news generally has its English word quickly adopted into Japanese.

So in both the wording that the Japanese did use (異民族との関係) and didn’t use (社会的少数者, 少数者, マイノリテ, etc.) it is clear that the Japanese does not reference minorities. While the English using “foreign relations” is not a super direct translation, it is simply slightly different wording from the Japanese.

[starksinthenorth]

Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite. 

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II), 

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself. 

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.

[fermented-writers-block]

Lus and the Human Portal Clone Theory

Even before Keeping Up A-fear-ances aired, I have been working for almost a year now on running through all the possible various suspects with wonderful folks like @sepublic​ , @anistarrose​ , and @elementalist-kdj​ . Like the post title indicates, from sheer process of elimination, the only conclusion that made sense to me was a clone made of Luz by the portal door, and I’ve been working on refining and reworking said conclusion up to the version I will lay out here.

Now, as @safetayy​ , @theowlhouseheadcanons , and @50shades-of-blue have heard from me before, the portal I've long suspected was not made to go from the Demon Realm to the Human Realm, but rather to go from the Human Realm to the Demon Realm by humans, for humans. This is because it then could tie into the hypothetical existence of a Luz clone without having the issue of asking where Eda, Lilith, and King's clones are, as the clone in this case is the result of a function of the door to create a basic level duplicate of any human that passes through it rather than it happening for just anyone that passes through.

With this, it's because the suitcase form of the portal looks as thought it indicates it was used for temporary trips to the Demon Realm, much like how suitcases were used when railways and international boats made travel more accessible for the middle and lower classes. For example:

Going by the way the door “faces” and the way it swings open, the ergonomics of the portal makes it look an awful lot like a right handed out swing door, with the Human Realm on the “inside” and the Demon Realm on the “outside.” And the arrow in the diagram depicts the general direction of traffic that such right handed, out swing doors are typically design with in mind - ergo, showing what way the portal appears to facilitate travel in.

Now, before you ask, the reason why I think the portal could have been created in the human realm in the first place is that it might require an extra component/bit of help or two from the Owl Deity which I’ve discussed before in the past as hinted by these connected designs:

I’ll explore how I feel the revelation that such a twist about the portal’s origins could play into the themes and narrative of the show under the cut, but overall, I feel these are potential significant details to keep in mind for the rest of this arc of building a new door and handling the idea of Lus having initially been made as a temporary-duration clone, hence how "Luz" comes off so uncannily in the letters as she wasn't meant for long term impersonations.

That, and why I named this the Human Portal Clone theory, for those wondering about the name.

Alongside this, my thought has been that walking back through the portal to the Human Realm basically makes the portal send a recall signal to tell the clone to return to it, where the clone would be reabsorbed into the portal and its memories are given to the original. However, with Luz going back into the Demon Realm for a brief time in YBOS, I am of the mind that it doesn’t just make another clone, but rather that doing so merely made the door turn off the recall signal and allowed "Lus" to resume the impersonation.

And as for the clone itself and why they’re writing letters to Camila, well, imagine it from Lus' perspective. To her at the time of creation, the last thing she probably knew was that she had been chasing the cute little owl that took her Azura book into the woods, and right when the bus to Reality Check Camp was about to arrive.

Also, if you think about it, Lus being the work of someone we/don’t know yet raises way more plot threads/questions than answers compared to being the work of the portal, as outlined below:

TLDR at end of post for those wondering

Belos? How and why before YBOS where he actually started paying attention to Luz for the first time and actually got his hands on a portal? 

Eda? Why would she do all this and not tell Luz she can goof around without needing to worry about her mom or the camp/in time to fool the camp, especially when it took a good amount of time for Eda to even start feeling that close to Luz? 

Hooty got ruled out from the getgo since he can’t hold pencils, King just isn’t that subtle, and everyone else that Luz knows has the major issues of just straight up not knowing about the camp in the first place. Well, that and a lack of another known method of getting to the Human Realm in the first place.

The camp? Why would they worry about a missing camper whose disappearance is all HER fault and thus would more logically result in a call to her parent than some convoluted clone conspiracy? 

And finally, some currently completely unknown third party?

If we’re talking a Changeling, A) it’d be easy for Luz to dismiss them and B) that just makes all the ominous portrayal of Lus super straightforward instead of a subversion like is the show’s shtick.

If we’re talking dimensional counterparts, A) they have to REALLY have led a very similar life to Luz’s in order for there to be enough common ground for Luz to listen, and B) dimensional counterparts aren’t even a confirmed or likely thing that people cooked up from Episode 1 side characters influenced by Amity’s concept art.

And if we’re talking some complete surprise third party group or another, it doesn’t make sense to introduce a third party and their motives and plans to the show this late in when Belos is already taking up the bulk of it all.

Hell, if anything, the continued existence of the duplicate in of itself would indicate that the target of the conspiracy is none other than Camila Noceda than anything to do with Luz or Eda, especially with the complete lack of anyone taking advantage of Luz and or Eda. 

From the getgo, Witches Before Wizards already hard-baked into the show the idea that Luz is NOT inherently special or anything into the foundations of the show from the getgo - ergo, Camila likely just is an absolutely regular human being, someone who has no justification for such a convoluted conspiracy to surround them.

That said, I believe that the idea of the portal having originated from the Human Realm could potentially play into some interesting stories to be had with Camila and Lus here, especially as the conspiracy board shot from the promo was confirmed by Dana to apparently be from S2A, not from the episodes past Yesterday’s Lie:

After all, with Luz searching the library for a way home this coming episodes, perhaps she might figure out something the next couple of episodes that allows her texts to send through, which would logically lead to the above picture. That, and Camila and Lus being confused by and trying to figure out what’s going on there.

I mean, the cabin in the woods likely has a very close connection to the portal and it’s origins given how closely tied the two structures seem to be, and as far as we can tell, Luz never mentioned the cabin in her videos to Camila, but if Lus tries to retrace her steps, that would be a natural vector to lead Camila to the cabin and thus allow us a chance to actually investigate it.

That said, all following the trail would do is lead her and Lus to a dead end at the abandoned cabin, where they would have nothing else to do except discuss their complicated relationship concerning Luz and twiddle their thumbs while waiting for Luz to finish things on her end - which while something I think would be interesting to see, I just don’t see how much of a way to keep them in the greater picture of the show without some kind of project or activity that the two of them could work together on on screen. 

And that’s what leads me to a particular train of thought here, starting with the question of what if Luz FAILS to make a working portal over the course of S2A and such?

With the possible in-universe mystery over what the heck is going on with Lus, perhaps the cabin might hold some notes from the original last human owner - if not potentially the creator - of Eda’s portal as well as potentially some of the same materials and such from previous trips.

Cue CAMILA building a working portal, following in the footsteps of the original creator and such and thus finding a reason to stay on screen, all the while potentially demonstrating both why Belos wanted the portal instead of making his own, as well as diving into the Owl Deity’s connection with the original portal. Heck, maybe the Owl Deity is only accessible in the Human Realm and that plays a part in Belos wanting to get to the Human Realm, which would bring Camila directly into contact with the magic her daughter has been interacting with.

Also, just imagine the internal conflict going on here with Lus. After all, helping Camila build a portal to get the original Luz -and hoo boy would that be a tough thing to grapple with- would most definitely do that and make both Lus AND Camila question how much the latter likes Lus vs Luz.

Like, just imagine it. There would be major chances for Lus and Camila to discuss what would happen if and when they’re finished with the portal, and what will happen to Lus’ relationship with Camila if and when Luz gets back.

Does Camila really prefer her daughter to be all more “normal” like Lus, or does she prefer the old, “weird” daughter from before the summer with Luz?

Perhaps she might be able to figure out how to strike a nuanced balance between the two, and all on a metaphorical journey to truly build a better connection between her and her daughter(s?). 

TLDR: Or in short, I can’t help but feel it would be fitting to see Camila building a bridge WITH Lus TO Luz. 

Particularly, by being the one to craft an actual working portal in the Human Realm instead of Luz in the Demon Realm, showing a parent putting in an active effort to get down to their child’s level rather than waiting for said child to try to get up to their parent’s level even if they can’t or find it incredibly hard to do so.

[punkpoemprose]

A Convenient Arrangement Part 9

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating: T Length: 6514 Words A/N: It’s been a while, I probably still won’t be updating regularly because I’m busy, but here’s something for now. P.S. asks & comments are very much appreciated, nice comments make me feel like writing every time I get them, but please don’t ask when I’m going to update. I don’t have answers for you.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Kristoff felt uncomfortable to say the least. He was standing still while a stranger and his party of assistants measured him, held fabrics up toward him, and made comments on his physique both complimentary and, well, he couldn’t really say that the rest were meant to be kind. He wasn’t used to people who said things but didn’t say them straight, and while he was sure that “it’s like dressing a bull” wasn’t meant to be directly insulting, it also wasn’t quite a compliment either. He’d never been particularly ashamed of the way he looked, but he was being made certain from the commentary that he wasn’t built for whatever the “fashionable” silhouette was.

He wanted to walk away, to say that he’d wear his own clothes and to tell them exactly where they could shove their measuring tapes. He hadn’t exactly expected a “professional tailoring” to be a fun experience by any stretch of the imagination, but he also wasn’t prepared to be someone’s dressing doll. They hadn’t asked him his opinion on anything, and he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing, or whether it meant they were going to dress him like some kind of dandy who’d never spent a day of his life working.

“The yellow silk?”

He closed his eyes, just so he didn’t have to see whatever they were up to. Whatever it was involved tassels.

He could only distract himself by thinking of something else, by going inside himself and putting his mind to use imagining himself somewhere, anywhere else. He wondered how often he’d need to do such a thing, now that he was prince consort to the crown princess of Arendelle and soon to be some sort of aristocrat given lands and titles to justify his marriage. He couldn’t help but wish that he could just go back to the mountain and be away from all the new responsibilities his marriage to Anna had foisted upon him.

He had no objections to his duties to her, but to the court and the country, was another point entirely. He liked to think of himself as a good citizen of Arendelle. He paid his taxes, he worked hard, he tried his best to help his fellow man where and when he could, but he wasn’t built for pomp and circumstance. He wasn’t even built for suit fittings.

He let his thoughts drift away from the room, pushing all worries of brocade and buttons out of his mind, and landing himself back into memories of the early morning and being in bed with Anna. It was the easiest to imagine, the quickest way to relax.

He remembered waking up at first light with the gentle pressure of her body against his, the sheets tangled around them from their turning and shifting in the night. She’d fallen asleep on his chest, and when he woke, he’d been holding her there. Her hair had been partially in his face, fanned out across his chest and over his arm. While she had still been asleep, he’d carefully brushed it away from his face. While smoothing it under his hand, his heart raced over the intimacy of the action and the fear that she might wake up and tell him to stop.

He didn’t think that she would have asked him to, not when she so often was the one touching him first, reaching out for his hand, but after their conversation the night before he was worried. She didn’t trust him completely despite the strides they’d made, and despite the fact that she’d apparently vouched for him with her sister. He couldn’t blame her really, especially not after hearing all the ways in which her trust had been broken in the past.

Give her time. Give her love.

He could imagine his mother giving him the advice. He was far from a love expert himself and his family was a bit overzealous in their love and support, but he thought that maybe taking their advice and running it through his filter first might produce a kind of logic. Imagining what his mother might say about how he should treat his wife was probably a good place to start.

He’d give Anna all the time she needed. This was new for them both, but he was already believing that she might be his other half, that fate brought them together as mad as it sounded. So he knew that she was worth the wait. He already saw the little ways he was falling in love with her.

After he’d moved her hair, he’d enjoyed resting with her in his arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed with him. He’d felt her rouse, but didn’t say a word. He’d known that once they left bed, he was unlikely to see her for the rest of the day. Kai had him scheduled for several meetings and lessons and tours, and Anna, regardless of the promise made to them of no joint duties for a week, certainly had responsibilities of her own to attend to. He still didn’t know what they were, but he knew she must have some. Someday he would too.

He missed her already. He missed the rightness he felt while holding her close. He missed the way that she made him feel almost comfortable in the palace walls even while he was under the scrutiny of those who didn’t think he belonged.

He didn’t belong, of course. Being her husband gave him a reason to live in the castle, it gave him station, but it didn’t make him belong. Standing where he was now, walking through the hallways to get to the room without her by his side, constantly needing to check the little map she’d drawn for him, had made that abundantly clear. He wished he had it in him to announce to the room, to everyone who looked at him sideways, that he hadn’t asked for this, and that they could trade places with him if they preferred, but he couldn’t say it.

He couldn’t even offer a single breath to the idea that it would be anyone else at Anna’s side.

He may not be royal by anything but marriage but holding her made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be.

He’d held onto her as long as he could in bed, not telling her that he was awake even though he knew that she was.  He remembered her snort-laugh when he’d told her that he’d pretended to be asleep this time. He hadn’t said that he’d do it again to just hold her a little longer.

He remembered the way she’d nuzzled her face into his chest and murmured about breakfast without making any moves to leave him for a long while. They may have never moved, but of course a knock had eventually come, summoning them both from bed. They’d broken their fast together in relative quiet, the silence only broken by the sounds of silverware clinking, and he’d felt like he’d wanted to say something, catching her staring at him every now and then, but he didn’t have the words to say what he was feeling. He still wasn’t sure of what it was he had been feeling.

Domesticity? Comfort? Love?

None of the words fit. Not yet at least, though he’d like for them to be the right words someday.

Another knock had come and interrupted the quiet meal, and with the quick scurrying and whispering of an anxious looking maid, Anna had excused herself from the table. She’d given him a look that he registered as a sort of longing, he only knew it as such because she gave the same look to her bacon, and then she was gone.

A knock came again, this time in the present, pulling him from his recent memories abruptly.

“My Lord?”

It was Kai, and in a short a time as Kristoff had known the man, he had never been so grateful for his appearance as he was now. Which was saying something given he and Anna were thus far the only people who didn’t make him feel like a complete outsider.

He met the man’s eye and, reminded by his presence that he needed to at least feign manners, only gave him a somewhat subtle look of “save me”.

Blessedly Kai obliged.

“His lordship is needed elsewhere. Please collect your things so that we might have the room to discuss his next appointment for the day.”

The older man turned toward the tailor and his staff and with a look that clearly said “now” sent them all scrambling to pick up fabrics and tapes and bits of paper. When they dispersed, the heavy oak door closing behind them with a thud, Kristoff let his shoulders slump. The sigh that he let out was unintended, but hardly unwarranted.

He took a deep breath that was his first in what felt like hours.

“A bit much, weren’t they sir?”

Kristoff examined the old man, gazing at the scowl of distaste on his face, directed at the door. He knew that his status as his valet was a temporary one, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was exactly the sort of person he’d like in his corner in the long term.

“That’s an understatement.”

Kai gave a bit of a wry smile before recomposing himself and appearing more regretful than amused.

“His father was the royal tailor to the King, a very noble and understated older gentleman who listened more than he spoke. He made the most excellent suits.”

He looked down at his own jacket for a moment, adjusting the sleeve as if he were recalling a garment from an earlier time and in doing so, found his current attire not quite up to snuff. Kristoff had felt similarly in his wedding clothes, recalling the way he could only compare them to his more comfortable daily wear.

“The Queen and Princess have a dressmaker in their employ who is similarly talented and reserved,” Kai continued, bringing his attention back to Kristoff and meeting his eye with another apologetic gaze, “Unfortunately, on such short notice we relied on the assumption that the young tailor would be like his father in manner, which is clearly not the case. I apologize. Perhaps we can find someone else, but given the short notice…”

He knew that Kai was implying that they were out of options unless he had a better one. It felt strangely like a test in ways Kristoff couldn’t quite put his finger on, almost as if Kai were trying to determine something about him from the uncomfortable situation.

Kristoff didn’t take more than a moment of thought before interrupting, “There’s a tailor in the market I usually buy from, he does good work. He has my measurements already. His wife is pregnant, he could use the money.”

Kristoff didn’t expect Kai to grin. He was already mentally admonishing himself for interrupting, but the balding old gentleman simply nodded.

Whatever the test had been, he’d passed.

Maybe royals are meant to be contrary. I’ve always been good at that.

“Nilsson. I don’t know his first name. He’s got a market stall but does almost all the work out of his house by the docks. He’s got a slate out front, pretty easy to find if you’re looking for it.”

Kai pulled a paper and pencil from somewhere on his person and against his palm, quickly jotted the notes. Kristoff wondered if that level of efficiently was born or made. He’d always been proud of his own ever evolving competence in his work, but he never thought that he’d be ready for anything in the way Kai seemed to be.

“I’ll see that he is made aware of your lordship’s request and that he understands the quality required. Are there any specific requests you have for fabric or color?”

Kristoff looked from the man to the door and back again.

“No yellow silk.”

***

Anna wasn’t wholly certain as to why she was feeling so nervous. She’d sent Kai after Kristoff only a few minutes before, evidently interrupting his whole schedule though he hadn’t said anything about it. Anna just knew the man well enough that when she saw him pull a pencil and a folded paper from his pocket that he was rearranging a schedule. She remembered him crossing off sections of the page like he had for her father before.

No matter how much everything changes, some things stay the same.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he was enjoying assisting Kristoff. Soon enough he’d be Elsa’s personal counsel again, but Anna liked to think that he was enjoying the sort of daily trials and tribulations that were coming with helping her husband.

She’d been too high strung after her meeting with Elsa to be much use in focusing on anything let alone tracking someone down, but now it was at least a little bit relaxing to move her thoughts people instead of the stress of upcoming responsibilities.

When Elsa had sent a maid to fetch her in the middle of breakfast she had, of course, been up for hours and as such had already eaten. Anna suspected that her sister never actually slept and that it was the answer for why she was always up and ready for the day at the crack of dawn.

She hadn’t been more than half awake when she was taken from her bacon and from Kristoff’s quiet company. She’d been promised a week by her sister, one week of no duties, but that wasn’t exactly true. It had been more like one week with no scheduled duties, just meetings when the occasion arose, as it had in the middle of breakfast.

“Anna,” her sister had said, looking a bit tired which reminded Anna that her sister was indeed human after all, “I’m planning a party.”

That had been all that was required to shock Anna into full consciousness.

She may as well be running off to join the circus for how like her that is.

“You didn’t get an engagement party and we want the citizens to be able to celebrate the wedding, so the council requested that I announce a festival in your honors.”

That had made more sense, but now, standing alone in the library, trying to distract herself by staring at the shelves upon shelves of books before her, she wondered why exactly a party was needed at all. She appreciated her sister’s interest in her input about the colors and the food and the events, and she knew that it was meant to be an apology of sorts for the fact that she’d had no control over her wedding, but Anna also wasn’t ready for another big event.

She’d only promised Kristoff a week without duties, and they were now getting a full month. Somehow it didn’t seem to be a balm in her mind. She hated the idea that they would soon need to be a public spectacle, that they would be watched and commented on. She hated the thought of watching Kristoff shrink away like he had in the kitchens, that he might think again that he didn’t belong when all she wanted was for him to feel right when he was at her side.

She could hear the talk of the town in her ear, not truly there, but just as real in her head as if there was some chatty merchant’s daughter at her back.

They had to steal him from the mountains to marry her, who wants used goods?

To her right she could hear her giggling friend.

So sad, isn’t it? Poor man.

To her left, not in her imagination, but in reality, was a cold and empty hearth with a settee between her and it. Her hands shook at her sides as she tried to focus on anything but the creeping sensation of frost in her chest that she knew was only in her head.

Why did I choose the library? Of all places, why did I decide to tell him about the festival in the library.

She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and breathed.

The girls slipped away, the empty fireplace remained out of sight, but as she focused on her inhalation the icy sensation left. She smelled parchment and dust, felt the warmth of light streaming in from the nearby window, and let herself remember years of pulling books from the shelves written in various languages and staring at pictures before she could read them herself. The memories of her youngest days came clearer now that she was free to recall them.

I loved it here once.

She felt him enter her space.

Despite the bulk of him she hadn’t heard him approach, but she could feel the tension in her body release when he surreptitiously slid into the space at her left side, putting more space between her and the fireplace, bumping his hand into hers casually.

She experimentally opened her palm, slowly uncurling her fingers, and felt the last of the unease roll out of her muscles when he slipped his hand over hers, palm to palm. He wasn’t holding her hand, his fingers barely brushing hers, but she found it comforting.

She could hardly call herself knowledgeable about affection, but she was learning that this was Kristoff’s way of showing it. They hadn’t said anything about love. It didn’t make sense to yet, they were intimate strangers, they were a paradox, but where he couldn’t say love he showed it.

She wondered when she’d be able to show him in return. It had been so easy to pretend the night before. She wanted to be able to open up to him more, but every time she wanted to the what ifs got in the way.

You need to stop doubting yourself.

But a lack of self-doubt, her reckless willingness to believe in the best of people and that she deserved a happy ending had almost ruined everything once. She was afraid it risk it again.

“Want me to come back in a bit?”

His voice was low, soft. He could already read her so well, but he was still working out how to react to her feelings. She wondered how he could be so understanding of her needs after spending so many years alone. She had a hard enough time understanding how she felt lately let alone comprehending how others did. Even as empathetic as she was, she felt like she was always missing the cues that he was seemingly catching without a second glance.

She slipped her fingers between his, moving slowly and focusing on the secure feeling it gave her to have his hand locked against hers by the connection.

“No, I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

She opened her eyes and saw the concern in his gaze when she met his eye. It made her feel simultaneously guilty and vindicated, like his understanding that there was something wrong justified her feelings. She did feel bad for making him worry about her though. She didn’t want him to go anywhere just because she was battling with herself.

After a few moments of quiet, he spoke, “Kai filled me in on the way over. A festival?”

She sighed and nodded, glad that she wasn’t the first to tell him about it. She wasn’t sure that she’d be able to express the positives about such a thing when she was already so focused on the negatives.

He didn’t look particularly upset about the event, which surprised her. She recalled how he’d been in front of the crowd at their wedding, stiff and uncomfortable. She didn’t really want to put him in that situation again, but he didn’t seem to share the same opinion.

“Yes.  There was a council decision that we should do something for the people at large because most of them couldn’t attend the wedding. They’re curious about us.”

Kristoff nodded. He seemed relaxed and at least accepting if not a bit interested about the matter.

“It makes sense. It’s been a long time since there’s been a real festival. Most times someone will put on something for the holidays, but the big festivals haven’t gone on in years. I can only just barely remember what they were like when I was a kid.”

That’s because they died with my parents.

It felt strange to think of it, that there hadn’t been festivals in years. Even before her parents had passed away, the events had been a shadow of what they were when she was young. She wished she had a better memory of them now, how the festivals used to be, how her parents used to greet the people and dance. It was mostly a blank, interjected with what she’d been told about sweets and dancing and music by others. She supposed it was normal to not remember much from her toddler years, but she longed to know what it would be like, if only to know what to be prepared for.

Kristoff would remember a little more than she would, but he wasn’t that much older than her really. She wondered if the trolls had their own festivals and celebrations and whether he’d tell her about them if she asked.

It was still strange for her to think about sometimes. That her husband was raised by the very trolls that had locked away her memories, that under different circumstances they may have met as children and that it could have changed everything if she had.

She didn’t know what it would have done in the long run. She didn’t know if they’d have been happier if their stories had played out differently, but as he held her hand, she knew that she wouldn’t want to turn back the clock even if she could. As messed up as everything was, she wasn’t alone, and his willingness to stand there with her, to try for her, was more than she’d ever had with anyone.

“Is it what you want?” he asked, seeming to take her dour expression as an indication that she didn’t want the party.

All I wanted for years was a celebration, people, music, and dancing. I wanted any of it. I wanted all of it.

“I… they didn’t ask…”

She shook her head for a moment, then looked at him apologetically, squeezing his hand a bit when she saw the furrow of his brow and the downturn of his mouth. She felt like she shouldn’t be worrying him, but she also liked that he seemed concerned. It was nice to know that someone cared whether she wanted something instead of just assuming.

“What I mean to say is, it doesn’t really matter if I want it or not, but I think I do. My sister was really excited to give us this because our wedding wasn’t…” she trailed off, knowing that he understood.

“She wants it to be a big thing for us even though she doesn’t even like big events. It’s sweet and I think it will really improve public perception of the crown, but I just don’t want it to be overwhelming for you. I imagine there will be a lot of eyes on us.”

His expression softened then. There was an understanding in his eyes and something else there that made her feel warm.

“As long as I don’t have to wear a suit like they crammed me in at the wedding I’ll be fine. Let them look, my eyes will be on you.”

She felt herself flushing bright red, and she was certain she was outshining her hair.

He said things like that in such a matter-of-fact tone that it was proving to consistently catch her off guard. There was no art to the way he said the words, no intent to woo or win her over. It was just the truth in his mind. She’d have his attention, even if all eyes were on him.

She needed to change the subject, averting her gaze from the intensity with which he was meeting her eye. She wondered if being with him would always be like this, butterflies in her stomach and the sensation of being wanted overwhelming her thoughts and senses. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be happy again if it was just temporary, a “honeymoon phase”, but there was a small hopeful part of her that said that as they got to know each other his affections wouldn’t wane or remain stagnant but instead that they would grow.

How wonderful it would be to be loved. How wonderful it would be to love.

She’d never felt anything so gratifying as being at his side, knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere.

She was trying to tame her flush with a deep inhalation and exhalation, feeling his eyes on her and imagining the smile on his face that she couldn’t bring herself to look at.

“So, how was your meeting with the tailor?”

He made a pained sound, almost like a man dying.

She, for her part, let out a snort, sending them both into laughter.

It felt good to laugh in the room. It was like they were sweeping the cold from the corners.

I could love it here again.

***

Somewhere in the back of his mind Kristoff knew that he was entirely throwing off Kai’s plans for the day. The suit fitting had been just the first in a long list of tasks that had been set for the day. He was supposed to learn about peerage and how to greet royals, and about a thousand other bits and pieces of manners that Kai had decided he needed to learn as soon as possible.

Kristoff appreciated his assistance, and he did feel vaguely guilty for requesting the help and then being unavailable to actually receive it, but how could he go learn about salad forks and posture when Anna was pouring him a cup of tea and asking him excitedly what he remembered about festivals when he was young.

“I was so little when they stopped. I know now that we did need to close the gates for Elsa, but I just feel like we missed out on so much and that the people would have understood if they were just told… I mean…”

He listened intently to the way she described childhood years in the castle, not knowing why the gates were closed and not knowing why her sister never wanted to see her. It made him sad to think about when he’d never felt pushed away by his own family.

“So, do you remember what the food was like? I know you were only eight, but was there chocolates?”

He smiled, unable to help himself when she was so ecstatic about the possibility of him recalling anything at all about the only festival he remembered before the castle gates closed. It had been the summer solstice festival, before he ran away from the orphanage. He recalled it somewhat if only because it was one of the few bright spots he’d had before meeting Sven and then the trolls.

“I think there was. There were a lot of little cakes and things. We each got to have one and then we got to play a game, but I don’t remember what it was. Something with stones and chalk lines. I mostly remember watching the women dance. They had these bright ribbons in their hair and they were skipping around the maypole so everything was just fluttering and colorful. I kept wondering if one of them was my mom, and if maybe I stood close enough to the front of the crowd…”

He trailed off, then started again, “Anyway, I think some of the cakes had chocolate in them but mine didn’t. Mine had custard and I think it was the first time I had it because I remember being surprised by it.”

She had been writing down little things here and there in pretty script on a piece of paper. The things she wanted for the festival, the things he mentioned. He noticed that she’d stopped though.

“You were looking for your mom?”

He sighed, kicking himself a bit for bringing it up as he described the memory. He shouldn’t have said anything about it.

“I didn’t know what had happened back then… so I just assumed she lived in Arendelle and had misplaced me and that once she saw me she’d take me from the orphanage and I’d live with her. I didn’t even know what she looked like… I still don’t.”

He felt the silence grow around them, an uneasy sort of taunt energy that he hadn’t experienced since their wedding night, when she’d assumed and he’d not been sure what to say.

There’s going to be more of this. It’s not going to be easy all the time.

“You can ask.”

He looked at her then, saw the way her eyes were on the floor, anywhere but on him. He understood in a way. It was awkward to ask. Few people ever had except when he’d been very young. The answer had to be sad. Court order or death or abandonment were the popular choices, otherwise. There was never another reason for a child to be without his mother.

“What happened to her?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t have all the details. I thought for a long time that I’d just gotten lost or something, but not too long after the festival I found out that she had died in childbirth. That was the day I left the orphanage. She was Sami. I guess my dad was from Arendelle, a harvester who died not long before I was born. He didn’t have any family, hers was too far away to contact or find I suppose. It doesn’t matter now anyway; I had a good childhood.”

Anna was quiet at his side. She was looking down at her hands now, they were folded in her lap awkwardly and really he wanted to reach out and hold them.

What’s stopping you?

He moved slowly, slipping a hand into her line of sight before covering her hands with it. Normally he waited for her to make the first move anytime they touched, but he was realizing that she was the sort of person who liked physical contact when she was upset or nervous, and he could provide that for her. He’d gladly give her all the gentle touches in the world if it meant she’d feel safe.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “losing your parents is hard.”

She would know.

He pressed against her hands gently and when she responded by turning her hand and lacing her fingers through his, he felt her relax a bit.

“I didn’t really know them. I was in the orphanage from the time I was born until I was eight. I started working with the harvesters for a while and then I found my family. You know I found them by following you, right?”

He couldn’t remember if he’d already told her that. If she knew that she was the reason he’d found his family.

“I know that the idea that all of this was destined to happen is kind of… strange to wrap your head around if you weren’t raised the way I was,” he said, “but it brings me some comfort to know that even the bad things that have happened might have some good come from them in the end.”

She was quiet for a little while, but when she squeezed his hand he understood that it meant she was okay.

“Did the trolls have festivals,” she asked after a little while.

He grinned.

“About a thousand.”

***

He described it all to her in vivid detail. She’d never heard Kristoff really tell a story before, but when he described the ceremonies and events that the trolls had every year, celebrating the seasons and weddings and births, it was magical. She could imagine herself there, watching it all.

“And when you turn eighteen… or well it was eighteen for me because humans have a shorter lifespan, but anyway, when you come of age there’s a big birthday party for you. Normally birthdays aren’t a big deal because the trolls have thousands of them, but this one is.”

She nodded, rapt with attention, her tea going cold along with his on the side table.

“So my parents both presented me to the family, like they had when they adopted me. You would have laughed if you saw how they dressed me, I had a cape made out of moss and a crown of twigs because that’s the tradition and let me tell you it looks better on the trolls than it did on me. But then everyone came forward and said something about me, even the kids and Sven which is exactly as comical as you’re probably imagining it in your head.”

“What sort of things did they say?”

She didn’t mean to interrupt, but she was genuinely curious.

He smiled and shook his head, looking a bit bashful, “The sort of stuff they show you every day, but don’t say out loud.”

She thought she could imagine.

I’ve been thinking that you’re kind since I met you, but I don’t say it.

I’ve been trying to show you I care about you, but the words don’t come.

“Then everyone sits together in a giant circle and eats dinner. My mother sang a song with my sisters and aunts and… well, someday when you’re comfortable, you’ll have to hear them sing. I know I’m biased, but it’s beautiful.”

Anna couldn’t help but feel a little wistful at the idea of it. She’d loved music as a child. She remembered fondly the days she and her mother would sit in front of the fire and sing folksongs together. She remembered the days her father’s tenor would add to the mix and even more far off, she could recall her sister’s voice mingling in the sound as well.

She wondered if maybe she’d sing to her own children someday, and then with a flush, wondered what her husband sounded like when he sang.

“I’d like that… then what happened?”

He laughed warmly at her enthusiasm.

“Then they gave me my crystals. I earned some when I was young… you earn them as you learn and grow, they’re…” he trailed off for a moment, thinking.

“They’re connected to the magic in the world. It probably sounds strange, but given what Elsa can do I’m sure you can understand. It’s strange, but the trolls can feel the magic all around them, it’s in their blood, and the crystals can help them in feeling it more strongly and in shaping it. I don’t have that connection, but the crystals are part of the culture so they gave them to me. Sometimes when I’m lucky and the energy is there I can get them to react the way they should. The trolls can use them to start fires and change the direction of streams and… it’s amazing. Mostly I can just get them to glow sometimes.”

Anna felt a small thrill in the pit of her stomach that she wasn’t sure whether she should tamp down or not.

Because she’d seen his crystals. She’d touched them because he’d given her license to snoop through his things. She had still felt a little bad about the snooping though. She wondered if he’d be annoyed if she mentioned it.

She tried to read him. His body was relaxed at her side, his smile soft and his brown eyes were gazing upon her face with a warmth that made her feel like they’d known each other for months or years instead of a week.

It’s worth the risk. It’s worth it to open up to him. Has he hurt you for trying yet?

“I made the pink one glow,” she blurted, unable to help herself.

His brow furrowed, then he looked thoughtful.

“I’m sorry,” she added, not sure how to take his reaction, “I probably shouldn’t have snooped, but when we were at your cabin you told me I could look at your things while you were gone and I thought they were pretty and…”

She didn’t have anything else to say for herself. She held her breath, hoping that he wasn’t upset with her, hoping that at any moment he’d be amused by the fact that she was able to get one to glow without even knowing about them or their meaning.

“Pink?”

He asked it so quietly she almost didn’t realize he was asking her a question.

“Pink,” she answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice as she said it.

The confusion left his face, and when he met her eye again there was an intensity there that Anna couldn’t understand. His eyes held her gaze for a moment, before quickly, almost so rapidly that she wouldn’t have noticed, shifting to her lips and back again.

She hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten on the settee, but now with him leaning even further into her space, she could feel his breath, she could see the stubble barely peeking up on his cheek, she could see him lick his lips.

She swallowed, then parted her own.

It would be so simple.

She’d only have to lean forward, just a little.

She could feel her heart racing in her chest. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and then she felt him draw closer.

This is it.

She remembered the kiss they’d shared at their wedding, she remembered how it felt when he’d pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Those had been chaste, one necessary for ceremony, the other to soothe, but a kiss now… it would mean something.

She tried not to feel disappointed when it never came, when instead his hand slipped from hers and went to her waist, when his forehead tipped against hers.

It’s too soon.

He wants to, but it’s too soon.

She tried to understand. Logically she knew it was true, and even the pain she’d suffered from another almost kiss in this place couldn’t challenge the warmth of his touch and the gentle way he spoke next.

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”

She felt an ache in her chest, almost as pleasant as it was new.

It means something.

She’d almost known it when she’d touched the gem, but now the confirmation in his words, the weight to them and the intimacy of their foreheads together, left her no room for doubt.

He pulled her into an embrace, their foreheads parting but his arms wrapping around her comfortingly, leaving her head to rest against his shoulder.

She almost opened her mouth to ask him what it meant, but then she closed it, letting herself have this moment with him.

I trust him.

He’ll tell me in his own time.

[retrievablememories]

somewhere only we know | doyoung (m)

title: somewhere only we know pairing: elf!doyoung x dryad!reader genre: fantasy, major angst, fluff, smut, royal!au, 1800s!au summary: as the Crown Prince faces increasing pressure to select a wife, he finally falls in love over the course of a summer—charmed by the sounds of nature and a mysterious tree nymph. word count: 32,000+ warnings: major character death, descriptions of death, familial conflict, discrimination/prejudice (both regarding familial lineage and species), classism, physical violence, descriptions of fire, voyeurism (but not in a kink context), strict gender roles/gender stereotypes, sexism/sexist language, some sexual jokes/vulgar language, outdoor sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex (don’t try at home) a/n: this felt like writing a movie, especially towards the end, and i am TIYADDD. i usually actively avoid writing this many characters/plot points because it gets hard to keep things organized, so this fic was a serious test of my abilities lol... there may or may not be an epilogue after this, but that depends on the audience’s (y’all) interest in one

as always, let’s keep in mind this is just fiction and not a judgment of or truly accurate representation of the personalities of any of the idols depicted in this story. 

@constipation08​ thank you for the request and fic idea, this has been a wild ass ride lmao 😭

“Why do we have to leave the kingdom?! I was doing just fine right here!”

“Because our parents say we have to,” Mark replies nonchalantly, already growing weary of hearing Donghyuck’s griping about the King and Queen’s decision. The younger male throws himself onto his bed beside Mark, sighing loudly the entire time.

Donghyuck turns over on his back to give Mark a look. “But why do we need to leave to take gentlemen’s lessons? None of us here need to learn how to be gentlemen, we already are. At least, I am.”

“Your behavior is saying otherwise,” Doyoung counters, watching the two younger men from the bedroom’s doorway. “Perhaps it won’t be that bad. You’ll get to get away from the kingdom for a few months. It’s almost like a vacation.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “No vacation I’ve ever heard of involves work.”

“I don’t know, I’m a bit interested,” Mark says. “Everyone says Eupheme has the best gentlemen’s tutors in the country, so maybe it’ll be—”

“Ugh, don��t say fun.” Donghyuck grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and smacks Mark across the face with it, causing the other man to yelp in surprise and topple over. They soon become embroiled in a battle of who can land the most hits with their respective pillows, which eventually evolves into them wrestling each other.

“See, this is why mother and father say you all need etiquette lessons. It’s like everything you learned as kids evaporated as soon as you hit puberty.” Doyoung shakes his head, but he also can’t help but laugh a little at their continual bickering. “You’ll spend a few months in the company of the other princes, too, so it’s not all bad. I really don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Maybe because he won’t get to see Nayeon while he’s gone,” Mark says this while Donghyuck has him in a headlock, and the younger boy’s grip tightens around his neck.

“Shut up, Mark!”

Doyoung snorts. “Oh, how could I forget?” Nayeon was the daughter of a local lawmaker and someone who Donghyuck had obviously fancied for a while. Nayeon seemed to enjoy his company well enough, and she was undoubtedly within a proper social standing that everyone approved of, should marriage ever come into question. And, perhaps most importantly, she was also of elven blood. Nevertheless, there was talk that her heart had already been captured by another. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe she’ll realize she really is in love with you while you’re gone.”

“Or she’ll enjoy the sweet silence she gets without hearing Donghyuck chatting her ear off at every available moment.” This comment from Mark sends them into another bout of rolling around on the bed, trying to land hits on each other.

“I pity your future wife,” Donghyuck huffs as Mark tries to overtake him. “She’ll get the title of princess in exchange for what? A husband who will be too frightened to peel the sheets back on her first night!”

Doyoung rolls his eyes when he sees the fighting clearly isn’t coming to an end any time soon. Despite that, he certainly isn’t inclined to try to break them up; the last time he got in the middle of one of their scuffles, he ended up with an accidental black eye. The thought of trying to explain to the public what had happened was too embarrassing for words, and he was resigned to stay confined to the castle as it healed.

It would not surprise him if that incident were a part of the equation that finally convinced their parents to send them away for additional royal training. He, for one, isn’t complaining about it.

Doyoung waves his hand and decides to take his leave, quickly tiring of their theatrics. “You two have fun, then. Try not to kill each other; we’re expected to arrive in Eupheme all in one piece.”

They spend the next few days making the necessary preparations to leave for Eupheme—picking out luggage, selecting which outfits to bring, and deciding which guards will accompany them. Their parents have already arranged for them to stay with the King and Queen of Eupheme, who they are long-time friends of, and their three sons, Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung. Once there, Jungwoo, Mark, Donghyuck, and Sicheng will receive gentlemen’s tutoring alongside the younger three men.

Though they have been to Eupheme and the King and Queen’s home in the past as adolescents, their destination this time is a little different, with a new royal castle only just coming to completion a few years back. The King of Eupheme, always one to pull out all the stops with luxury and extravagance, had seen it fit to build a bigger and more attractive castle in the very center of the kingdom. Their old mansion would go to the oldest son and Crown Prince, Jeno, whenever he married.

The King and Queen of Ceres decide to appoint Doyoung as a chaperone for the boys because of his seniority as Crown Prince—and also because he’s the only older brother they’ll even attempt to listen to. Yuta and Jaehyun stay behind to handle other royal affairs and ambassadorial duties in Doyoung’s place. Some members of the Royal Court are far from thrilled by Doyoung’s departure and Yuta’s taking over a portion of his responsibilities in his absence, but they also know better than to air their grievances out in the open where any of the family could hear.

Yuta is initially not too pleased about being left out of the trip, but he knows there are obligations to attend to in Ceres. He also won’t deny that he relishes being given this role to play, feeling like he has obtained some heightened level of importance within the family for the first time in a long time. He tries not to be so conspicuous about how often he thinks about the position of Crown Prince, and what it might be like if he were only a year older and born of the same mother as his brothers. Yuta tends to think of himself as a master actor in maintaining his unfazed façade concerning his lowered station within the family, with no one the wiser. Well, except for the one he can trust.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is not nearly so chagrined by having to stay as Yuta is. But of course, leaving would mean having to pause his budding romance with the daughter of the Marquess, so he’s more than willing to stay if tasked to do so.

The day of their departure comes fast. Soon, they’re all standing outside the castle as the servants load the men’s things into several of their stagecoaches. The five of them bid their farewells to their parents and two brothers, if a bit over-exaggeratedly.

“I hope you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” Donghyuck says, crowding up to Jaehyun and annoying him with kissy faces.

Jaehyun smiles and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Try not to torment our cousins too much.” Even with his joking, he gives the younger boy a hug and pets his hair before letting him go off to bother Yuta.

Doyoung is already there talking with Yuta, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Take care of things while I’m gone, yeah? If there’s anyone around here who can do it, it’s you.”

“Of course, brother. I always honor my duties.” Then Yuta smirks. “Don’t let Jaehyun hear you saying that, though.”

Sicheng isn’t happy about being separated from Yuta for a span of months, but he doesn’t complain in front of the others about it. He simply gives his brother a long hug, sighing into his shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” Yuta insists, trying to get Sicheng to wipe the pout off his face. “Look at the bright side of it. When you come back, you’ll finally have some proper manners.” Yuta gently pinches his ear and Sicheng makes a face at that, though his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“Maybe. For their sake, perhaps these lessons won’t go to complete waste.” Sicheng glances at his other brothers as he says this, and he gives Yuta another nod before walking to one of the stagecoaches.

“Do take care of your brothers,” the Queen says to Doyoung, fixing his collar and patting his shoulders like she often did when he was smaller. Then she sighs. “We have not been parted for such a long time in years. Hurry back, my son…and please remember to be patient with them…you know how they can be.”

Doyoung smiles as she pats his cheek, though he feels a little embarrassed at his mother’s fussing over him. “I promise everything will go well, mother. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Sicheng and Mark take one stagecoach while Doyoung, Donghyuck, and Jungwoo take the other; their guards and servants have another two to themselves. After everyone is loaded in, they wave goodbye to the King and Queen as they ride away from the castle and towards a summer ahead in Eupheme.

In the stagecoaches, it takes a journey of nearly three days to reach Eupheme. By then, everyone is more than ready to get some space away from each other. Their stagecoaches are more finely outfitted than the ones used for public travel by the common folk, but that still doesn’t make them pleasant to keep an extended stay in. There’s nothing quite like being stowed up in one small space with your siblings for days to realize the value of alone time.

 The castle, they find out as they ride along the path leading to it, sits not too far from a nearby village. Beyond that village, an expansive forest stretches out along the land. As to be expected, new property comes with new people and sights.

 The princes had not last visited Eupheme since before the new castle was completed; now, all this newness comes as a welcome surprise. Donghyuck and Jungwoo press their faces up against the stagecoach window to catch glimpses of the village through the trees as they drive past. It’s raining lightly outside, and the waterdrops slide against the windowpanes as they peer out, obscuring their vision slightly.

Doyoung can already see the rapt excitement in their eyes. “Remember we didn’t come here to play in the village all day,” Doyoung tells the others, sighing deeply as he already knows what their plans will be

“Doesn’t mean we won’t, brother,” Jungwoo chuckles, and Donghyuck voices his agreement.

In Sicheng and Mark’s stagecoach, they also look at the scenery with fascination.

“It’s quite different from their old home,” Sicheng remarks. “But prettier.”

Mark presses his palm against the stagecoach’s interior wall, beside the windowpane, and focuses his energy to create a small portal to the outside. He sticks his hand through it to feel the raindrops pattering against his fingers; the air outside is humid and sticky.

“Showboat. You could’ve just opened the window,” Sicheng points out, though he smirks in amusement.

Their cousins’ castle is a grand thing. It’s similar to their own in many ways, but one thing the Euphemian royals have always prided themselves on is their outstanding landscaping. Their front lawn, backyard, and the surrounding fields create a vast world of their own, filled with intricately-shaped hedges, rare flowers, unique stone statues, and even a winding maze of greenery leading to the castle’s front entrance. It was more than enough land for anyone to get lost in for days. One could spend a week just traversing their entire property alone—forget the village and forest.

As their entourage of stagecoaches makes its way through the path to the mansion, the men talk more excitedly with each other, planning the things they hope to do once they get settled in. The King and Queen of Eupheme and their three sons are already standing in front of the castle steps ready to greet them once they arrive.

“Doyoung!” Jeno calls out the prince’s name as soon as he sees his head pop out of the window, and Doyoung waves excitedly to the younger man as he and the others get out.

Once all five men exit the carriage, they bow to the King and Queen.

“It is so good to see you all again after such a long time,” the Queen says, clasping her hands together with a warm smile.

“Surely, you’ve all grown into fine young men.” The King is a big, intimidating man, even for someone of his rank, and the current smile he wears does little to take away from that fact, but the five men return the gesture all the same.

The men get reacquainted with their cousins as the servants unload their things from the stagecoaches.

“You’ve grown up so much. Let me look at you,” Doyoung says, fawning over Jeno as the other men look on and laugh.

“You act worse than a parent,” Jungwoo says, giggling at Jeno’s blushing face.

Sicheng nods his agreement, looking at the two with an embarrassed expression. “Quite obviously—why do you think they picked him to be our chaperone?”

“Come on, we’ll give you a tour around the castle,” Jisung says, excitedly pulling Mark and Donghyuck along with him as he heads for the castle steps.

“I think we’ll be walking around for an entire day.” Donghyuck snickers. “It’s huge.”

Jisung grins, a knowing glance in his eyes. “An entire day? Oh, cousin, that’s just the east wing.”

Unsurprisingly, the group of brothers aren’t immediately unleashed to go exploring in the village.

Their tutors have them settle into a couple weeks of lessons before adding unsupervised free time to their schedules for them to do whatever they please with. It’s not a lot at first—only 30 minutes at a time—but Doyoung knows that’s more than enough time for them to get into trouble, if they so wish.

The men were hardly impressed with being treated like reckless children and would take whatever chance they could to escape the tutors’ watchful eyes, which meant staying on their best behavior and trying to adhere to all their professors’ instructions until they were granted more leniency.

By that point, their instructors were almost being driven crazy by the men’s frequent and not-so-subtle side conversations about what they’d see in the village once they finally got there.

“Alright, here is your first free break of the day. Go on, make use of it. I say, I’ve never seen a bunch of royals so infatuated with what the commoners are doing,” their music tutor exclaims, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t you much rather stay in here where things are clean and predictable and safe—and most importantly, clean?”

“Hmm, no. Clean’s boring!” Donghyuck counters, and he’s the first one to take off and leave the room once he’s gathered all his things. The rest of the men soon trail out of the room after him, with Doyoung heading up the rear. By their parents’ request, he usually sits in on their lessons to make sure they follow their tutors’ orders, or to help them out with whatever questions they have if the teacher is preoccupied with someone else.

“Are you all going to accompany us?” Donghyuck asks Jeno after the older man catches up to him in the hallway.

Jeno gives him a suspicious look. “Accompany you where?”

Donghyuck lowers his voice to prevent Doyoung from overhearing their conversation. “We’re going to visit the village today, see the lay of the land. There’s no time to waste, so if you want to come…”

Jeno shakes his head, a slightly unimpressed look coloring his features. “You go on ahead. If you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it a thousand times before.”

Donghyuck looks at him skeptically, then claps a hand on his back. “Suit yourself!”

It doesn’t take long for Donghyuck to convince Sicheng, Jungwoo, and Mark to use their free time to go to the village with him, and they decide to take the horses to shorten the time it’ll take to get there. They bypass their rooms and head straight outside for the stable, leaving their books and writing utensils sitting in a heap in a corner to avoid wasting any precious time with putting their things away.

While they’re out in the stable, Donghyuck fawns endlessly over the horses. He’s particularly drawn to an all-black one with a shiny coat and an impossibly long mane. Her expressions are almost elven-like, her eyes showing a certain eerie understanding of the words he speaks to her. A large golden label on her stall reads Lily in black curly lettering.

“She’s amazing,” Donghyuck says, gently stroking her muzzle as she peers at him with her huge black eyes. Mark and Jungwoo come over to take a look at the mare, and Mark agrees to Donghyuck’s observation, grinning softly as he brushes his fingers along Lily’s soft coat. Their moment is suddenly disturbed, however, by a voice coming from the stable entrance. The three of them jump a little in surprise.

“Where are you all going?” It’s Doyoung, of course. Donghyuck scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his older brother as he keeps petting the horse.

“We’re going out,” Sicheng says, laughing from the other side of the stable as he leads one of the horses out of its stall.

“Obviously, but where?” Doyoung walks further into the stable with the other boys, though he screws up his face at the strong smell of horse and hay. Much like the others, riding horses is an activity he quite fancies, but he doesn’t enjoy the smell of it.

“Leave us for once, brother, please! If you come with us, it’s just going to spoil the mood. Between the tutors and the King and Queen, we have enough overbearing people breathing down our necks.” Mark shushes Donghyuck at that, as if he half expects the King and Queen themselves to come out from the shadows and reprimand them.

Doyoung crosses his arms. “I have no intentions of stopping you, but I’m also not going to let you return here with a herd of angry townspeople on your tail if you do something to set them off.”

“Yes, which means you’ll stop us from doing anything fun,” Sicheng retorts, nearly pouting. He’s used his sad eyes and natural charm on his older brothers to get his way in many situations in the past, but Doyoung isn’t budging this time.

“Doyoung is going to come regardless, can the rest of you just bear with it so we can leave?” Jungwoo says impatiently, leading one of the other horses out and fixing its saddle on. “We don’t have all day to argue.”

“Fine.” Sicheng and Donghyuck aren’t thrilled about the prospect of having their older brother tag along to thwart any mischievous plans they might’ve had. They don’t truly hate it, though; they rarely miss an opportunity to try to get on his nerves if they can, and now is no exception.

After they’ve all picked a steed, they mount their horses and take off to leave the castle.

On the horses, it takes only 5 or 6 minutes to reach the village rather than the 20 minutes they’d spend walking there. When they get there, they are greeted by a sign that reads Arthenia Village. It shows obvious signs of wear, but it looks to have been recently covered with a fresh coat of green paint.

From the first glance, it’s easy to tell that the small town mostly consists of supernatural beings—though they could figure that from the atmosphere alone. The air is thick with magic, and it dances across their skin like static. Fairies and orcs and the occasional elf like themselves walk, ride, or fly through the streets, plus many more beings beyond those. Even a small portion of humans live there, though they blend in almost seamlessly with the others—except for their lack of a magical aura.

Some townspeople stop to watch the men enter the village as they trot down the cobbled streets on their horses, all dressed up in their fineries. In the men’s own eyes, their outfits are quite average for a day of schooling, but the villagers rarely see such luxury in their daily lives.

The townspeople are not really used to interacting with royalty, due to the castle’s inhabitants mostly keeping to their own circles of nobility—and seeing everyone else as beneath them, even if they don’t immediately concede to it. Some villagers are in awe of their entrance, while others look on with expressions of contempt. Donghyuck doesn’t mind the glares, though, and waves excitedly to anyone who’ll wave back.

“I wonder about you sometimes,” Mark says to the younger man, and he narrowly avoids Donghyuck trying to reach out and swipe him off his horse.

They eventually dismount the horses and tie them up at a nearby stall so they can walk around the Market Square. There’s little danger of anyone trying to make off with one of the animals; their saddles decorated with the royal colors and insignia would immediately incriminate any person who’d attempt it. And in any case, a punishment of being sent to the guillotine is more than enough to keep potential thieves away.

Arthenia may be small, but it’s still filled with a distinct culture and a sense of hominess, with people selling their homemade wares and groups of little kids playing and weaving through the streets. A group of girls gathered at a small jewelry shop whisper animatedly among themselves as they watch the men walk by, and they freeze when Doyoung meets their eyes. He waves to them with a warm smile on his face, just as he was taught to do, and they wave back enthusiastically, their free hands covering their mouths to disguise their giggles.

Jungwoo quickly becomes entangled in a game of Horseshoes with a group of adolescents who bet he can’t beat them at their own game. And, despite Sicheng’s earlier complaints, he ends up trailing behind Doyoung for most of their trip, unsure how to interact with the villagers except for following his etiquette training and simply smiling politely at them. If he were in an “I told you so” kind of mood, Doyoung might’ve pointed out the irony of the situation, but he decides to let it be, knowing Sicheng is still trying to adjust.

At the very edge of the village, a small dirt pathway gives way to the same forest they saw on their way to the castle. The expanse of the forest is easier to see when outside of Arthenia itself; it spreads like a thick patch of dark green against the lighter green fields and hills. Up close and personal, though, the forest entrance is thick with foliage, making it hard to see through. The unknown nature of it beckons. Donghyuck catches Mark’s eyes lingering in that direction, and he comes up next to the older man, throwing his arm across his shoulders.

“Is that our next conquest?” he proposes, mischief written across his face. “Want to see what lies there?”

Mark looks back at him, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I’m willing if you are.”

A seller at a nearby stall—an elderly orc—overhears their conversation and shakes his head, chuckling as if he’s just heard something utterly ridiculous. “Young men...don’t go in there with bad intentions. The women will drive you out.”

Donghyuck and Mark turn to him with confusion written on their faces. “Women?”

“There are women who live in the trees,” the seller continues. “They protect the trees, protect the forest. Everything there is under their dominion. Before you step foot in there, make sure you’re thinking with your head up top,” he taps a finger against the side of his head, “and not the one between your legs.”

“U-um, that wasn’t—alright.” Mark is openly flustered at being called out, and Donghyuck only laughs, steering Mark away from the stall and back towards the heart of the village.

“Don’t get so discomfited about it, brother. Desires of the flesh are natural for men.” Donghyuck slaps Mark on the chest, and the other coughs a bit at the sudden hit.

“But do you think he said that just to deter us? Or is it true?”

“I’d say there’s only one way to find out.”

Sicheng turns a corner and nearly runs into them, and they both startle at his sudden appearance. “Whatever you’re so eager to find out, it’s not happening today. It’s time to go back already.” He’s no more happy about it than they are, though, rolling his eyes at the prospect of heading back to the mansion when there’s still much to see.

“Already?” Donghyuck questions Sicheng as he starts heading back to the Market Square where their horses are stationed. Sicheng unfolds his pocketwatch and shows him the time, nodding without a word before continuing on. “Ah, shit. We’ll see the forest next time, then. Don’t forget! We’ve got to make haste.”

“Remember what that old man said, though,” Mark says, calling back to Donghyuck as he follows Sicheng. “We aren’t using up all our break time to find lovers or concubines.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Who do you take me for? No one can find a lover in just 30 minutes, Mark, unless it’s you. Then you’d only need 5 minutes at most.” Then he takes off through the streets as Mark chases after him, threatening to kick his ass once he lays his hands on him.

It’s another week before they can make it out to the village—and therefore, the forest—again, but once the time rolls around, Donghyuck is once again the first out of the castle with Mark on his tail. Jungwoo and Sicheng decide to tag along too, along with Doyoung, which none of them are particularly surprised about.

The villagers’ responses are less awe-struck this time, though some of them still express some surprise at seeing the men come to their little town two weeks in a row. Many of them give friendly waves, though others look on with skepticism as they see the men heading for the woods. They pass by the same elderly orc from last week, who gives them a knowing look; Mark shoots him a nervous smile in return.

Entering the woods on horses requires them to duck their heads a bit to avoid the overhanging foliage threatening to poke them in the eyes or get tangled in their hair. A few of them gripe about this, but they quickly grow captivated with interest as they journey deeper into the terrain and survey the woods.

“This place is nice,” Jungwoo comments. His eyes dart to and fro, though, as if he expects one of the aforementioned women to come out of nowhere and sternly rebuke them for entering their forest abode.

“I can’t wait to see what kind of beautiful women live in this forest,” Donghyuck announces.

“Don’t be so eager, I’m positive none of them would be interested in a kid,” Sicheng scoffs. No sooner do the words leave Sicheng’s lips do a pair of pinecones come falling out of a tall pine tree just a ways above their heads. One only narrowly misses Sicheng, but the other catches Donghyuck on the shoulder.

“Ow! Did you see that?” He grabs his shoulder as if it’s injured and whips his head to look up at the pine’s towering trunk, but there’s no sign of anything other than a few unsuspecting birds.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say anything else foolish if I were you, brother. Seems like the forest already has something against you.” He laughs to himself, steering his horse away from the others to explore more of the woods.

“It’s not the forest, it’s the women that stall vendor was talking about,” Donghyuck insists, looking over his shoulder for any more falling objects.

“Sure. Next, you will tell us you’re no longer an elf.” Sicheng is less convinced by the presence of the dryads than the other men, but he’s along for the ride anyway. He will at least get to see what all the fuss is about, and even if it’s not true, he’ll have some time away from the castle. Although the King and Queen are as dutifully welcoming as they should be, he can’t shake the feeling of the King’s judgment brewing just underneath the surface. It’s like his aura intentionally closes itself off to the younger man, too haughty and refined to be in the presence of a concubine’s son.

“Let’s just keep on and see what we come across,” Mark says, steering his horse around a fallen log as he traverses further ahead.

Doyoung catches sight of a large oak tree just a little ways off. It doesn’t look much different from the other trees around, save for a hollow hole in its front, but he’s intrigued by it and decides to look more closely. Once he gets over to it, he climbs off his horse and walks up to its large trunk, carefully maneuvering around the thick roots beneath his feet.

Cautiously peeking into the hollow, he sees a nest, but there are no current occupants. He presses one hand against the trunk and feels the grooves and ridges of its texture underneath his palm. It feels old and powerful, and he guesses it must’ve been here for a long time already.

Doyoung hears rustling a few feet above him from the branches, and a few leaves drift down, brushing his face. He expects to see some bird or squirrel when he looks up, maybe the owner of the nest come back to object to his snooping around, but he’s shocked at the sight of a woman.

Doyoung only catches a glimpse of you, for when you notice him looking at you, you gasp and dart further up into the tree’s branches, causing more leaves to fall on the way. Doyoung shields his eyes from them as they come cascading around him, but he fails to get another look. It’s like the tree has enveloped you entirely, hiding you from view.

“That was odd,” he says aloud. So the seller’s words were true after all. He lingers for a while longer, hoping to maybe stay long enough to see you again, but you’ve disappeared. He’s a bit reluctant to leave, but it’s apparent you’re not going to reappear while he’s still around, so he leads his horse away by its reins and looks for the others.

“I saw something,” he says as soon as he spots Donghyuck. “Or someone.”

“Seriously?” Donghyuck’s eyes light up. “What did she look like? Was she pretty? Did you get her name?”

“‘Was she pretty?’ Is that all you can think about?” Doyoung sighs. “I didn’t get anything. I barely saw her. She was among the tree branches one minute and gone the next.” Donghyuck slumps a bit at that, but he’s still determined to see one of the forest’s female inhabitants for himself.

“Hmmm…no matter. There’s many more chances where that came from. We can always return later and see who shows up.”

Their conversation is cut short by a nearby shout from Mark, who’s loudly complaining about his head. Apparently he’s been struck by something much messier than a pinecone—a robin’s egg. “Ugh. What have you fools gotten into?!” Donghyuck calls out, spurring on his horse.

Doyoung mounts his own horse and follows the younger man in search of their brothers. Just before they get out of sight of the oak tree, Doyoung throws a glance backwards, still burning with curiosity. He’s startled to see the same face from earlier staring back at him from the uppermost reaches of the tree, your eyes wide with an inquisitiveness he thinks must mirror his own.

When he blinks, you are gone again.

Even though the other men look at him a bit oddly for it, Doyoung decides to bring a gift the next time they go to the forest.

He doesn’t know much about tree nymphs. He does know, however, that there is a library full of books in the castle; many being history and reference books, no doubt. After visiting the library one day after his brothers’ lessons, he manages to scrape up a little information on tree nymphs—or dryads, as they’re also called—even though he isn’t entirely sure what he’s looking for.

His research tells him the tree nymphs are friends of the gods and goddesses, and history shows that the higher beings have always liked—even demanded for—gifts. So why wouldn’t the women of the forest be the same way? Maybe if he brings a gift, the women will warm up to their presence and realize they aren’t just a bunch of horny travelers. At the very least, maybe they wouldn’t have any more pinecones and eggs thrown at them.

When the brothers get a chance to go to the forest again, Doyoung carries a couple cinnamon scones and a small, bright clementine from their earlier breakfast in his saddlebag. The chef’s scones are the best he’s ever tasted, and he doesn’t think he could ever go back to eating the ones from their cook back home—not that he’d ever say that out loud, though.

Everyone likes food, right? He figures there’s no way to go wrong with this idea, and even if the girl in the oak tree doesn’t like it, maybe one of the other tree nymphs or woodland creatures can eat it.

You aren’t in sight when he stops by the oak tree again. Donghyuck, who’s accompanying Doyoung on his personal quest, watches as he leaves the food in the small tree hollow, keeping it carefully wrapped in its blue and white handkerchief.

“You think she’ll take it?” Donghyuck asks, keeping his voice low. He doesn’t really want you to hear him talking about you if you’re still around somewhere, which could possibly alert you to their presence and scare you off again. But unbeknownst to him, that’s unlikely to happen; dryads always know when someone enters their forest.

“I wouldn’t reject free food,” Doyoung says, laughing quietly. He steps back once he’s finished with his job and looks towards the branches, as if he expects you to appear right then and accept his offering. That won’t likely happen, but he wouldn’t mind seeing what you look like more closely.

“Well, come on then.” Donghyuck waves his hand. “There’s still more to see. We can double back and see if it worked later.”

They hear rustling among the trees as they guide their horses through one of the forest’s many paths, but they don’t see any signs of the dryads. There’s only the occasional forest creature, such as a racoon or squirrel. Mark, Sicheng, and Jungwoo are farther away in another part of the woods, though the two men can hear them talking faintly, their voices carrying on the wind. Sunlight from the midday sun filters through the leaves, turning the landscape into a speckled show of light and shadow.

When Donghyuck and Doyoung get far enough away from the oak tree, they eventually come across a lake that splits the forest in half. It’s not very wide, but if you tried to jump across it you’d almost certainly land in the water instead of on dry land.

There are signs that sprites have recently been near the lake, or quite possibly live within the forest. The ground is littered with half-eaten berries and chewed-on leaves, but that’s not the only clue; that could be the work of any forest animal. Sprites, however, leave a very distinct tinge of magic in places they’ve visited. It’s akin to walking through a spiderweb, or feeling the air change when you go from the hot outdoors to a cold room. Doyoung almost swears he can hear tiny tinkling laughter next to his ear, though it fades away as soon as he turns around.

Donghyuck is more interested in the lake, though, and guides his horse to walk along the edge of the grass where the water begins. “Do you figure we could go swimming in it?” he calls back to Doyoung.

Doyoung scoffs. “Now?”

“Of course not now! Maybe some other day, when we don’t have 20 other things to do.”

“Maybe. The water seems safe enough…” Doyoung peers into the running waters himself, watching a few twigs and stray leaves float past. There aren’t any apparent dangers or concerns, and the water’s shallow enough where you can see the bottom of the lake, but appearances aren’t always as they seem. It’s always essential to be wary in magically-charged places like this forest.

They ride through the woods for a while longer, listening to birds cry out from the trees and sing softer chirps that serve as background music. Despite the forest’s inherent mystery, it’s almost calming at this moment, with the steady hum of wildlife around. It’s like time has been suspended and they’ve been enveloped in a dimension separate from their own, even though they can see familiar signs of life prospering all around them. The contradiction of the forest’s calm and unsettling quality is both strange and wonderful to experience.

By the time their half-hour of exploration starts running out, they circle back to the grand oak tree to see what’s become of Doyoung’s offering. He’s actually a bit surprised to see it gone, handkerchief and all, and he gets off his horse to inspect the tree hollow.

“It worked!” Donghyuck exclaims this a little too loudly and a nearby bird takes off. He flinches reflexively, expecting another pinecone to come hurtling at him from the trees, though none do.

“It did,” Doyoung agrees, pressing his fingers against the wood as he looks into the tree hollow. He’s even more pleased than he expected to be, a small grin playing on his lips. “It did.”

Doyoung leaves more gifts over the next few weeks, which ends up in him actually buying things for your merriment. Many of them are cute and inexpensive little trinkets from the Market Square, like smooth blue moonstones and jagged sharp crystals that the vendors swear have been blessed with witches’ magic, though he often still leaves food.

Even with these regular visits, he’s still yet to catch more than a few glimpses at a time of you. Unbeknownst to him and Donghyuck, these sightings, no matter how sparse they are, are largely due to you throwing them a bone and allowing them to perceive you. At any other time, it would be all too easy to just disappear completely and wait for them to leave after depositing their offerings.

They don’t always see you when they come to the tree, but it happens enough to be worth noting.

Despite this inability to get you to stay, Donghyuck still tries his luck with calling out greetings to your retreating form. These words, no matter how friendly they are, are often swallowed up in the rustling of the leaves.

The same thing happens today. Donghyuck spots your feet peeking out from an uppermost branch, not quite concealed by the leaves, and he rushes out the first thing he can think of to say. “Hey, there—” At the sound of his voice, though, you quickly retreat. “Uh, nice tree-climbing skills? Oh, alright, okay…”

“I don’t think she wants to talk right now,” Doyoung remarks, a smirk on his face as he goes to leave his token for today. This time, it’s another food gift; a pair of peaches and a biscuit with jam.

“That’s fine!” Donghyuck tries not to seem embarrassed about his fruitless greetings. “I’ll just keep greeting her until she does feel like answering. It would be rude not to say hello otherwise! Unlike someone else here. Not very princely of you, huh, brother?”

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at his brother and spurs his horse to gallop off into the trees, feeling the air whip past his cheeks. In the back of his mind, he himself knows why he keeps calling out to you even if he won’t get an answer, though he doesn’t intend on letting Doyoung know why. Some things are better kept to oneself; he’s had to learn that lesson over time.

He eventually ends up on a small hill in the forest, which is surrounded by tall trees and covered in sparse patches of moss. He hears giggling above him from one of the trees, though when he turns his head to look, there’s nothing there.

Still chagrined from the time he got hit with a pinecone, he keeps his head turned skyward, trying to see if he can spot anything among the tree canopy. However, all he sees is green and more green. He’s about to give up and go about his way when an acorn comes zooming down and hits him square in the forehead.

“Hey!” he shouts, rubbing the sore spot on his head. His exclamation reverberates off the tree trunks and bounces back to him. The echo of it almost overtakes the small set of giggles from just in front of him, but his ear catches them. “Whoever you are, come out!”

Donghyuck’s horse whinnies softly but does nothing else to alert him to where the possible culprit might be hiding, and he sighs heavily. He decides to get off the horse to walk around the area, inspecting it more closely as the wind stirs his hair and tickles his ears. The forest is almost eerily silent the entire time; all Donghyuck can hear is the sound of his own breaths and his boots in the grass.

Suddenly, he yells when a mop of black hair falls on top of his head. The shock of it sends him falling to the ground, dirtying his pants. When he gets enough distance between himself and the strange black hair, he realizes it’s one of the tree nymphs. Not you from the oak tree, though, to his slight disappointment. This one hangs upside down from a thick branch as she looks at him, her eyes playful and bright.

“You’re a cute one, aren’t you?” Her voice sounds like windchimes tinkling in the breeze, light and airy. Donghyuck tries to respond, but he finds himself lost for words after finally facing one of the women who have been an enigma this entire time. When she sees he isn’t responding, she says, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Who...where…?” Donghyuck scrambles to his feet, and the girl rights herself on her tree branch, skittering along the length of it to hide partway behind the tree trunk. She doesn’t appear to actually be shy or apprehensive, though. Her grin tells him that this is all part of her game.

“Hmm. Well, when you figure out what you’d like to say, call for me.” The girl disappears completely behind the tree trunk, and Donghyuck darts behind it, expecting to see her still hiding there. However, there’s nothing but air.

“But I don’t know your name?” Donghyuck calls after her, but there’s only his own voice reflected back to him.

“Don’t know whose name?” Mark’s voice makes Donghyuck turn around in surprise, a blush coloring his cheeks. He hadn’t even heard the older man’s horse come trotting up.

“No one,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he walks back to his horse. “You must be hearing things.”

You and three other dryads sit in a circle in a small clearing one night, talking amongst yourselves, eating berries, and gazing at the moon as it shines directly upon your little spot. Cassia lays her head in your lap, her long black hair splaying across your legs. The other two, Peony and Daphne, cuddle close to each other, their legs entangling as they feed each other berries.

You all only come out like this when you’re sure the forest is free of any unwelcome visitors or sudden drop-ins, so you can enjoy each other’s company in peace and talk without prying ears or eyes. And speak of the devil—the subject soon turns to the men who’ve been gallivanting through the forest as of late.

“We can never have any peace,” Cassia says, though her tone is laced with laughter. “If it isn’t one group of thirsty and untouched men, it’s another.”

“That one man always comes around this area, the one with the long hair. Along with the rest of them…all on their horses, making so much noise and chaos,” Peony complains.

“It’s impossible not to notice their presence. I wish they’d just stay wherever they come from; they make far too much noise out here,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “They must scare away every woodland creature within a 20-foot radius.”

You’re quiet and thoughtful as you listen to the other girls’ complaints. Finally, you decide to chime in. “I don’t know. They do seem a bit mannerless at times, but they’re kind of interesting.”

Peony shrugs. “Not surprised you’d say that. The one with the long hair is always looking up your tree and leaving you gifts.”

“She just doesn’t want the stream of admiration to stop,” Cassia giggles.

You sigh. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, but whatever you say.”

“Everyone in the world likes attention, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassia admits, “especially when it’s coming from someone who isn’t half-bad. This batch of men is by far the most attractive we’ve seen in a while.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” Peony says, and her and Daphne giggle to themselves like they’re in on a joke only the two of them know.

“He must think he’ll get in your good graces if he gives you enough presents,” Daphne adds in. “What say you?”

You tilt your head and think. “Get in my good graces? That depends on what he wants.”

“What he wants?” Peony separates herself from Daphne and crawls over to you, mischief shining in her eyes. “And what do you think he wants?” Her grin doesn’t diminish as she waits for your answer. Daphne smiles and laughs and licks berry juice off her hands as she observes you both.

You stare at the other girl for a long moment, not wanting to laugh but cracking a grin anyway. “I couldn’t possibly know! Maybe you should ask him—or ask the younger one you all have been obsessed with.”

Cassia stretches her arms upwards toward the night sky, crossing her fingers over each other. “Nope. He’s just fun to tease.”

“Fun enough for you to reveal yourself to him,” you point out.

“Say what you will,” she responds. “But at some point, you will probably have to talk to the man. Think carefully. You want to make a good impression on your not-so-secret admirer, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” you say nonchalantly, though you are already thinking of what you might say to him the next time he comes around.

Daphne looks to Cassia, then at you. “Well, just remember this. I wouldn’t waste too much of my good time with him if I were you. We all know elves don’t like us.” The mood shifts a bit at this, with the three of you giving each other unsettled looks as a familiar thought drifts in the back of your minds. It is not uncommon for elves to demean other species, nor is it rare for them to use this perceived superiority to take what they want from others.

Cassia pulls up a handful of grass and throws it at the other girl. “Must you spoil the mood? We’re just having a bit of fun. Besides, these elves obviously don’t object to us if they keep hanging around here unprovoked.”

“I’m trying to look out for the best interest of a fellow dryad,” Daphne protests. “Elven men are very seductive…everything you want them to be until they’re not. But, by all means, do as you please.”

“Like Cassia said, it’s just fun.” You keep your voice nonchalant, though you are already rising to your feet to walk back to your tree. “And thank you for the concern…although I’m not certain it’s warranted.”

The other girls let you walk back alone, knowing you need a bit of time to yourself to think. You wonder what the man’s motive could truly be, and what it means for you. The elves of Arthenia have historically been easy to get along with as they don’t share the views of many others in their race. The same can’t always be said for elven people outside of this small area, though.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

One day, Doyoung manages to go out to the forest by himself while his brothers are still busy with their studies.

He plans to leave you something again, maybe hoping to see you fully this time, though he’s also content to just be out in nature and enjoy the scenery if that’s not possible. At least that’s what he tells himself. Fortunately for him, Lady Luck takes his side today.

After getting off his horse, he heads straight for your oak tree with his gift in hand. It’s a small piece of dyed glass that he got from the Market Square, shaped like a maple leaf. It appears to change colors when held up to the light, as if it were a real leaf with the sun shining through its cells.

You’re already sitting on one of the upper branches when he comes to the tree. He stops in his tracks, thinking you might run off again if he comes any closer, but you simply sit and look at him, your knees close to your chest. He thinks about what a precarious position that is to take on a tree branch, but you’re obviously used to keeping your balance up there.

There’s a tense silence. Doyoung’s afraid you might leave, but he’s surprised when you stay put as the seconds tick past, wrapping your arms around your knees and watching him. When he becomes a little more confident that you won’t try to escape, he steps closer, albeit slowly. “Hello,” he says, keeping his voice even and quiet. Like he’s speaking to something vulnerable and scared.

After a few beats of silence, you say, “Hi.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m...Doyoung.”

“Doyoung.” You cock your head, weighing whether you should tell him your name or not, but you eventually do.

“It’s a pretty name,” he says, and he actually means it rather than saying it just to be polite. “Um…” He looks to the glass leaf in his hand, which is cradled in another handkerchief. “I was wondering if I’d ever get to see you in person.”

“I’m always here,” you say.

Doyoung nods and chuckles. “Well...I can’t argue with that.”

“You’re always here, too. With your group of men. Making so much noise that you scare all the creatures in the forest away.”

Doyoung winces. He already knew that they weren’t the quietest mice in the bunch whenever they came to the forest. “I’m...sorry about that. I’ll tell the others to keep it down from now on.”

You nod. “That would be nice. The other girls don’t like the noise.”

“What about you?”

You shrug. “They’re not wrong for being irritated about it.”

“Could this make up for it? At least, for you?” Doyoung pulls away the handkerchief and holds the glass leaf up for you to see. You climb down from your high post to look at it more closely, though you don’t leave the tree entirely; you just balance on one of the lower branches.

“It’s pretty,” you whisper, and Doyoung notices your eyes seem to sparkle a bit more at the sight of the ornament even though your outer demeanor is calm.

“Then I’ll leave it here.” Doyoung tucks it into the small tree hollow where he’s always put the rest of his presents.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, and he is surprised to see a slight smile on your face; the first one he’s ever seen from you. He realizes he’s staring at you a little longer than he should and catches himself.

“Ah, y-you’re welcome.”

You nod but don’t say anything more, and Doyoung knows he ought to speak again soon if he doesn’t want to surrender this small opportunity he’s had to talk to you.

“Are there...many of you here?”

“Dryads?”

“Ah, yes...dryads.”

“There are many, yes,” you answer. “Not every tree has a keeper; some are just empty. But many do. We live in our trees.”

“In?” Doyoung realizes this may be referring to something other than just literally living among the branches, which he didn’t think of until now. You nod.

“Maybe it’s a little different from your elven magic.” You glance at his ears and momentarily think of the conversation you had with the other dryads. “But it’s a type of magic all the same.”

“I see…” Doyoung remembers to file that bit of information away so he can tell Donghyuck, who’s been burning to know. The books in the library only provided so many answers, much to their disappointment, with them not having much recorded information on the tree nymph race. Dryads seemed to be a thing of mystery to many, though he could easily guess why.

“You’re not Eupheme-born,” you say abruptly. “Where do you hail from?”

“The kingdom of Ceres,” Doyoung answers. You nod, and he takes this as recognition. “Have you been there before?

You shake your head. “I can’t leave the forest.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“We’re connected to the trees. They keep us alive, and vice versa. If we’re separated over too far of a distance, both will die.”

“That’s grim,” Doyoung says, his eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t you ever want to leave? Go somewhere else? It can’t be happy to be chained to one place forever.”

You raise your eyebrows and laugh, incredulous at his statement. “Chained? The forest is my home. There’s nowhere else I’d ever want to be.”

Doyoung shrugs. “You have a much stronger constitution than me, then. I don’t know that I’d want to be tied to any one place for my entire life.”

You squint your eyes, staring at him carefully. “You’re royalty, aren’t you?” He nods in response. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. You can come to this forest however you please and have fun, but you’ll have to have a family sooner or later...something more permanent to tie you to this world.” You slip down from your branch, letting your feet touch the ground, and Doyoung steps back a little to give you space. “Men like to roam and be free and sow their wild oats. They’re more than welcome to do that, but I’ll stay here among the trees.”

He stares at you in wonder, your words repeating in his head as you gingerly take his gift out of the hollow. You turn back to him momentarily, giving him a quick parting smile and a nod before skipping off into the trees.

“A letter came!” Jungwoo holds up a cream-colored envelope that sports their family’s familiar crest on a wax seal on the back. It’s a letter from their parents—their first correspondence since the men have left the castle.

“What does it say?” Mark and Donghyuck crowd around him to persuade him into opening the envelope faster. Before Jungwoo can read it, Sicheng plucks it out of his hand and holds it up to the light, making a show of squinting at the inky black handwriting. “Well? Go on!” Donghyuck prods him.

“Hmm...” Sicheng purses his lips and crinkles his brows as if concentrating hard, then gives them all a sly smile. “It says you’re all kicked off the inheritance and I’m becoming the next Crown Prince.”

Doyoung shakes his head and takes the letter from Sicheng as the younger man laughs. The other three boys balk at his attempt at a joke, and Doyoung knows the atmosphere could easily turn awkward if he doesn’t step in now. “Anyway. Let’s see what it really says, I’m sure they must be missing our presence…”

They all stand around Doyoung as he reads the letter out to them, trying to look over his shoulder as if he can’t read fast enough to satisfy their curiosity.

“Dear boys, we hope Eupheme has been finding you well.

Affairs in Ceres have been running as normal in your absence, thankfully, and Yuta and Jaehyun have been handling their new duties well. They also send their regards and hope to see you back soon.

“There is also important news for our Doyoungie. We are considering a potential match for you—the Duke of Ceres’ daughter, with whom you should already be familiar—and plan to set a meeting as soon as you return at summer’s end. We think you will find her very agreeable...” Doyoung’s voice falters a bit.

“Aw, is our indecisive brother finally going to become a married man this year?” Jungwoo slings his arm around Doyoung’s shoulders, and the older man lets out a puff of air.

“By the beginning of next year, who wants to bet?” Donghyuck snickers. “Girls naturally love you, it won’t take long for you to charm her. Either way, it’s not like you have very much longer to wait.” Mark elbows him in the side and he complains in turn, but not before cuffing Mark over the head.

“...I suppose.” That comment about being a “ladies’ man” might have drawn a laugh or two or even a boast if it were said months ago, but now Doyoung just feels strangely unsettled about it all—the impending courtship and his inevitable marriage. He continues reading the rest of the letter, though if someone were to ask him later, he wouldn’t be able to remember the rest of the words.

“We think you will find her very agreeable and are thrilled for you to get to know each other better. It is nothing to worry yourself over now, but do keep this in mind.

“Boys—remember to keep following all of your tutors’ instructions, and please refrain from making yourselves bothersome. You all are guests, and the King and Queen of Eupheme are being very honorable by hosting you this summer.

“We all send our best regards.”

That night, Doyoung tries his best to fall asleep but is kept awake by the contents of the letter. It’s hard to tear his mind away from what will happen once he returns to Ceres. Though he’d thought he’d be prepared for this, he feels unexpectedly nervous and averse to the idea of yet again courting someone he barely knows for months—and quite possibly marrying them this time around. He doesn’t know how much longer their parents’ patience in allowing him to take his time with finding a partner will last.

It’s proper. It’s tradition. It’s what’s expected of him and his brothers, and he’s been primed for this duty his entire life. Yet, that knowledge does nothing to quell the uncomfortable sensation—dare he call it dread?—creeping upon him.

He watches the clock on the mantle across his bedroom, just above the fireplace. Its little black hands tick by endlessly, counting down the seconds, minutes, hours. When another hour passes and he’s still staring at the clock, Doyoung peels the covers back and decides to leave the castle for a bit. He already knows of a few tucked-away passages he can slip out of that lead to the outside in some way or another, having bribed Jaemin into telling him where they are in case any of his brothers tries to sneak out. How ironic that he’s now using that knowledge for his own gains.

Although he’s not sure if he’ll need it, Doyoung throws on a cloak for good measure before escaping to the outside. He spends a while walking through the castle’s extensive gardens and making sure he’s staying out of sight of the guards, though he feels no sleepier than he did when he first got there. Exasperated, he’s about to turn around and head back for the indoors when the woods beyond Arthenia pop into his mind.

Should he? He’s already outside; what’s the harm in it? Admittedly, the answer is a lot if he’s caught, but he pushes those thoughts away, as his feet are already turning to lead him away from the castle grounds. Doyoung decides he’ll use his glamor for a bit to disguise his face and elven ears once he gets to Arthenia, though there probably won’t be many people awake at this time of night.

Without a horse, the walk to the forest is long. Doyoung doesn’t create any of his light orbs until he’s sure he’s far enough away from the castle to not be spotted by any of the night watch guards. When he thinks it’s safe, he conjures a small ball of burning blue light in his palm, which is enough to illuminate his footsteps.

Doyoung’s boots are wet from the damp grass by the time he reaches the Market Square, and he passes by the rows of houses and outbuildings without a sound. Some lights are still on in some homes, glowing a warm yellow in the dim light of the half moon, while others are pitch black and fade into the surrounding darkness.

The forest looks even more intimidating at night, even with the limited light. He hesitates at the forest entrance for a minute, wondering if it’s safe to go inside. He’s yet to see anything truly dangerous during the daylight hours, but things can be different at night. He didn’t think to possibly bring his bow and arrow from their archery lessons, and there will be no easy escape on horse if something menacing crosses his path. Shaking his head and sighing, he enters anyway and prays to whatever goddess will listen for the best. He’s already walked this far.

Doyoung convinces himself that he’s just going to walk around for a bit, maybe sit at the lake for a while, but after turning in a wide, looping circle, his feet eventually end up leading him to the oak tree. You are already sitting on a low branch when he arrives, as if waiting for his appearance. He notices you’re wearing the moonstone he once left in the tree hollow; somehow it’s been fashioned into a necklace, and he wonders where you got the tools to do that. One of your legs trails off the tree branch you’re perched on, swinging leisurely in the cool night air, and he tries not to stare.

“Y/N,” slips from his lips. “You’re awake at this hour?”

You smirk. “So are you.” Doyoung moves the cloak’s hood away from his face with this free hand, and you study the glowing orb in his other hand. “You’re a Light User...that’s interesting.”

“I guess it could make for a fun trick at a ball,” he says, and tosses the glowing orb up into the air. He does this a few times until he throws it up one last time and it hovers in the air, as if stuck by an invisible force. Doyoung manipulates the orb with his fingers in a way that causes it to split up into a dozen more bright glowing spheres, all suspended in the air. By now, the entire area around the oak tree is lit up from the light emanating from these numerous orbs.

You laugh softly at this display, reaching out to touch the orb nearest to you and discovering that, despite your hand passing through it, the air still feels oddly warm in the spot where the light glows. “Very pretty. It’s peculiar to see you at this hour, though. Are you even allowed to be out this late?” you ask, your eyes still lingering on the orb.

“No, but…” Doyoung trails off, unsure if he wants to revive that concern. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You finally look back at him, and your face creases slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Doyoung says, and he doesn’t know, really. Getting married was always a part of the plan, as royalty. So why is he doubting it now? Maybe he knows more about why he’s feeling this way than he’ll admit to, but there are things he’s still not even sure of himself at the moment.

You decide not to press the matter for now, especially after seeing his conflicted face. “You don’t have your horse. Was it a long walk?”

He nods and laughs a little, thinking maybe it was a bit ridiculous to walk all the way here in the middle of the night. He still has to walk all the way back, which isn’t an appealing thought. “Nothing like a bit of exercise to tire you out, I guess. Hopefully I’ll sleep better after.”

“You sound like a troubled sleeper. I eat jasmine petals if I have trouble sleeping. You know, there’s a bush of them around here.” It’s an offer for him to partake, if he wants to.

“My mom likes jasmine tea,” Doyoung says, grinning slightly. “Do you often have trouble falling asleep? I would think it would be easier being surrounded by nature like this.”

You slide off the lower branch and land on the grass with a soft thump. “Not always…but I’d rather have an easy remedy than be left without one when I needed it.” Then you move to follow a dirt path leading away from the tree, but not before turning back to look at Doyoung. “Come on, then. I’ll show you the bush.”

Once again, he hesitates like he did just before entering the forest. “Is...it safe?”

You squint at him. “Safe?”

“I mean…there must be other creatures in this forest besides the agreeable woodland variety.”

“Yes…but they mostly live on the far outskirts. And either way, none of the other inhabitants will hurt a dryad. We’re the forest’s keepers. So you’ll be safe if you’re with me.”

Doyoung decides to take your word for it and follows you along the path, his blue orbs trailing after him. He sends some further ahead to light the narrow path so you both can see better, though you already know where the bush is by heart.

Soon, you’re both standing in front of the aforementioned bush, which is laden with white jasmine blooms. They seem to shine unnaturally brightly under the illumination of the blue orbs.

“Take some,” you say, carefully plucking one of the flowers from the bush. You hold it up to his nose so he can smell it, and he does so. The scent envelops him like a warm hug, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s already making him feel better. When you hold the flower out to him, he takes it gingerly. He doesn’t fail to notice the soft blossom’s texture, or the equal softness of your hand.

“Will your friends be okay with this?” Doyoung asks tentatively, holding the flower in his hand with a certain fragility.

“They will. And if they aren't, it can be our secret.” There are no secrets in this forest, really, but you humor him anyway, wanting to do something nice in return for the gifts he’s given you.

Doyoung nods and takes a couple more of the flowers, their leaves included, for the tea. He tucks them safely in the pocket of his pants.

You smile at him once he’s taken what he wants. “You’re quite gentle,” you remark. Doyoung doesn’t expect to hear that from you, and he looks at you quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“You just appear to be very...cognizant. Many people who’ve come to the forest before don’t give any thought to disturbing the natural balance of things and taking what they want. Not the villagers, but others.”

“I see,” Doyoung nods, feeling his face grow warm. He’s never had that particular attribute associated with him before. Gentle. Men are meant to be strong and brave and fearless; gentleness is for the fairer sex. He doesn’t dislike it, though. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You nod in return. “Well, it’s getting a bit late...later than it already is, anyway. I don’t know how things at your castle work, but you may want to be getting back before someone notices you’re gone. The sun will be rising soon enough.”

Doyoung smiles slightly. “You’re quite right.”

“Would you like me to walk back with you? To keep you safe, you know.” You giggle at this. “I will only go as far as the edge of the forest. But you should be alright beyond that point.”

“That’s fine with me.” Doyoung can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about being on the receiving end of such niceties, thinking that this is the kind of thing he’d be doing for you in any other context. He’s not going to pass up the offer of safety, though—and the opportunity to spend a few more minutes in your company.

You talk in low voices on the way back towards the forest’s opening. Mostly about things in the forest, though Doyoung does mention his brothers once or twice. Secretly, you think it’s a bit endearing how much he cares about them even if they get on his nerves.

“We’re here,” you say once you’re in view of the village again.

“Thank you for walking with me. And thank you for the jasmine.” Doyoung pats his pocket.

You grin and wave. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

Doyoung starts walking off but suddenly turns back to you as if there’s something more he wants to say. You raise your eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak, but after a second, he only smiles—if a bit nervously—and returns your wave.

You shuffle back into the underbrush a bit, though you stay there and watch him walk away until he’s just a speck amongst the backdrop of the village.

Doyoung makes it back home undetected and climbs back into bed feeling tired enough to sleep now, though he also attributes some of his sleepiness to the pleasant smell of jasmine still clinging to him.

When he slumbers, he dreams of a soft hand touching his, ripe with the scent of jasmine flowers.

The days get progressively hotter as the summer months settle in. With their tutors’ increasing lenience thanks to them taking well to their educational and etiquette lessons, the men get more time to themselves to do whatever they wish. The heat encourages them to spend more time outdoors, whether it’s running through the castle’s expansive yards, shooting arrows at targets or some poor stuffed mannequins, or heading to the village—and subsequently, the forest.

One hot day when they have little responsibilities to tend to, Jungwoo comes up with the brilliant idea to head to the lake for a couple hours, perhaps to cool down from the heat by wading in the water for a while. Sicheng, who has grown a bit disenchanted with the forest, decides to spend the day with their three cousins instead.

However, when the men get within shouting distance of the lake, they realize it’s already occupied.

“Wait!” Mark hisses, pulling on the reins of his horse to make it stop. He holds a finger to his lips, and before any of the men can question him, the sound of shouting, laughter, and water splashing drifts to them on the wind. It appears they aren’t the only ones who’ve had the idea of visiting the lake today.

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen, and he and Jungwoo waste no time with getting off their own steeds to head for the riverbank.

“Wait, where the hell are you leaving off to?” Doyoung whisper-shouts, but the two pay him no mind as they creep over to a cluster of bushes near the edge of the lake. The shrubs are big enough to conceal them while still providing a few gaps to peek through, and from their new post they spot the dryads farther down the length of the lake, standing in a shallow portion. The women aren’t near enough to spot the men hiding in the bush, but they are still close enough to see clearly from this distance.

“W-what do you see?” Mark asks, his body poised as if he wants to get off his horse and join them too, but he’s still unsure.

“You’ve got to see it for yourself,” Donghyuck snickers, waving the older man over.

Mark looks to Doyoung. Doyoung gives him an incredulous look, and Mark shoots an apologetic one back before dismounting his horse and going over to join his brothers, squeezing in-between them as they crouch on the ground. He sees a group of six dryads playing in the lake, splashing each other with the water. Two more sit on the bank observing the festivities and talking about something they’re holding in their hands, though Mark can’t quite make out what the small objects are.

Donghyuck has only barely seen you during the times he’s gone with Doyoung to deliver your gifts, though he instantly recognizes you as one of the girls standing in the lake. His breath catches a bit as he watches you with water glistening off your skin and your dress clinging to your body.

“Isn’t this a little distasteful?” Mark mutters, his big eyes darting nervously between his brothers. He shifts uncomfortably, looking like he’s ready to make a run for it if need be. “I mean, watching them through the bushes like this…”

“Probably,” Jungwoo replies. “But as long as they don’t notice us…”

Mark almost shouts at feeling a hand come down on his shoulder, and Donghyuck whips his head around when the same happens to him; however, it’s only Doyoung. “You all need to get up right now,” he hisses lowly. “Haven’t you learned anything over the past few months? This is inappropriate—”

“Why are you standing?! Get down before they—”

Before any of them can realize what’s happening, what must be a gallon of lake water splashes down on all four of their heads. Screams of shock ring through the forest, along with a loud round of laughter—coming from both above them and further down the lake.

Mark, Jungwoo, and Donghyuck get to their feet in a rush, looking and feeling very much embarrassed. They look up toward the treetops and see two dryads sitting in the cleft of some of the sturdier branches, openly giggling at them. Jungwoo notices they aren’t holding buckets or any other objects that could’ve explained how they got the water up there in the first place—just a net woven with leaves, which he is certain they couldn’t have been transporting the water in. And yet… “How did you...?”

The women aren’t interested in answering his question, though, and instead disappear into the branches, leaving nothing but a few stray leaves fallen to the ground.

“I think we probably deserved that,” Mark says, sighing and trying to shake some of the water out of his clothes. The rest of the dryads who are still in the water follow the lead of the other two girls, running out of the lake and scattering through the forest, the echoes of their laughter the only evidence that they were ever there. The only ones who stay are you and the two other tree nymphs sitting on the riverbank. Now that everyone is in full view of each other, Mark belatedly realizes that the “objects” the two girls were holding and cooing over are not objects at all, but small sprites.

You step a little closer to the group of men, and the other two girls watch them intently. “If you wanted to play with us, you could just say so. It would benefit you not to be a bunch of cads about it.” You roll your eyes, though you are somewhat amused by seeing them standing there looking soaked and embarrassed.

“O-of course! I tried to tell them, but you know how it is with these kids...we were just leaving, actually.” Doyoung grips Donghyuck and Jungwoo’s collars like he’s about to drag them off like two misbehaving children, and Donghyuck’s face flushes at being treated like a kid in front of you.

“Are you sure about that?” you ask, and Doyoung raises his eyebrows at your question. You lower your hand into the lake water as if you’re only checking its temperature or letting it flow through your fingers—which is why they’re taken off guard when you draw your hand back and send a big splash of water flying in their direction.

Donghyuck is the first to react, pulling away from Doyoung’s grasp and rushing into the water to splash you back. It’s not long before things quickly evolve into another splash battle, with the other boys wading into the lake to join. The other two girls give skeptical glances at first, but they eventually bid goodbye to their sprite friends and jump into the lake, too.

You all spend what feels like hours running through the water and splashing each other, and your two friends take more quickly to the men than you expected. When the hour for them to leave comes rolling around, you are all soaked but smiling.

“We’re never going to hear the end of it,” Mark says, looking down at their wet clothes. Still, there’s no concealing the bright and amused smile coloring his features.

Your two friends wave to the men and quickly slip off back to their trees, though you linger for a while longer as you watch them climb out of the lake and try to wring out their clothes. Doyoung’s the last one left standing in the water with you, and you turn to him.

“Did the flowers help?” you ask.

“The flow—? Oh, the flowers! They worked just as intended, thank you…” Doyoung blushes a little at the memory. As the others head for their horses, Donghyuck hangs back a little to hear the conversation, wanting to be nosy and wondering what flowers you’re referring to.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you reply, smiling and feeling a little proud that your remedy worked—even though you knew it would. “You know, if you ever need anything else, you can just ask…there are a lot of resourceful things here. It’s like living in an apothecary.”

“Well, I’m interested if he isn’t!” Haechan interjects.

You smirk lightly at him while Doyoung shoots him an irritated look. “Sure. I suppose you’ve taken interest in the forest itself and are no longer just looking for a pretty woman to mess around with?”

Donghyuck flushes at your words, and his smile falters a little at being called out on his earlier intentions. Beside him, Doyoung gloats internally, and he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. “Um…sorry about that.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say matter-of-factly. Then you turn to Doyoung. “Anyways…don’t forget what I said. I’ve gotten used to seeing you around here, so...don’t be a stranger.” You go to leave then, but not before turning back around once more. “And don’t go snooping around. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Donghyuck only nods, too embarrassed to respond and unable to justify himself. Both men watch as you walk away, likely back towards your tree. Doyoung turns to the younger man. “Come on, then. Let’s be heading back; maybe our clothes will dry out on the way there.”

After the lake incident, Donghyuck insists on using all his lesson breaks for the next couple of weeks to go with Doyoung whenever he travels to the forest to see you. Donghyuck becomes even more invested in this after knowing that Doyoung had already met you face-to-face after going to the forest by himself. The older man acquiesces, though deep down he’d like to spend more time with you alone—especially with managing to make these visits only once or twice a week. Still, seeing you with his little brother clinging to his side is better than not seeing you at all.

Donghyuck is talkative and lively and inquisitive in your presence, much more willing to learn new things from you than from even the highest-rated tutors in Eupheme. Doyoung finds that particularly ironic, though he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he listens intently along with Donghyuck as you tell him about the many different kinds of plants within the forest, including what purposes they serve. Doyoung is always reminded of the night you gave him those jasmine flowers, and even now, he stares at your hands as you point out different leaves and subtly wishes he could have any excuse to touch them again.

“These berries are safe to eat, though they look very similar to poisonous Pokeweed berries. That’s why you want to be sure you can tell the difference between them…” You place a few in your palm and hold them out for Donghyuck to see.

Donghyuck—who looks at you like you know everything in the world. You know many things, but not everything; but you’ll continue to let him look at you so admirably, because you find it endearing. He somewhat makes you think of what it might be like to have a younger brother or an amiable male friend. Someone to offer you a different perspective of the world external from the community of women you’ve always lived in.

Could Doyoung be that male friend or curious brother, too? Maybe, but maybe not.

Whenever you turn and speak to Doyoung to keep him included in the conversation, you don’t get that companionable feeling. There’s something much warmer there, something that makes you smile a little wider and causes more interesting facts to pop into your head. You enjoy telling him more about the forest, your home, and you somehow feel like you’d tell him anything he wants to know whenever he looks at you.

You like to see his smile, and the way his eyes grow smaller as he laughs or grins at something you’ve said. You haven’t felt this in a very long time, but if there’s anything to compare it to, it’d be eating warm honey straight from the honeycomb, or breathing in a lungful of jasmine scent before drifting off to sleep.

You don’t dwell on it for too long, simply wanting to experience the emotions as they are rather than spend too much time worrying over what they mean. Nevertheless…your idea of Doyoung is quite different from a friend or brother, indeed.

Although it is a Saturday when Doyoung comes to visit you, the sky is a dark and restless contrast to the day’s liveliness, the clouds looking heavy enough to drag down to Earth. He knows it’ll likely rain soon, which means he should probably stay in the castle and keep dry, but he ventures out to see you anyway. Today is the first time in a while he’s been able to see you without Donghyuck by his side, so he’s taking the opportunity.

You’re not in your tree when he comes. He thinks maybe he might go and look for you, but you’ll know where he is faster than he could find you. It takes a few minutes, but as expected, you appear from the further reaches of the woodland, laughing to yourself and holding a ring of flowers. There’s a similar one on your head made up of purple and white blooms. Doyoung thinks you look something like an angel against the sky’s gloom, with a halo made of blossoms instead of light.

“You’re here now? It’s about to rain,” you say, though your tone shows you’re clearly happy to see him.

He shrugs. “I felt like getting some air...I’m not concerned with a little water, as you probably already know.” I wanted to see you, is what he’d really like to say, but he doesn’t want to jump the gun. You nod in understanding, then hold up the ring of flowers in your hand; it has a few blue ones reminiscent of Doyoung’s light orbs. You offer the flower crown up to him, and he bends so you can place it on his head.

“Now you look like a true prince,” you say, smiling in satisfaction at your masterpiece. “I’ve never seen you with a crown until now. That’s a shame.”

“It is a shame.” Doyoung brings a hand up to feel the petals of one of the flowers between his fingers, and he grins. “I’m quite handsome in one.”

“Oh, my prince!” You start prancing around Doyoung and his horse like a fairy, or maybe like a young maiden at a fancy ball, brushing your hand along the animal’s shiny coat as you do. “It’s such an honor for you to grace our forest with your elegant visage.” You finally stop in front of him with a curtsy, though you have to take a moment to readjust your flower crown when it almost flies off at the sudden stop. “What can I have the pleasure of doing for you today?”

Though he laughs at your acting, he’s also a little awestruck for a moment, taken away by your cuteness and humor. Doyoung realizes there’s an awkward silence settling between you as he’s yet to say anything, and he finally stutters out, “There was something I...w-wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?” You come out of your curtsy and stand straight in front of him, all ears open for whatever he’s about to say.

“Well, it’s…” It’s a lot scarier to say what you want when you’re standing in front of someone and not just practicing in front of the vanity mirror. Doyoung is still piecing the words together when a few drops of rain hit his cheek. He doesn’t think much of it at first, but the droplets become impossible to ignore when they suddenly come hammering down without pretense, as if the gods have given word for the heavens’ floodgates to open.

“Come on!” You start running and Doyoung has no choice but to follow, tugging his horse along with him. It doesn’t take long for you to lead him to a small cave he’s never seen before. To his defense, that’s likely because the opening of it is partially obscured by hanging vines and other vegetation. It’s tall enough for someone of Doyoung’s height to stand in comfortably, which he’s relieved by. He doesn’t consider himself to be one of the more uptight royals like many others he knows, but he also wouldn’t be thrilled by the idea of sitting down in a cold, dirty cave in the rain. Even with your haste, though, you’re both quite wet by now.

Though the cave is spacious enough for you two, it becomes apparent that both of you and the horse won’t fit. Instead, Doyoung guides the animal to take shelter nearby under a willow tree with overhanging branches.

The cave is not very deep at all, only extending a few feet backwards. Perhaps that’s reassuring, at least for Doyoung, because there won’t be any disgruntled animals popping out to protest against their space being invaded.

“Well, that was interesting.” You chuckle as you squeeze water out of the hem of your dress.

“Suppose I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” Doyoung does the same for the ends of his hair, though he knows it will be a while before it gets acceptably dry.

You laugh and nod. “You said you wanted to tell me something. What was it?” you ask.

Doyoung pauses and looks at you carefully, with rainwater dripping off his chin and darkening his clothes. He looks very serious, which is something you haven’t really seen before. It makes concern rise in your stomach, thinking maybe he has some bad news to deliver.

However, you’ve mistaken the intensity in his eyes for somberness when it’s something else entirely.

“I...love you.”

You regard him with wide eyes, feeling a little taken aback. The rain pours noisily in the background, but you’ve heard him loud and clear.

“I know we have only known each other for a few months,” he continues, “but I love you. I want to be with you.”

You’re surprised that he feels this strongly about you already, but it’s also true that you’ve felt yourself falling for him in the past few months, with his thoughtful gifts and kind smile and soft voice. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, lips parting minutely. He catches the small movement of your mouth, like he notices everything about you—whether you acknowledged it before or not.

Doyoung takes your hand. Though his palm is wet from the rain, you don’t care about that. “I think about you when I’m not here in the forest…and when I’m overseeing my brothers’ lessons. I dream about you when I sleep at night. Every time I get another gift for you, it’s because I want to see you smile so brightly like that again, because of me. I never want to know a day without you.”

You know Eupheme isn’t his home, that he has to leave someday. You know elves don't generally think kindly of dryads, viewing you all as frivolous and foolish and loose; and even if him and his brothers don’t, there’s no telling what the rest of his family thinks. You also know that even without those two things standing in the way, he’s still a prince who’ll need to be married to a suitable bride at some point. All of those things make you nervous. There are many obstacles before you, but you allow yourself to forget them momentarily as you stand in this cave with him.

You bring Doyoung’s hand up to your lips and kiss his knuckles softly, taking what warmth you can despite his cool skin. You hold his hand tightly, like it might be taken away from you otherwise. “Doyoung…you have charmed me unlike anyone else.”

You bring that hand closer and place it over your racing heart, and he seems a bit hesitant at first because of the proximity to your breast, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he readily responds to the kiss you give him afterwards, drinking in your warmth as a balm for the sudden cool air. For a while, there’s only the sound of rain coming down and your lips connecting with each other’s.

You don’t know how long you kiss each other, but there’s nothing else you can do in this small cave, so you continue without thought to the outside circumstances. Even after your lips part, you huddle close together. You close your eyes in Doyoung’s embrace, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and breathing underneath your ears and basking in the fullness of your own heart.

When the rain finally stops, Doyoung has to leave. The sun will be setting soon; the downpour went on longer than either of you anticipated.

“I promise I’ll come back soon,” he says, clinging to your hand with both of his.

“You always do.” You already trust him more than you can say.

Doyoung nods to your words, smiling somewhat bashfully. He steps out of the cave and lets your hand slip from his. But before he can get more than a few feet away, he turns around and comes back to kiss you once more on the lips, his fingertips on your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You laugh once you separate from each other. “The sun’s getting low, and the others will question you. Go on now.”

Doyoung keeps to his word and makes his way out after fetching his horse, but he keeps glancing back to you until he’s completely disappeared among the brush.

You feel like your mind has been filled with soft moss, all airy and soft and tangled together with unending thoughts. You walk back to your tree feeling as if you could float there instead, enjoying the damp grass under your feet.

The time slips by blissfully.

Doyoung keeps coming out to see you during his free time each week, as he has done since he’s been in Eupheme, though sometimes he’s able to manage more than just one or two visits. On those weeks when he comes out more often, whether it be at night or during the day, you hold him especially tightly, enjoying the extra time with him and wanting to live inside of it—to freeze a moment in time and keep it close to your chest for as long as possible.

“I wish you could see the castle,” Doyoung says this low and close to your ear like he’s telling you a secret. He lies on his side beside you in the grass, playing with your fingers. A gap in the treetops lets a lopsided circle of sunlight shine down on your faces, warming you both from the inside out. “Walk through the maze of land...or see the stable.”

You hum softly. “Hmm...I’m sure it’s nice.” Doyoung laughs, knowing you’re not interested in any place else other than your forest; you can’t hide the neutral note in your tone, though he knows it isn’t towards him.

“Or I could live out here with you.” He strokes the pad of his thumb along the length of your ring finger, and you don’t fail to notice this.

You turn to him, full on grinning now. “I thought you said you’d never want to be tied to one place. Remember?”

Doyoung grins sheepishly along with you. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Mmm, how indecisive you are…if you stay with me here, you can’t ever leave.” You pluck a tiny blue flower from the ground and brush it against his lips, tracing the shape of his cupid’s bow with it. “Make your choice wisely.”

Doyoung purses his lips against the small flower, as if giving it a kiss, and does the same with your fingers as they ghost across his mouth. “I’ve chosen already, princess.”

You lean in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway. The little blue flower slips from your hand. You don’t know if there could ever be a more perfect moment, kissing him like this with the warmth of the sun on your back and your ears full of the sounds of birds chirping and insects purring—and, in the very distance, the lake water running.

You don’t get to bask in the moment for too long, though, before something is interrupting you; and it’s not one of the other women like you might’ve expected.

There’s a rustling and a crash in the bushes, and you whip your head towards the noise, but it’s only a deer—or maybe some other creature—running off. You catch a few glimpses of its brown coat before it becomes obscured by the leaves. You still keep your gaze turned towards the bushes. Though there is nothing else there, you still get the odd sensation of being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung whispers, his index finger touching your cheek. He glances at the source of the noise, but his eyes stay mostly focused on you.

“I know it’s odd, but…have you ever felt like you were being watched? Even though nothing’s there?” you ask slowly.  “I’ve…sort of felt like this a few other times when we were together.”

Doyoung looks suspicious for a moment, though he eventually shakes his head. “No, I...not really.” He sits up to look at the same space you’re staring at, but he doesn’t see anything more than you do. “If someone else were out here besides the other dryads and the animals, wouldn’t you already know?”

“I suppose that is true,” you say, though you still look towards the bush, trying to see if there’s something you’re somehow not spotting. The sense that you have a pair of eyes at your back still doesn’t go away, even when Doyoung finally pulls you away from the spot to walk further into the woods.

In the middle of August, the Archduke of Eupheme holds a ball. He has been renown for his exorbitant parties for many years, and although he couches this party in the excuse of making the Crown Prince and his brothers feel a bit more at home in the kingdom, everyone knows it’s really just a reason to get drunk and have some fun. No one would dare complain, though; after all, who’d pass up the chance to attend? To rub elbows with handsome men and women and forget more pressing worries for a while?

The King and Queen of Eupheme see it as a good way for the young men to show off their newly acquired social etiquette they’ve been sharpening during their lessons—and possibly mingle with noble women. Similarly, none of the brothers will object to the latter idea. Except for maybe Doyoung.

“Cheer up! I’ve never seen you look so unsettled when going to a party,” Jungwoo says, pinching Doyoung’s cheek. They’re all loaded into their separate stagecoaches, with Jungwoo, Doyoung, Jaemin, and Mark in one and the other boys inside another behind them.

“I’m fine,” Doyoung insists, waving away the concern and plastering a hesitant smile on his face. He can already guess what’s in store for tonight.

The ride to the Archduke’s place is shorter than Doyoung expected. It’s been a long time since they last visited the Archduke’s mansion, and he swears he remembers the journey being longer than this. He sucks in a deep breath as he steps out of the stagecoach. The mansion looms large up ahead, obviously not quite as big as the King and Queen’s castle, but extravagant enough to be of note. Its stone interior glows with rows of brightly burning torches decorating either side of its grand entryway.

The Archduke’s large ballroom is filled to the brim with high-ranking officials and other nobility, with everyone mingling together in a big glittering clump of bodies and puffy dresses and long hair. There’s no other race but elves there, which is usually expected at royal balls like these; other species are often relegated to roles of servant, cleaner, waiter, and so on.

There’s a notable stir when the King and Queen and the eight men enter, and the room parts down the middle to make room for them.

The men wave and smile and mingle like they’ve been taught to, though some revel in it a bit more than others. They’re quickly embraced by the crowd, and the Archduke and Archduchess come to greet them. A young woman walks slightly behind them, her brown hair pinned up in an elaborate updo, wisps of hair clinging around her elven ears. Doyoung remembers her as their daughter and only child, who was never allowed to play in the yard with them as children because “such rowdy behavior wasn’t fitting for a lady of her sensibilities,” as her mother used to say.

“I’m sure you all remember Eunomia,” the Archduke says, encouraging the young woman to come to the front. The brothers all nod in acknowledgement, answering her curtsy with their own bows.

“You’ve grown even prettier since we were young,” Jungwoo says, smiling politely. The girl smiles timidly back to him.

“Thank you. You’ve become quite handsome yourself.”

“We’re so glad that we could be graced with the presence of the Crown Prince of Ceres tonight,” the Archduke continues. “We’ve all been looking forward to your appearance since we got word of your family visiting Eupheme. The timing, especially, is quite extraordinary, as we’ve been vetting possible suitors for our Eunomia.” It’s everything just short of an actual proposition to marry his daughter, and Doyoung’s lips twitch as a thousand different thoughts flit through his mind.

Doyoung bows his head slightly in acknowledgement of their statement and schools his expression into something neutral and amiable. “Extraordinary timing, indeed.”

It’s not long before the music is rising to a grand swell again. The other boys part ways to search for dance partners in the crowd, and Doyoung already knows what’s expected of him. He holds his hand out to Eunomia. “Would you like to dance?”

She nods and takes his hand. Doyoung leads her onto the main dancefloor beside a few other individuals who have already coupled up. A relatively fast tune carries their feet across the floor like the wind.

Eunomia is pretty, nice, and quiet. She’s too shy to meet Doyoung’s eyes directly—no doubt as a result of her parents’ training—and she lets him lead the conversation the same way he leads their dance. She would make the perfect wife to any other man but him.

Doyoung might have been more willing to pursue something with her if this gathering had happened a year before or even a few months ago, before their visit to Eupheme. Now, he only feels uninterested at best—and burdened at worst—about it all. He’s uncomfortable with the way her hand sweats in his palm, and with how fragile she feels in his hold. His mind keeps drifting back to the forest, though he tries to be present in the here and now.

The next few dances go similarly. Though his brothers and cousins seem to be enjoying themselves with the number of pretty women they have at their behest, Doyoung doesn’t feel the same. He ends up approached by various noblemen throughout the night, all holding some prestigious rank or another and seeking to introduce him to their daughters and insinuate a dance. And of course, being the gentleman and prince he is, how can he say no?

Each of the women is unique in their own way, but still not quite enough to hold his attention for long. He’s already made his mind up about who he wants, though you can’t be with him here now—or anywhere but the forest, really. This knowledge is equal parts comforting and disagreeable. He finally has an answer to the question about whether he’d ever find someone to love, though it turns out he cannot even be with you in an easy, convenient way.

By the time the night ends and the royals are on their way back to the castle, Doyoung is rather tightly wound. His mind swarms with thoughts of everything that occurred earlier in the evening and how annoyed and restless it all made him. Increasingly, he’s beginning to feel like he’s up against a wall that he just can’t surmount. He almost yearns for the days when he unquestioningly accepted his duty and actually received some enjoyment from his courtships, but he’d never truly want to go back. Not if it meant not knowing you.

“Are you okay? You seem upset,” Mark says hesitantly, noticing Doyoung’s tensed jaw as he keeps his face turned towards the window, looking out at the nightscape. Doyoung only gives his brother a quick glance before nodding curtly.

“I’m quite alright.” It’s a lie, but Doyoung doesn’t feel like trying to explain his mood at the moment. Though it’s easy enough for them to guess why Doyoung’s visits to the forest have been so much more frequent over the past month or so—and subsequently, why his mood is so sour now—it remains an open secret.

Jaemin settles back in his cushioned seat, grinning slightly to himself before looking up at Doyoung. “Your name must be on many a lady’s dance card tonight, Doyoung. I suspect every woman at the party had a turn, if not the Archduchess herself.” Mark elbows him in the side, but the younger man doesn’t think anything of it.

“I suppose so.” Doyoung rubs his finger over his lower lip. “But maybe you should be more concerned that the competition is diminishing your chances.” Mark and Jungwoo chuckle at that.

“Not to worry. When the time comes, the only choice they’ll have is me.” The younger two laugh even more enthusiastically, and Doyoung only shakes his head, grinning slightly despite himself.

 Once everyone is settled in for the night, Doyoung waits in his bed for an hour to be safe and then decides to sneak out to see you. Once again, he doesn’t bother with visiting the stable to take the horse, nor does he try to make himself look “presentable,” tired of being princely for the night. The only thing he does is pull on his pants and shoes and button up his shirt halfway before losing his patience and yanking his cloak on.

He uses his glamor to momentarily disguise himself as he passes through Arthenia, though the few stragglers outside don’t pay him much mind.

“Y/N?” Doyoung calls out your name, slipping his cloak to the ground once he gets to your familiar oak tree. He soon hears and sees the fluttering of tree leaves as you descend from the canopy and touch the ground, alighting from the branches as gracefully as if you’ve been doing it your entire life—which you have.

“My, sir. Here at this hour again? What could b—” You don’t get to finish your sentence before Doyoung is gathering you up in his arms and kissing you hard, his forearms wrapped tight around your waist. He picks you up off the ground and you let yourself be lifted, toes barely grazing the grass.

It’s a long moment before you can regain your breath. You look at him incredulously as he sets you back on the grass, pressing his forehead to yours.

“What...what’s got you in such a state?”

“Love,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your lips. You laugh at that, holding his flushed face in your hands.

“It’s a pleasant thing, isn’t it? But really, what is it? You seem tense.”

“I am tense,” Doyoung says, though he keeps his lips close to yours. He’s not really in the mood to go into detail about the evening and disturb what’s currently unfolding between you. “It’s just...royal niceties. They can become quite tiring.”

“That’s a pity,” you reply, though you pause in your next thought when his lips find your jawline and press against it firmly. This is the most intimate contact you’ve had since you met, or since he confessed to you, and it ignites a burning flame in your chest. “Maybe there is something that can help you with that.”

Doyoung pulls back to look you in the eyes, wondering if you’re insinuating exactly what he thinks. You step away from him and tug on his hand, pulling him away from the tree. “I’ll show you.”

You both walk along a section of the forest that Doyoung isn’t familiar with, and he conjures some light orbs to illuminate the pathway. You spend a long time walking—so long that he’s almost afraid he won’t be able to find his way back out. Or maybe he’ll encounter one of those unfriendly creatures that you previously mentioned lives on the outskirts. Wherever you’re taking him is farther than he’s ventured before.

You finally stop when you get near the west edge of the forest. The trees are slightly sparser here, and there’s a path through the middle that trails off onto the bottom of a steep hill. The hill marks the end of the forest and flattens out onto a field of tall grass. He catches glimpses of the grass swaying in the breeze under the moonlight and the light of his own orbs.

That’s far from the most eye-catching thing here, though. Another lake sits before you two, though it’s much smaller than the other one—more like a pond—and forms a nearly perfect circle.

You walk along the grassy bank and pull Doyoung along with you, and he’s surprised to feel heat coming from the water as he gets nearer to it. It’s not a burning hotness, but a comfortable warmth.

“Shall we swim?” You look at Doyoung over your shoulder, letting go of his hand to tug at one strap of your dress. He nods, watching wordlessly as you peel your dress off in front of him. His throat tightens to see you’re wearing nothing underneath. Standing nude underneath the combined glow of the moon and his own blue light makes you look positively ethereal, and Doyoung mentally imprints this image in his mind, filing it away as a permanent memory.

He watches as you step off the grassy bank and get into the pond, the black water lapping at your legs as you wade further into it. He’s still standing and simply observing you as you turn around to look at him and lift your arms out of the water, like you’re asking for a hug. “Are you going to leave me all alone in here?” You give him your best pleading eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to strip his clothes off and come in after you.

He dips underneath the water’s surface and swims around you, and you giggle as you can just barely make out his form under the water. You can only spot the ripples he leaves behind.

Doyoung’s head pops above the water on the farther side of the pond, with his long black hair sticking to his face and covering his shoulders. It makes his ears stand out more, and you laugh. You swim over to him and he pulls you into him when you’re close enough, your naked bodies molding themselves to each other. You’re about to say something, but his lips quickly envelop yours and you forget any words you formerly had. You kiss for a while in the lake’s warm water, with the full moon and Doyoung’s lights serving as your only illumination.

You haven’t done much else but kiss so far, but you can still feel something hard and warm pressing into your stomach. Doyoung’s lips separate from yours to travel to your neck, pressing against your pulse point and softly sucking the skin there.

You pull away to look at him, your body feeling strangely light and hot all at the same time. “Maybe we should get out of the water,” you say, smiling coyly.

Doyoung nods and scoops you up, carrying you out of the lake and setting you down on the unnaturally soft grass surrounding the waters. It feels almost like a cotton blanket underneath you.

You’re both fully exposed in front of each other now, though you don’t really feel embarrassed about it. Doyoung’s hands are warm as he cups the sides of your face and nudges his nose against yours, teasing you momentarily with the promise of his lips before actually kissing you again.

You like feeling his hair underneath your palm, all wet and slick beneath your fingertips, and you run your fingers through the strands. They coil around his neck and shoulders like little snakes, or maybe vines on a climbing plant.

His member stands against his stomach, already leaking precum from the press of your lips and the warmth of your body against his. You reach out to touch him, tracing your fingertip against a vein and feeling the stickiness of the precum, and Doyoung sighs against your lips. His hands come to your inner thighs, pushing them a bit further apart so he can dip his fingers between them and feel you wet and warm for him.

You gasp sharply when he slides a finger into you. He reaches deeply inside you, his palm rubbing against your clit as he fingers you, and it makes you spread your legs wider and push your hips closer into his touch. You wrap your fingers around him, and you enjoy the pulse of his cock in your hand as you stroke him.

Doyoung soon slips another finger into you, stretching you out more for him, and you moan as he does. You press your mouth against the base of this throat and his collarbones, feeling the firmness of them as you lightly drag your teeth over them. As if by luck, he shifts his fingers a certain way and brushes against that sweet spot that has you leaning further into his body and moaning hotly against his neck.

“Doyoung…” you sigh. He gives you an answering moan as your fingertips slide over his tip, purposely lingering at the slit. Your lips brush against each other’s, not quite kissing but making some semblance of the motion. Despite how good you’re feeling now, with his hand working you up to an inescapable high, you decide you need to have more of him; you need to get as close as possible. “Doyoung, please.”

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice unbearably gentle and breathy in your ear.

“You.” You take your hand away from him to guide his body on top of yours, parting your legs to invite him in-between. You are less preoccupied with foreplay at the moment and just want him inside you, which he has no complaints about.

The firm press of him inside you is unlike anything you’ve felt in the recent past. It’s not like dryads go their entire lives without sexual pleasure—of course, there’s always self-pleasure and the company of other women, and even the occasional agreeable male visitor who comes into the forest—but it’s been a long time since you’ve experienced it delivered by another person’s body. It’s almost strange, but also good and familiar, if only a little painful at first.

You try to breathe evenly as Doyoung seats himself inside you, his hands stroking you so adoringly that it makes you lose your bearings. Him leaning forward to kiss you only takes more of your breath.

“Is this good for you?” he asks quietly. You’re not quite sure what part of it he’s referring to—him inside you or his hands strumming along your breasts and clit—but you nod enthusiastically. Everything he’s doing feels undeniably good. Just when you think it could not get any better, he pulls out a bit and starts thrusting into you. His pace is slow, allowing you to adjust, but it’s enough to make you cry out loud, gripping his slick shoulders for support.

Doyoung brings himself close to kiss your lips again, grinning against your mouth. “Shhh, my princess. If you’re too loud, you’ll wake all the others.”

You nod against his wet forehead, breathing heavily, though it’s a bit hard to keep yourself quiet as he fills your body over and over again. You press your thighs tight against his hips, feeling the muscles in his body flex as he thrusts into you. His movements create a slick sound between you, and the lewd quality of it entices you more.

While one of his hands slides slick and slow across your clit, you grasp the other and bring it up to your lips, kissing his fingers like you did the day he told you he loved you, and then nibbling on them, sucking them into your mouth. Doyoung twitches inside you when your mouth tightens around his fingers, and he groans into the night air. You’re reluctant to let his hand go, but you do it so he can leverage himself enough to dip his head lower and give more attention to your breasts, drawing his tongue across the round firmness of them and catching your nipples in his mouth.

He angles himself a bit differently so he can find your spot again and concentrates on repeatedly pushing into that sensitive part of you. His attentions bring you to your climax soon, and you can barely quiet yourself as you come around him. The pleasure seems never-ending, like it’s pouring into you from a bottomless well, and small tears bead at the corners of your eyes. Doyoung cups your face and kisses your tears away, and you hold the back of his head as he does.

When Doyoung gets close, he slips himself from inside you and thrusts in between the tight space of your thighs, his tip rubbing across your stomach. He comes soon after doing this, his seed pooling on your skin, some of it running into the grass.

You both lie in the grass after the aftermath, with Doyoung pulling you so you can lay your body on top of his. His heartbeat is still fast; you hear it hammering in his chest as you rest your head against his breast. You close your eyes and let the sound of it calm your own restless body.

After a few long moments of listening to the insects and night creatures making their midnight songs, you stir from your position on his chest and draw yourself up. “Doyoung…” you murmur, straddling either side of his waist so you’re hovering over him. You press your lips against his and he responds with a slow kiss. You can practically feel how satisfied he is as his lips push against yours, like a drunken sprite who’s gotten into a cup of ale.

You depart from his lips and trail your mouth over the rest of his body until you’re level with his softened cock. It jumps a bit when you grasp it, and Doyoung groans softly; his voice increases slightly when you press your lips to it, still tasting the remnants of his salty release and your own pleasure. His hand comes to hold the back of your head as you take him into your mouth, licking the shaft and feeling his balls in your other hand.

Though he was the one who’d hushed you earlier, now he has to choke back his own moans as you suck him and stroke your tongue around his tip.

You draw your mouth away from him, and a trail of spit follows your lips. “Does this feel good, my prince?” you ask, still stroking him languidly to keep his pleasure stoked. You know it does, but you want to hear it from his mouth anyway.

“So good.” He makes a noise between a whimper and a groan, and it travels straight to the apex of your thighs. His stomach tenses with his strained breaths as you take him back into your mouth, focusing your attention on the leaking slit.

His thighs tremble when he gets closer, and as much as you’d like to have him come in your mouth and drip over your chin, you decide to pull away and straddle your legs around his waist again. Doyoung whines needily, though his complaints are quickly forgotten when your sex slides over his slick shaft. He waits with bated breath as you grab the base of his member and line him up with your entrance, pushing him into you as you sink down on him. Feeling him part your walls makes your legs shake a little, and you readjust your posture so you can maintain your stability.

You seat yourself fully on top of Doyoung and let him press himself up into you as you push back down on him, your hands scraping for purchase on his chest. In this position, you can control the pace and ride him just so that his tip is pressing into your most sensitive spot.

Eventually, you lean forward with your mouth covering his. Another orgasm approaches you fast, and you pant against his lips as you search for that release again. “I love you,” you moan softly, trying to muffle your sounds with the touch of his lips.

Doyoung’s hands roam your body, coming up to palm your breasts and thumb at your nipples. “I adore you,” he whispers.

This time you both come within moments of each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. Doyoung pushes himself into you until you’re leaking over him once more, and then he hurriedly pulls out and comes across your thigh, leaving trails of white dripping down your skin.

Doyoung knows he’ll need to get up and get dressed at some point—and begin the long trek back to the castle—but he doesn’t think about that right now. He just pulls you closer and enjoys the warm stickiness of your bodies together, the lukewarm breeze stirring his hair, and the gentle grass tickling his skin.

“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”

Jungwoo brings this up to Donghyuck during one of their archery lessons as they sit beside each other underneath the sun. The younger man was noticeably not as concentrated or effortless as he’d usually be, and many of his arrows ended up being off-mark, if not missing their targets entirely.

Currently, they both sit in the grass after their instructor called for a break earlier, stating that they needed some time to cool off and pull it together—Donghyuck in particular.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck grumbles, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. If he could close his ears, too, he would. Unfortunately for him, his brother doesn’t take that as a sign to stop talking.

“That’s doubtful. Really, what’s chafing you? I know all the lessons can be annoying, but there is nothing we can do about that for now.” The younger man doesn’t answer at all this time, but Jungwoo continues on. “I know Doyoung isn’t with us during our breaks as often as he was before, but isn’t that a good thing? He can’t tell us what to do all the time.”

Donghyuck groans, wiping his hands over his face at the mention of their older brother. Jungwoo perks up at this. “Oh? Is it something with Doyoung that’s bothering you? What is it?”

Donghyuck is quiet for a moment longer. When it’s clear Jungwoo won’t leave the matter alone, he turns to face his brother fully, looking at him more closely. He hesitates for a moment before finally saying, “What would you do if you wanted something you couldn’t have?”

Jungwoo thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. It depends on what it is. Maybe the logical answer would be to just give it up and stop indulging a fruitless case.”

Donghyuck sighs, hanging his head. “Of course. But what if...alright, what if it was a person? Someone you’re particularly fond of. And…they just make you feel as if…if they looked at you once, you wouldn’t hesitate to hand them anything they could ever want. Then would you give up on them so easily?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen, and Donghyuck thinks he must’ve said too much. Before he can speak to try to defuse the situation, Jungwoo says, “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about Nayeon. I’m sorry Donghyuck, but—”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck pushes himself to his feet, taking up his bow and arrow again and walking off to one of the targets farther away from Jungwoo. “Nevermind.”

After Donghyuck gives a few more unsuccessful tries, the instructor decides to dismiss them early and encourages Donghyuck to keep his head clear for their next session. “I am well aware of what you’re capable of, Donghyuck, and I know you understand your own abilities. Just look at it as simply having an off day, but do try to keep your concentration next time.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, already feeling drained even though they’re only halfway through the day. The walk back to the castle with Jungwoo is quiet, though crossing the ample landscape gives him plenty of time to think to himself. What you’re capable of...Yes. What is he capable of?

Maybe there was still a way to alter the course.

“You’re particularly quiet today,” you remark, studying Doyoung’s face. You’re both sitting in the small clearing where you and the other dryads often gather at night, only it’s daytime now and the other girls are off doing their own things. Deeper among the woods, you can hear their laughter from a distance.

Doyoung came to visit you with a solemn look, and though you can tell he is still glad to see you, there’s also a tinge of disquiet beneath it.

A strong gust blows some strands of hair into his face, and you brush them away before he can do it himself. He turns his head and stares at you as you do, his eyes big and imploring and brewing with a distress you can’t place. “Actually, you seem to be a bit different since...that night,” you continue. Your face warms at the thought of your first time together, and how Doyoung took you in the grass and whispered sweet adoration to you. “Is something wrong?”

Doyoung’s lips part like he wants to speak, though he remains silent for a few moments more. Then he says something that nearly makes your heart stop, the words coming slow off his tongue. “I want to give up my title.”

“Your title? As Crown Prince? How can you do that?”

“I could do it,” he says, his voice still low. “There’s no law against it. It might be...dishonorable. No, it would certainly not be…” He pauses, then abandons whatever he was about to say. “But there’s no law to stop me.”

“But why? I thought you liked being royalty, at least to some degree. Your station in life affords you many things others don’t have.”

“It doesn’t afford me you.” He grasps your hand where it lies in the grass. “We can’t be together if I’m still Crown Prince. If I walk away, though...”

You’re also quiet now, unsure how to respond to a declaration like this. For Doyoung to give up his royal title for you...it’s a much bigger implication than you think he’s really considering.

“But, the throne...you’re the heir, and it just…” You’re almost desperate to come up with at least 100 reasons why he can’t do it, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe you’re too afraid to hope it could be possible, even if it’s the slightest chance.

“I have six other brothers. Any one of them could...” Doyoung falters, remembering Yuta’s and Sicheng’s controversial parentage, and then sighs but tries to remain hopeful. You look at him with wrinkled brows, worry crowding your heart. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, looping his arm with yours.

“I don’t know if they’d ever agree to it,” you say it almost inaudibly.

“There’s no way to know if we don’t try…” Doyoung replies, hugging you tightly to him. “I don’t care about giving up my title.”

You shake your head. “There are so many other things to consider, Doyoung.”

Doyoung knows you’re worried and doubtful, but he holds you close to him and kisses your temple and tries not to think about those things. He only wants to think about all the good things the future could hold for you.

A small grin appears on his face as he wills his mind to drift elsewhere. “How many children would you like to have?” Doyoung asks suddenly. You give him an incredulous look, though there is a grin of your own slowly taking over your lips.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want children.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “As long as I’ve been on this Earth, I’d have them by now if I wanted them.”

“Then it’d be just the two of us forever?” Doyoung pulls you so you’re both lying down and entangles himself with you, his head on your chest. He listens to your heart, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a sense of sleepiness. “That’s fine with me.”

You feel a tug at your heart, like the chambers are contracting in pain. “Yes, an eternity together.”

Despite your many doubts and questions, you have a warm dream that night. One of you and Doyoung living in the forest together, running through the hills, jumping across creeks, and enjoying each other’s company to your heart’s content.

Donghyuck knocks on the door of the King’s sitting room, his palms sweating as he waits for a response. Sicheng stands beside him, quiet and waiting to see if the man will respond. The King of Eupheme may be a long-term friend of their father’s, but Donghyuck can’t help the slight fear he feels whenever he’s in the man’s presence. Something about him has always been a little colder, more unforgiving, and more unyielding than their own father is.

“Who is it?” The man’s voice booms from behind the door.

“It...it’s Donghyuck and Sicheng, Your Highness.” Donghyuck’s voice wavers a bit as he speaks, and he tries to suppress the tremors in his speech. “We’re here for our...meeting.”

“Come in, then.”

Donghyuck turns the doorknob and enters the room, closing the heavy door behind him and his brother.

“Well, then. What is the pressing matter you have to inform me of?” The King raises one eyebrow, looking skeptical about whether Donghyuck has anything to report or not, though he waits patiently for the boy’s response.

The elven King’s presence seems impossibly heavier in this singular room, filling every corner of the space and physically weighing down the Earth’s gravity. Donghyuck almost doesn’t know what to do with himself in response to this force. Sicheng is less affected by it—or better at hiding it—though his face creases minutely. Donghyuck ends up speaking without thinking clearly about what he practiced prior.

“D…Doyoung is courting a dryad.”

“A...what, boy?” The King slowly leans forward, his sharp eyebrows drawing together, one hand coming up to stroke his long beard. They both know that he knows full well what a dryad is, but he seems unable to comprehend what Donghyuck has just blurted out. Or maybe he thinks the younger man is lying.

“A-a dryad, Your Highness. He’s been using his assigned free time—and sneaking out at night—every week to see her, in the forest beyond Arthenia. H…he’s even thinking of asking to be relieved from his title to be with her.” Donghyuck feels sweat gathering on the back of his neck, as if he’s the one about to be punished.

The King’s brows furrow even more, though this time his eyes hold a hint of rising anger. He leans back in his seat again, holding Donghyuck and Sicheng with a hard stare. “These are quite damning claims to make. Where is your proof?” Before either one can respond, the King continues on. “He will doubtless be questioned, but I would think that both of you have ample reason to try to sabotage the Crown Prince—especially you.” He directs his gaze to Sicheng at this, and Sicheng’s face falters. “A whore’s son will always believe he’s owed more than he’s worth.”

Disgust and hatred rises up in Sicheng’s chest at being regarded like this—always as less than his half-brothers—though he tries not to let his rage show. His jaw clenches as he speaks, keeping his tone measured, and it takes him a long moment to force out a proper response. “We indeed have proof…Your Highness.”

“If you’ll allow us, we need a mirror, Your Highness,” Donghyuck adds.

Still with a skeptical look on his face, the King waves his hand towards a small round mirror hanging on the east wall, sitting formerly unacknowledged despite all its ornate trappings. Sicheng walks over and takes it off the wall, coming back to stand in front of the King with it. Donghyuck comes up behind Sicheng and lays a hand on the back of the older man’s neck, pressing his index and middle finger where his brain stem would be. Donghyuck closes his eyes and concentrates, while Sicheng keeps his own eyes open, staring into the depths of the mirror and his own reflection.

In the mirror image, his eyes turn a foggy gray. Donghyuck’s memories flood into his mind as if they were his own, experienced with his own five senses; he can almost smell the forest grass and feel the sun burning his skin. Sicheng then takes his right hand and presses his fingertips against the mirror, forcing it to bend to his power and replicate what he’s seeing in his mind’s eye.

When the image becomes steady, Sicheng holds the mirror up to the King and lets him see what it displays; you and Doyoung lying in the grass together, with you dragging a tiny blue flower across his lips. Doyoung tilting his head up to accept your kiss. You looking straight ahead, trying to figure out why you sense a disturbance in the forest, only to see a deer—and missing the invisible form of Donghyuck staring at you and your lover from the bushes. Your conversation is hard to hear, consisting of mostly vague echoes, as if you were speaking underwater—channeling sounds is harder than conjuring up images—but there’s no need for words to understand what’s going on.

The King’s eyes are a windstorm of emotions at this point, a close rival to the actual stormy gray of Sicheng’s eyes as he reveals the memory. He is silent for an excruciatingly long moment. Still, he continually strokes his beard in a repetitive motion, though his gaze displays the true anger burning beneath the surface.

“And where is Doyoung right now?” he finally asks, after it seems like an eon has passed. Then he waves his hand sharply towards the mirror. “I’ve seen enough of that.”

“He has no duties to attend to as of right now, so he must’ve gone to the forest,” Sicheng responds. Donghyuck takes his hand away from his neck then, stepping back in a jerky motion as he tries to regain some of the energy spent from transferring the memory. Likewise, the mirror image fades once Sicheng takes his hand away from the glass, and the normal brown of his irises bleeds back into his eyes. “To see her again, no doubt.”

The King nods, pressing his fingers together into a steeple, his thick rings glinting in the light of the room. “Just as you say, the matter is quite grave. The King and Queen of Ceres will have to be notified immediately...and it will be handled accordingly.”

Donghyuck and Sicheng nod to the King’s statement, shooting each other looks out of the corners of their eyes. Donghyuck feels a small sense of triumph at knowing his brother will likely be sent back to Ceres soon—or at least, forbidden to see you anymore—even if he knows deep within that he shouldn’t be reveling in Doyoung’s impending heartbreak like this.

“Unfortunately, it also cannot be forgotten that you two, and all your other brothers, withheld this information for months.” The King blinks slowly. “I must also assume that my sons have been swept up in concealing this utter nonsense, to some degree. Those transgressions will be dealt with accordingly as well.” He draws the last sentence out to emphasize his claim, though the men have already heard him clearly. The tiny smirks they allowed themselves to show quickly fade.

Donghyuck feels as if he’s just had a bucket of cold water poured down his back, and Sicheng’s fists curl tightly around the mirror.

Donghyuck is the first to respond, bowing his head. “A-as necessary, Your Highness.” Sicheng lowers his own head after the younger does, though with noticeable reluctance.

The King waves his hand as a signal for the two men to leave, though he still looks thoughtful for reasons neither of them could guess. “You are both dismissed.”

Sicheng is fuming once they leave the sitting room, though Donghyuck’s anxiety manifests itself as tense silence, which is a true rarity for him.

“Look what your impulsiveness has gotten us into this time,” Sicheng gripes once they’re far enough away to not be heard. Donghyuck reawakens at that and shoots his brother daggers with his gaze.

“I didn’t think we’d get punished, too! And if you thought it was such a bad idea, you should’ve never agreed to it!”

Sicheng shakes his head, scoffing. “It’s neither here nor there anymore. Whatever comes of this had better be worth it.”

“You’d better hope,” Donghyuck continues. “Like we don’t know you’d sell us all out to have Yuta, your favorite brother, as the Crown Prince instead of Doyoung.”

Sicheng whips back around to Donghyuck. “I’d think he’d deserve it more than any of you ingrates who’ve had everything handed to you. You could never even imagine what it’s like to have to fight and scrape for an iota of respect among your own family.”

Donghyuck wants to scream something childish and hurtful back at him, but he’s lost on what to say. They all know Sicheng and Yuta have always been a bit separate from the rest of them despite their best efforts to make them feel included, but he hadn’t realized Sicheng felt quite this forsaken. The King’s earlier words certainly don’t help. Donghyuck has enough conscience left to feel guilty, though he refuses to acknowledge that aloud now.

When Sicheng sees that Donghyuck doesn’t have a response, he nods in vindication and stomps off.

After Doyoung returns to the castle that afternoon, the atmosphere in the castle is notably more tense. It’s as if storm clouds have gathered in the rafters, waiting for the perfect time to rain down hell. He senses this acutely, though he can’t quite understand the reasoning for it.

Donghyuck is uncharacteristically quiet today, and Sicheng is similarly reserved. Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin conduct their business as usual, though there is a certain stiffness to their auras; the kind of careful and cautious demeanor you learn to adopt when living under the constant presence of a ticking timebomb. Mark and Jungwoo, who accompanied Doyoung on his visit to Arthenia and the forest, remain just as clueless as him about what’s wrong, though they also feel uncomfortable underneath the weight of the tension.

The air stays this way for hours, including during their nightly dinner. The Queen and King don’t do or say anything out of the ordinary, though Doyoung can feel the King’s eyes on him as he eats. The sensation of being watched makes his stomach curl into a ball, and his heart kicks up like a drum at the thought that pops into his mind. Maybe he’s been found out? But how? He’s been as careful as he knows how to be. He doesn’t truly believe any of his brothers would tell, and his cousins have been too disinterested in the affair to go stirring up trouble behind it.

Their three cousins eat quietly with their eyes glued to their plates, wondering what could be the cause of their father’s anger this time. They’ve known him long enough to pick up on the telltale signs of his rage, even when not openly expressed.

It’s nothing short of a relief when dinner is finally over, though Doyoung’s blood turns to lead when he hears the King’s deep voice booming from behind him. “Doyoung. Come with me.” The other men shoot him varying looks as they file out of the dining room, though none of them say a word. Donghyuck throws him a concerned glance in an attempt to remain unsuspecting, though there is a slight unsteadiness in his step.

By the time he gets to the King’s sitting room, Doyoung’s heart is beating overtime. He stands in front of the older man with his spine ramrod straight and his lips tucked into a thin line. The King doesn’t even acknowledge his presence for a few moments, simply stroking his beard and looking at some spot in the distance. Doyoung can’t decide if this is worse than being pinned under his gaze or not, though he quickly gets his answer when the King finally looks at him.

“Do you understand your position as Crown Prince?” This is not what he expected to hear first, though it fails to ease his anxiety.

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s a high honor, and one that requires a certain discipline.”

“Then why have you allowed yourself to become quite so undisciplined in your activities?”

Doyoung doesn’t know how to respond to this at first. He blinks rapidly and sweat breaks out over his skin. “Activities?” he stammers out, his mouth drying up.

“You’ve allowed yourself to be enamored by a woman who is so low she must live in the forest like an animal and forage for food. And you think this behavior is becoming of a man of your station?”

The room appears to spin. If his heart was hammering before, now it stops momentarily. Doyoung feels like he’s just smashed into a stone wall head-on. “Your Highness...I…”

“Have you lain with this creature?”

“Sh-she’s not...I…”

“Have you? Do not lie.”

Doyoung thinks of your hands on him and feels sick at such an intimate moment being forced out into the open like this, in such a cruel manner. “Y…yes.”

The King shakes his head, his frown deepening even more, if that’s possible. “And is there any chance that she could be with child now?”

Doyoung can’t remember ever feeling this humiliated, flayed open for all to see. “No. I was...careful.” The King pauses for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe Doyoung’s claim. He doesn’t ask any further questions about it, though, and Doyoung doesn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved about that.

“Understand that you are infinitely lucky that you are not a woman, Doyoung, and can remain relatively unsullied by such acts. Nevertheless, I would’ve thought your father would’ve raised more diligent sons than this.” The King leans forward, and it seems like the Earth itself shifts with this movement.

“Then let one of the others have my title,” Doyoung blurts out, finally finding his voice again. “Yuta or Jaehyun. It doesn’t matter who it is.”

“Yuta isn’t getting anything,” the King spits. “Do you mean to make a complete mockery of your family? Your kingdom? To have a bastard sitting on the throne? Your father is a noble man, but laying with whores has resulted in the two biggest mistakes of his life.”

Doyoung’s head swims, and he has to bite back the first response that rises to his mind. “Your Highness, you’re correct in noting that I’ve made a grave error. Perhaps I’m truly not suited for the role. Don’t you think having my title transferred would be the best way to remedy that? Jaehyun is fit to be the Crown Prince. He can take my title, and I—”

“And you can do what? Live in the forest with the rest of the dregs?” The King draws himself up in his chair, and the action reminds Doyoung of a big brown bear attempting to intimidate a trespasser in its territory. His muscles turn rigid with fear. “It would behoove you to abandon this insane talk if you don’t wish to make the consequences worse for yourself. I’m not your father, boy, but as long as he’s left you under my care, I won’t entertain such dishonor on his behalf. ”

Doyoung wants to continue protesting but also knows that, just like you told him, this appears to be a fruitless case. He lowers his head as his stomach twists and his body tenses up further with the fear of what will come next.

“As you can expect, there will be no more visits to the village or the forest, if you can exercise no more self-control than this.”

Doyoung blinks rapidly, though there are no tears coming. “Will you send me away?”

“That would only draw more attention, which is the last thing we need to do. You are simply to remain in the castle until it’s time for you all to return to Ceres. Barring any more royal events, you will not be going anywhere further than the front lawn.”

Doyoung says nothing to this. To speak or nod would feel like sealing his own fate, though it’s already been chosen for him.

“You are lucky, Doyoung. Remember that. It is easier than you think for all of this to be forgotten, swept under the rug, so you can return to your homeland with your title and dignity intact. See—we do not even need to let your mother and father know. In a year from now, you will be wed, and this will be nothing but a regretful—if vague—memory.”

Still, Doyoung does not respond, his tongue heavy and immobile.

“You are your family’s honor. The consequences will not be as harsh for you...as long as you obey.” The King’s body relaxes now, as if all the day’s tension has suddenly unwound itself, though this is more of a false sense of security than any true calm. “Is that understood?”

Doyoung’s throat burns. It seems like he’s being pressed in on all sides. Not answering the King is not an option. Not seeing you again is not an option, either, if he wishes to preserve any iota of happiness on this Earth. Here it comes, now—the wetness gathering in his eyes and the tightening of his chest.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

It has only been a few days since Doyoung last saw you, but this alone feels like centuries to him, especially with the King’s order trailing him like a cement block tied to his leg.

He doesn’t intend on following it, regardless of the consequences. Maybe he’s not thinking straight anymore, but nothing else matters as much as you to him now.

There isn’t any way to easily get to you, though, considering the guards that have been stationed outside his room every night. And the other guards who follow him around the castle nearly 24/7 now. His glamors only grant him enough leeway to disguise his face, which is no use in making it out of his doorway undetected.

The stress of it all nearly makes him physically sick.

His brothers and cousins are not guarded quite so constantly as he, but they are similarly forbidden from leaving the castle—lest they try to report back to you with a message from Doyoung, or something similar.

Doyoung still does not know how the King found out and has had no free opportunity to question his brothers and cousins about it. In the back of his mind, though, the idea that he could’ve been betrayed lives constantly among his thoughts. Thinking on it for too long makes the back of his mouth taste sour, but he can’t help the festering sense of distrust he feels towards everyone around him.

Frayed and at his wit’s end, Doyoung finally thinks of an idea after an entire week of missing your presence. It’s a lot to ask for and may not work, but he needs to at least try it once before ruling it out. He has to be careful about it, of course, to avoid being found out by any of the watchful guards. Still, he manages to write a note during an etiquette lesson with his brothers, when the guards are standing outside the room. It’s easy enough to disguise his pen’s movements as him simply taking notes.

When the instructor looks down to read something from his book—squinting harshly even in his glasses, for his lack of sight—Doyoung slips the piece of paper to Mark. Mark gives him a questioning glance, though he says nothing. He only opens the note towards the end of the lesson, which is probably for the best because he makes a startled noise after reading it. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by the instructor who is too busy listening to Sicheng answer a question he just asked him. Mark’s eyes burn into the side of Doyoung’s face, though the older man only gives him a sparing glance and returns his attention to his papers.

 Mark and Doyoung don’t get to talk formally until their next set of archery lessons. Only one of Doyoung’s guards is present that day, and he hangs back far enough outside of the archery range that it’d be difficult to hear their conversation, especially with them talking in low tones. Doyoung is the first one to initiate once their archery teacher becomes preoccupied with showing Jungwoo and Jaemin the technique for a trick shot.

He glances over at Mark after letting his arrow fly, then turns slightly toward him as he grabs another from his quiver. “Mark.”

The younger man’s eyes widen a bit at hearing his name called. “What?” he answers full-voiced, which causes Doyoung to give him a glare. Catching onto what’s going on, Mark throws an anxious glance behind them to the guard and to his left to the instructor, but no one pays him any mind.

“The note.”

Mark makes a face as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then quickly tries to relax his expression. “Doyoung, I don’t think…is this really a good idea?”

“I need to see her, Mark,” Doyoung hisses.

Mark’s eyebrows crease. He takes a moment to shoot his arrow at the target, not wanting to come off as suspicious to the others by just standing there. “I’ve never created a portal like…between Donghyuck’s room and mine, back at our castle? Yes, that’s perfectly fine. But from here all the way to the forest? That’s…” The younger man shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You have to try,” Doyoung begs. “Practice it or something. All you need to do is create one to get to my room, and then to the forest. I don’t care if it takes you a while, as long as I can see her again before we have to go back.” He does care, but at this point, he figures it’s better to have something than nothing.

Mark gives Doyoung a long look, shakes his head again, and then nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

Doyoung presses his lips together and nods. His eyes are desperate, though he tries not to be. “It’s okay. Just try, Mark.”

Mark spends the next few days in the library in-between lessons. Though he hasn’t taken much interest in this part of the castle before now, he finds himself pouring through old, dusty books in search of something that can help him find a way to create a long-distance portal.

One of the books he finds describes simply just concentrating all your energy into your hands and putting it forth to open up a rip in space—which he is already capable of, but that doesn’t help him with projecting it out further. Another contains a weird chanting verse that he tries to pronounce, to no avail. Even if it did work, he wouldn’t know how to say it.

However, he eventually happens upon something that catches his eye.

“The Root Chakra serves as the foundation of your body and soul. Only when you are firmly grounded in your current body, space, and time can you begin to manipulate other spaces in time…whether it concerns generating long-range portals through space manipulation or even accessing different moments in history.”

“Opening the Root Chakra, huh?” Mark laughs to himself quietly and shakes his head. Despite being a magic user since birth, along with the rest of his brothers, this is the first time he’s heard anything of the sort. But it’s better later than never to learn.

Perhaps he’s more invested in this scheme than he should be, for both his and his brother’s sakes, but he also knows that he hasn’t seen Doyoung so fulfilled and joyful since discovering the forest. If his efforts can make a bit of difference in Doyoung’s current sunken mood, Mark is willing to try.

Therefore, he sets to work on “opening” this purported Chakra, keeping his practice to late-night hours to ensure he won’t be walked in on by anyone else. He feels a bit awkward at first, maybe even a little foolish, with “meditating” and trying to reach out to some strange energy inside himself. He’s never had to put much thought into creating portals before; it’s just something that happens as he wills it. He never considered that there might be more to the practice—that he’d need to tap into some kind of extra energy to improve his skills. He thinks back to the magic crystals in the marketplace and wonders if they’d be any help in this situation, though there’s no way of finding out.

Mark practices opening portals within the floor, knowing his room is above an empty guest room, as it’s too risky to try any of the walls; Jisung and Jungwoo sleep in the rooms on either side of him. He is soon able to make his portals wider than before—where they used to be the width of only his palms—which allows him to peer more clearly into the empty room below, though he still hasn’t tried to conjure anything farther away than that.

Once he feels he has more control over his energy, Mark soon begins experimenting with visualization, a technique the book cites for conjuring up long-distance locations. Allowing his energy to concentrate in his hands, he places his palms just above the floor of his room and pictures a place he’s fairly familiar with by now—the library. If it goes as planned, he’ll have created a portal to the library; if not…who knows what will be on the other side.

He feels the energy flow through his body, from his core, up his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms…it gathers in his palms and fingertips and triggers a small rip in time, which he gradually coaxes open wider, all the while visualizing the library as clearly as he can. Mark pushes the portal open a bit wider still and opens his eyes slightly to see if it’s worked. He’s dismayed, however, when he still sees the empty guest room sitting below him. A heavy sigh leaves his body, and it pushes the rest of his energy out with it; the portal closes with a silent snap.

Guess he’ll just have to try again.

The next few tries work similarly, and on those nights, he often ends up climbing into bed feeling discouraged and sapped of strength and wondering if he’ll ever get it, or if any of this is worth it. He keeps at it, though, for Doyoung’s benefit. And also partly because he’s curious to see what he’s capable of; now that he’s opened these floodgates, he needs to see how far he can push himself.

The first real hint of success takes him by surprise. It doesn’t happen quite as cleanly or perfectly as the book says, but something happens. When Mark opens his eyes that time, he’s still looking at the guest room—but now there appears to be a faint afterimage of the library merged with it, as if someone had tried to paint two different pictures at once. It’s not a complete location shift by any means, and he doesn’t try to go into the portal—afraid he might somehow get stuck between two realities—but it’s a start.

Improving on that start requires a little more time. More hours of meditating, reading, pushing his energy out and expanding it, visualizing. The afterimage begins growing clearer all the while.

On one blessed night, Mark opens his eyes, and the library itself is sitting below him. Not a faint representation of it, merged with some other room of the castle, but the actual library. He’s so surprised that he almost closes the portal by accident and has to steady his concentration to keep the energy flowing. Carefully, he sticks one hand through it. Then the other. It is still hard to keep the entrance open without physically guiding it with his hands, but he can manage it for a minute or two.

He looks at the long distance beneath him to the floor, with nothing but a lounge sofa to break his landing. Sweat breaks out on his skin, but he takes a moment to steel himself and take a deep breath. Then, he jumps through the portal feet-first, bouncing clumsily onto the sofa and tumbling onto the floor. Just as quick as he can right himself, he hurries behind the sofa to hide, afraid he might’ve alerted one of the guards with his rough landing. The portal has already closed above him with the loss of directed energy.

Mark waits for what feels like forever, his legs burning from holding the crouch, but no one comes. When he’s positive it’s safe, he places his hands on the floor and this time tries to create a portal back to his room. The spacetime-rip flickers briefly as if it won’t work, and a surge of panic rises in him, but soon it displays the sight of his bed and the nightstands on either side. A sigh of relief leaves him, and he jumps through the portal as smoothly as he can, landing on his bed this time.

Now, he is ready. He hopes.

The end of September—and the end of their stay in Eupheme—approaches. By that time, it has been weeks since you and Doyoung have seen each other. The one bright spot, though, lies with Mark.

Mark passes Doyoung a note during another of their etiquette lessons. The older man doesn’t wait to open it, though he keeps a watchful eye on the instructor as he does.

I think I’ve done it. Let’s try tonight.

Doyoung sucks in a breath and slowly lets it back out. Then, he crumbles the piece of paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. He gives Mark a small nod, and Mark returns it before facing the teacher again as if nothing has happened.

Even though Doyoung had already given Mark instructions for how to create the portal, he is a bit unsure what to expect that night. He sits on the edge of his bed fully clothed, his hands clasped nervously together as his eyes dart all around the room, wondering where Mark will show up at.

He soon gets his answer when a teal ring of light manifests itself on the east wall of his room. It remains small only for a few moments before widening out enough to accommodate Mark’s form as he steps through it. Mark himself looks a bit shocked at what he’s just accomplished, even though he’s been doing it for a good amount of time now. Doyoung leaps up from the bed, about to speak, though he winces and remembers they still need to be mindful of the guards outside his door.

“You really did it,” Doyoung whispers, watching in awe as Mark closes the portal to his own room behind him.

“I did,” Mark affirms, and he can’t help but grin a little. However, his smile slips. “There is one thing, though.”

Doyoung’s stomach drops, and he can only imagine what this caveat will be. “What is it?”

“Well, once I’ve created the portal, I’ll have to keep it open,” Mark says. “Otherwise, I won’t know when you’re coming back…since we can’t communicate. But…I’ll only be able to keep energy flowing into it for about 15 minutes, maybe less, so…”

“…so make it quick. Right?” Doyoung replies. He is not surprised. Not because of any lack in Mark’s abilities, but more because this just seems to be the kind of luck that’s afflicted him as of late. Mark nods sheepishly.

“Just…be aware of the time,” Mark says, giving Doyoung an apologetic look. The older man only nods silently and steps back as he lets the younger do his work. Mark walks over to the wall he just came from and places his palms against it, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and concentrating. He holds the image of the forest entrance in his mind’s eye and shifts the power out from his hands and to the wall, opening up a gap in space as the portal widens.

Doyoung’s heart rate picks up as he sees that familiar forest entrance forming in front of him, still crowded with overgrowth and greenery. He steps over to Mark to see it closer, and he can even feel the cool night air brushing past his skin as he peers in.

Mark opens his eyes and nods for Doyoung to go on, and the older gives him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Indeed, the forest on the other side is the exact same one he’s been visiting for the entire summer. The same dirt underneath his feet, the same trees crowding each other in. For that reason, he doesn’t waste any more time with rushing inside, heading straight for the oak tree.

There’s an indignant sentence waiting on your lips when you hear Doyoung crashing into your forest late that night, not having seen him in weeks. You’re hurt, but you also realize there must be something serious going on back at the castle if it’s taken him this long to get back to you. However, the words die when you see the pure anguish on his face as he bursts out of the vegetation.

You slip out of the oak tree to meet him on the ground, and he scoops you in his arms like he did all those weeks ago, though this passion is now charged with fear. “Doyoung, what’s happened? What’s the matter? What has kept you so long?” you ask worriedly, taking his face in your hands.

Doyoung holds you close and simply buries his face in the front of your dress for a long moment, breathing in your scent and absorbing the warmth of your skin. Though you are terrified and confused, you wait for him to calm himself enough to speak to you.

“I can’t anymore,” he says, his voice low and broken. Your heart drops at this.

“Can’t what?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“The King has forbidden me to come here—I shouldn’t be here now, but Mark...Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You hold Doyoung tighter against you, as if you could both become one being if you concentrated hard enough—wished hard enough. Your head throbs with the hurt of it, and your heart feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. You don’t say anything for a while, biting your lip so hard that it nearly bleeds.

“I tried.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. I tried.”

“There’s no one to blame,” you argue, breathless from the vise pinching your heart and lungs. “I think we both knew how this would end…”

“I don’t want it to be this way. Y/N, forgive me. I should’ve never told you anything…perhaps if I’d kept my feelings to myself, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. You could live happily as you were, and I—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I wouldn’t trade our time together for any living being…not even the gods.” You shake your head as tears begin to slip down your cheeks. Doyoung tries to wipe them away, though tears of his own escape without his permission. “It may be selfish, but…I-I just ask that…p-please don’t forget about me when you leave and start your own family.”

Doyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses your head into his chest. “I could never,” he whispers.

He thinks he’s safe in your arms, and you safe in his. That’s what he’d like to believe, as you sit here together in the forest for the last time. Unbeknownst to him, something in the castle stirs and then bursts to life, violent and red-hot with rage.

Mark, on the other side of the portal, waits. He feels his energy weakening the longer he holds it open, but he does so anyway as nervous sweat gathers on his temples. He wants to call out to Doyoung to somehow warn him of the time limit, but remembers that the guards will hear it if he does. So he remains silent and waits impatiently as the end of the 15 minutes approaches.

However, he can’t wait any longer as the time ticks past. His magic flickers once, as does the portal, before disappearing completely. Mark nearly keels over at the loss of energy and has to catch himself as quietly as possible, bracing his shaking hands against the floor. He pushes himself up a bit and sits on his knees. He thinks desperately to himself, I should make another portal, but he doesn’t have enough energy for that at the moment.

The next move he makes is a costly one.

He reaches into his pants pocket for his pocketwatch, which he remembered to bring with him. He intends to see how far it is past the time they’d agreed Doyoung would come back, and how long it might take him to regain enough strength for another portal, but his shaky hands cause him to drop the small watch. He tries to grab the chain, but the movement is too sudden and clumsy and causes the watch to bounce even farther away from him, skittering clear off the rug and onto the hardwood floor.

Mark swears all his organs stop functioning at once when he hears a knock on the door. It’s quiet at first, and the silence is deafening. He thinks about scurrying up into the bed and lying there to pretend like he’s Doyoung, still asleep and not out in the forest, but his legs are locked with fear and lingering weakness. The second knock is more forceful, and the guard doesn’t wait for much longer before jamming his key in the lock and swinging the door open.

Mark whips his head around, and they both stare at each other dumbstruck for a moment. The guard’s gaze lingers at Mark in confusion, then quickly sweeps over to the empty bed. His eyebrows draw into a furious expression. “Where is the Crown Prince?”

Doyoung’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought of returning to Ceres without you, his brothers going on with their lives as normal despite his own secret heartache—and it’s only then that he realizes he’s lost track of the time. He jerks away from your arms, looking around frantically. “Wait—Mark.”

“Mark?” you repeat, confused.

“I…he made a portal so I could get here, but I was supposed to…shit. Come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and you both rush to the forest entrance. When you get there, though, there’s no portal and no Mark. Doyoung’s grip around your hand tightens. 

Though you aren’t totally sure what’s going on, a sudden dread overcomes you. “What happened to it?”

“He probably had to close it, but…I’m sure he’ll open it again once he gets his energy back.” Doyoung’s voice is uncertain, though, like he’s trying to convince you both. You look at the side of his face and try not to voice your fears, but as you both stand there waiting to see if the portal will reappear, it becomes apparent that something has went wrong with the plan.

“Explain yourself.”

“Your Highness…I…um…” Mark’s mouth is too dry for him to properly form words, and his legs shake where he stands. Not because of having his energy sapped—because of the King’s overbearing presence. The King stands in front of him, not even bothering to go to his desk this time, and Mark has to crane his neck a bit to look at him, though he can’t meet his eyes. “It was just…”

“I won’t ask again.”

Mark shakes his head and pulls at his hair, silently begging Doyoung for forgiveness in his mind. Still, he doesn’t say anything to give his brother up, keeping his eyes averted more out of fear than deference. “Please, Your Highness…I just…”

When the King sees that Mark won’t give a direct answer, he scoffs in disgust, sweeps the younger man out of the way, and heads for the door. Though Mark only moves a few inches, he feels like he might as well have been thrown clear across the room. The King speaks to one of Doyoung’s guards, who was standing just behind Mark. “Call the rest of the guards. I’ve exhausted my patience on the matter; these lecherous whores cannot be allowed to continue defiling my kingdom.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” Mark’s small voice is lost to the air as the King leaves the room without a glance backwards. The guard goes to enact his order, while the other one grips Mark tightly by the upper arm and drags him out of the sitting room. “N-no, wait, what’s about to happen?”

The guard yanks Mark’s arm in a gesture that calls for the questioning to come to an end. “Best keep quiet, boy. You and the Crown Prince have gotten yourself into enough shit tonight.” Then he chuckles. “One of these days, he was bound to find out that everyone won’t keep coddling him and wiping his ass. About to lose his title over some pussy. Quite sad, isn’t it?”

The guard’s words—and the realization that none of them have ever really cared about Doyoung’s wellbeing beyond being his hired watchdogs—sets Mark off. “Shut the fuck up!” Mark spits in his eye and stomps on the man’s foot at the same time, and the guard curses and lets him go for a split second. Mark doesn’t wait. He takes off down the hall, unsure where he’s going but knowing the castle is big enough to lose the guard—as long as he doesn’t run into anyone else.

He just needs to get somewhere where he can have enough time to create another portal.

“This can’t be good…” you finally say. You and Doyoung must have a death grip on each other’s hands right now, but neither of you are willing to pull away.

Doyoung shakes his head slowly. “No…it’s been too long. Maybe I-I should go back. Maybe if I go back willingly now…” He trails off, not knowing what could come at the end of that sentence.

“Doyoung, no. I…please don’t leave me.” You feel mentally torn between sending him away and knowing this is the last time you’ll see him versus having him stay here with you, if only for a few minutes more. At this point, you’re not sure what the right answer is anymore.

“They might come looking for me, Y/N, and I don’t want them coming here disturbing the forest—"

“Stay! You can hide somewhere, I…as the keepers of the forest, we’ve been handling ourselves against intruders for years. We can protect ourselves—and you. If they come, you can hide out here until they leave. Please, stay.”

Doyoung cannot say no to you or your pleading eyes. He nods. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen after all this—if he wants to go back to the castle, or if he’ll even be allowed to return. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to him in retaliation, and even the vague idea of it frightens him. Having his title removed is one thing, but the King of Eupheme is far more vindictive than that.

You and Doyoung only make it to the small cave you’d hidden in on that rainy day before you hear the distinct sound of another pair of feet crashing through the woods. You both whip your heads around, though you also grab Doyoung’s arm and pull him under the cover of the willow tree. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and you are too frantic to be able to sense who this new person is; though the question is quickly answered by a sharp whisper.

“Doyoung! Doyoung?”

“It’s Mark,” Doyoung hisses, his eyes widening. He slips between the tree branches and softly calls Mark’s name. In another few moments, the younger man is standing under the tree with you both.

“What happened?!” Doyoung asks, holding onto the younger boy’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Doyoung.” This is all Mark can say, and the words roll off his tongue repeatedly. He hangs his head. “The King knows, and he’s sent the guards to come here—I don’t know what he’s going to do, but—please believe me. It doesn’t sound good. He’s done being reasoned with.”

You and Doyoung look at each other with trepidation gripping your chests, realizing the stakes are much higher than you anticipated. This does not sound like just another case of “unwelcome intruders,” but “unwelcome intruders with bloodlust on their minds.”

“But—I can create another portal. I’m sorry, the last time, I just—but I can make one now. Come with us, please.” The last sentence is directed at you, and you shake your head.

“And go where? They’ll still be waiting for me at the castle. Are you suggesting we run away from Eupheme?” Doyoung’s voice is not reprimanding, but more incredulous than anything else.

Mark’s hands shake at the idea of turning his back on his family, which is something he’s never had to consider before—not even in the slightest sense. Things have gotten much more out of hand than he could’ve predicted.

You shake your head again, your hand slipping from Doyoung’s. “Just…I’ll stay here and help the others. You should go.”

“Y/N, I...” Doyoung’s throat tightens as he tries to speak, but his thoughts are disrupted by a quickly mounting commotion. The sound of hooves beating in the distance, though getting increasingly closer. The shouts of men who are ready to wage a battle, with fire racing through their veins.

Though most of Arthenia is asleep at this time of night, the noise of the horses’ hooves and the soldiers’ shouts is enough to begin waking the townspeople up out of their beds. Faces press against windows and peep out of doorways to see what’s happening.

The villagers are terrified when they see a group of soldiers adorned in the royal insignia and riding on horses enter Arthenia with lit torches in their hands, thinking their homes are about to be destroyed. However, they become even more confused and frantic when they quickly realize this band of men is paying their properties no mind and heading straight in the direction of the forest instead.

Some of Arthenia’s magic-wielders rush from their homes to try to put a stop to the men once they understand the situation, and the orcs and ogres meet them with brute force alone. The guards are met with a fight fiercer than they expected, even with their torches and daggers, not realizing the villagers could be so battle-hardy.

The King watches the battle ensuing in Arthenia from a hilly vantage point above the small town. The guards have failed to make much more headway against the villagers, who are gradually inching them back towards the village entrance. Shaking his head in disgust, the King pulls on his horse’s reins. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Some of the townspeople notice the King’s appearance just before he rides into the village. A few of them falter and cower in fear, finding the nearest exit point and taking their leave. Some others, incensed at their town being threatened and generally filled with rage at the King’s lack of fair leadership, decide to charge him head-on. They’re quickly extinguished, though, when the King conjures a great sphere of fire in his hands and whips it across them without a second thought.

He does the same to any other Arthenians who attempt to challenge him as he cuts a path through the village, uncaring of the land and homes he sets on fire as he does. A couple of the guards hop back on their steeds and follow him to his ultimate destination.

The King drives forward into the foliage. The women of the forest are armed with their own heavy rocks and sharpened arrows and daggers dipped in poisonous berry juice, though their weapons can barely leave their hands before everything is suddenly being enveloped in a wide swath of fire, meted out by the King’s hand. He leaves a path clear for himself and the guards in the middle, but the trees on either side are sent up in a blaze.

The two guards remain in single file behind him to use his fire as a shield and avoid the sharp rocks and poison-dipped darts zooming past their heads. Perhaps they’ve underestimated these tree-dwellers; already, there have been a few scrapes that were too close for comfort with the jagged edge of a rock or two. The guards light up as much greenery as they can as they go, using their torches to ignite leaves and low-hanging branches.

All around them, there are the sounds of Arthenians and dryads screaming in tandem as their homes go up in flames. A few nymphs lie fallen among the grass, unmoving as their tree homes burn up in the night.

The King, who has had the foresight to bring his shield, keeps it steady in front of him as he blasts fireballs out from behind it, lighting up one group of trees after another. He doesn’t know which one belongs to you, but he is willing to burn down the entire forest to find out. His movements are wilder than they’d normally be, which says a lot even for him, who has previously had no trouble slashing down anyone who stood in his way during battle—even if they were innocents.

“Doyoung!” The King shouts, and he whips up a great blanket of fire. He sends it careening up towards the sky like a shooting star, and it lands high among the tree canopy, heavy and far-reaching enough to burn treetops several feet in every direction. The guards become a bit wary at this, as the flames blaze above their heads and send sparks and burning debris flying down. “Doyoung!” His voice shakes the leaves like thunder. “If you do not wish to burn alive with these forest dregs, show yourself now!”

Doyoung’s spine stiffens as he hears his name echoing through the woods. It comes from a distance behind you all but is still too close for reassurance. If you stay in this spot for another few minutes, the King or one of his guards could be right on top of your heads.

“Come on!” Doyoung pulls your hand tightly as he helps you up the edge of a steep grassy incline, Mark supporting you from below. Though you’d be able to make it up there any other time by yourself, you don’t dare deny the help now. Your whole body feels like a live wire of fear and panic; the forest burns around you, and the encroaching smoke threatens to choke all three of you to death. Most of all, you feel devastated to see what’s happening around you, being essentially powerless to stop it. Nothing of this degree has ever befallen your home before; even the rare small blaze could be easily enough snuffed out. But not when the flames are being stoked and encouraged like this—building upon each other to see which can reach the tallest tree or the farthest edge of the forest.

After you reach solid ground, Doyoung drags Mark up behind you. There’s no time to pause after all three of you are on the ground; Doyoung grips your hand again and Mark follows behind the two of you as you run.

“The tree, the tree, the tree…” These words spill from your lips in a frenzy. Though your tree hasn’t been touched by the flames yet, it’s only a matter of time with the forest rapidly catching on fire. You can still feel the deep anguish of every other tree in the forest as their trunks catch fire, their leaves shrivel up, and the water evaporates from their root systems. Their silent screams and the shouts of your fellow dryads ring in your head loud enough to make you fear that your skull will split.

“Where are we going?” Mark asks, covering his nose with his sleeve and coughing profusely at the smoke all around.

“Out of the forest!” Doyoung shouts back. He doesn’t really know where to go except for the edge of the woods, and you aren’t in a state to tell him where to head. Deep down, he knows you want to turn back and go to your tree. The oak tree lives innately in you and you inside of it, and it calls you to come back, but the path is too dangerous; returning to it would only speed up what appears to be progressively inevitable. The King and his guards are somewhere in the forest behind you all, and turning back would only land you right in their hands or in the tendrils of the fire.

One of the guards feels a tinge of nervousness grow as the fire rages on around them, and he decides to try to reach out to the King. “Your Highness! I will go in search of Doyoung. Perhaps we should fetch him now before some danger befalls him; the fire is spreading exponentially.” The King gives him a signal to depart, though his eyes still burn just as brightly as the flames do.

The guard separates from the King to cut a path diagonally through the woods, going off to find Doyoung. The Crown Prince may have disobeyed the King—which is as good as committing treason against the kingdom—but it would still not look favorable for him to have died in a fire started at the King’s hands. However, the King is too far engulfed in the whirlwind of his own rage to consider these things more deeply.

The other guard stays by the King’s side, though his horse nervously shifts in place at the flames all around. The two men come to a stop in a wide and messy half-circle of fire, their backs to the flames as they watch the woods ahead for any signs of approaching creatures—or Doyoung himself.

Unbeknownst to the King, your oak tree sits only a few feet away in a yet-untouched portion of greenery.

A few leaves suddenly fall off a tree up ahead—too sudden to merely be caused by the wind—and this makes the King whip his head around and raise his hand to unleash more fire. Nothing appears from that spot, however, and the leaves remain as still as they were before. That moment of hesitancy costs him.

A small poison-tipped dart shoots from the leaves, catapulted by the force of a sudden, expertly-timed breath through a wooden blowgun. It lands squarely in the King’s open palm, which still faces the tree. A shout bursts from his throat in response, and it is only then that the guard realizes what’s just happened.

“Your Highness—!”

The shock and pain of the sudden assault causes the King to strike out in delayed anger, sending a wave of fire at the row of trees ahead of him—and a little further beyond, your oak tree in its small, grassy clearing. The dart burns up in his palm as he does, but its sharp point has already broken his skin. His reaction, though hampered by a few seconds, doesn’t afford Cassia much time to do anything but watch as a wall of feverish red and orange overtakes her, but her last few thoughts linger with you—where you might be within the forest right now, and if she could see you again in some faraway afterlife.

You’ve always known you would die when your tree finally did, but you weren’t sure what you expected it to feel like.

Certainly, not this kind of great reckoning—a sensation of every living element simultaneously being drained from your body. It feels like the core essence of your being has been cracked like an egg and is now flowing out endlessly, laid to waste in the grass. The sudden weakness that eclipses you makes it so that you can barely move your legs to continue running, and you collapse to the ground.

Mark nearly trips over your fallen form, but he quickly finds his voice and screams for Doyoung. The older man is already turning around, however, at feeling your hand slip from his. He rushes to you immediately, his eyes growing wide as he tucks his hands under you and scoops you into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please! Y/N, please, no!”

“Doyoung…”

“No. No! I’m begging...please, stay with me.”

Tears spill from his eyes in an endless torrent. You would like to touch his face at least once more, and you are infinitely glad—if not also heartbroken—when he grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. His tears wet your skin, running down your palm.

“I…I already told you not to forget me, so please…”

“Y/N, I’ve got to get you out of here…” Doyoung says desperately, and he struggles to make it to his feet. His legs tremble too much to support him, though, and his shoes slide in the leaves and dirt underfoot. Mark stumbles backwards, his back hitting a tree trunk as his muscles tense in horror at the scene in front of him.

“D-don’t. Leave me here.” Even saying this much feels like a massive effort.

“What?”

“Th-the forest and I are one in the same. I live and die here. Please…do this one thing for me, Doyoung.” You look at him imploringly with as much strength as you can summon despite your eyes growing heavier. Beyond the smoke, the cloudiness of your own tears, and the pull of death, it’s becoming harder to see; his features blur amid your surroundings.

Doyoung is quiet for a moment, though he slowly nods, gripping your hand tightly. He lowers his forehead to yours, and through the smoke and fire, he swears he can still smell the scent of jasmine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“My prince…” The corners of your mouth rise in a tiny smile. “I love you.”

The Crown Prince keeps his forehead against yours, his tears raining down on your cheeks long after you’ve gone limp in his arms.

Mark slumps to the ground, feeling as if his stomach will turn itself inside out, his heart hammering in his chest. He tries to breathe evenly, though his chest tightens painfully from the attempt. Eventually, he buries his face in his hands, trying to physically shut out the ache. He’s not sure how much time passes like that, with him and his brother immobilized on the ground, but he does know they need to leave, soon, as the air around them grows more stifling.

“Doyoung…D-Doyoung, we need to…w-we should…” Mark’s voice cracks, coming out weak in the roar of the noise around them. He coughs again, then shuffles to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.

Doyoung looks up at him without a word, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Then, slowly, he unravels himself from you and lays your body gently on the ground. He shuns his cloak to cover you with it, though part of him desires to stay here and perish with you instead of leaving only a portion of himself behind.

Him and Mark travel a few more yards through the woods, and though he’s never seen this part of the landscape before, he can guess they might be nearing the edge of the forest. The trees have begun thinning out here like they did at the small circular lake.

“Wait—" Mark calls out. Doyoung doesn’t bother looking back at Mark, but he can hear it too. The sound of horse hooves increases in volume, and they soon see one of the guards riding towards them, torch still in hand.

“Crown Prince! Prince Mark!” he shouts. “Come with me immediately!”

Doyoung looks frantically towards the ground. A sizeable rock catches his eye, bigger than the palm of his hand, and he picks it up. Without a second thought, he launches it at the guard’s face. It catches the guard on the left side of his face with a sickening pop, causing him to yell out in pain and fall from his horse. His torch falls from his grasp, starting yet another small fire where it lands.

With its rider gone, the horse slows its pace, though it does not stop. Doyoung catches it by the reins and is able to bring it to a pause long enough for him and Mark to get on. Everything else falls away from him as he guides them towards the forest’s outskirts; he barely feels the wind whipping past them, the lingering smoke stinging his eyes, or even the sturdy animal racing underneath him. He has a brief thought about what happened to those dangerous animals you said live on the outskirts, as there are none here now, but he reasons that maybe they’ve already made their own escape.

The sky is turning lighter now from the approaching dawn. When they finally breach the last row of trees in the woods, they come out onto an expansive field, only broken up by stray trees here and there and other landforms. On the far horizon, another town looms against the sky, though it’s much bigger than Arthenia.

Doyoung signals for the horse to stop, and both he and Mark sit there for a few long moments. Mark sucks in a few deep breaths, as if he were the one running this entire time. 

“W-what…what now?”

Doyoung doesn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, he asks, “Are you coming?”

Mark doesn’t know where his brother intends to go, but he wordlessly understands that it isn’t back to the castle. Or even Ceres. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I…I have to see the others.” He means their brothers. He means their parents back in Ceres, if he is even allowed to live. He is not sure what the King will do to him once he returns—if he’ll be tried for treason. Still, his chest burns with the desire to see his siblings at least once more.

Maybe that’s how he justifies it.

He’s not entirely sure why he refuses Doyoung in this moment, even when he thinks back on it years from now. Maybe he is too ashamed of the guilt—of feeling like it was all his fault. (If he hadn’t dropped the stopwatch…) He doesn’t want to serve as that constant reminder for his brother.

“Can you get back, then?” Doyoung asks. Mark realizes he’s referring to creating another portal, and he nods, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Y…yeah. I can.” He swallows again and hesitates for another moment. Then, Mark dismounts from the horse and looks up at Doyoung. “Where…where will you go?”

If the older man has already planned his route, he doesn’t disclose it. He simply looks at Mark with an expression that can only be described as pitiable, broken. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is ashen. “Goodbye, Mark.”

Mark stares at his retreating back as he leads the horse away and across the field. The space between them stretches out into forever, with a million unsaid thoughts and emotions falling in the gap.

Behind him, the forest continues to burn, taking all life with it. In front of him, Doyoung’s form turns into a speck against the endless green. It is a long time before Mark leaves that spot in the grass.

In the castle, Donghyuck slumps against his window as he watches smoke rising in the far distance, already knowing where it’s coming from. Like a mirror image of his older brother, tear tracks make their way down his face as he buries his head in his arms.

“What have I done?”

[lovelivingmydreams]

The worst possible thing.

*stares at this long and hard.* Fine!

@kingcreativityau you know who is responsible for what comes next.

Yes @hunter-with-a-tardis I'm looking at you

Janus was pacing the floor. He didn't like this one bit.

“What's taking him so long?” he wondered aloud.

It was a rhetorical question and the sides who were sitting here waiting couldn’t answer him even if it wasn't. No one liked this plan. It hadn't even been a plan. It was half an idea Logan and Janus would have dismissed at once if Virgil hadn’t been in the room  and overheard Janus mumble about it. Harnessing Virgil’s given powers and undo what king had done.

It was too risky to even consider. Janus didn’t need Virgil to point out all  the ways it could go very wrong. To everyone’s shock Virgil came with a solution though. He'd take king up on his offer and finish the gallery, ask him to teach him to get control over the shadows. If king took a liking to teaching, which Virgil thought he might, he'd keep doing it and eventually Virgil could lift the curses and they all could get back to helping Thomas.

Janus had wanted to argue. Sure king enjoyed instructing others in skills he felt more proficient at. He recalled King teaching him to duel not too long ago. He also remembered what happened after the student caught up though. King storming away and then, after he'd managed to get out of king's obstacle… how he'd been cornered, the panic the punishment for daring to upset the king in any way. No this was their mess. Virgil was not yet on king's bad side. That was a card they couldn't waste on something that risky.

But Logan had been writing and Janus was convinced he'd say something similar. And Virgil was more likely to listen to Logan so he'd waited.

He should have known Logan would never just dismiss any idea out of hand.

Somehow they'd all agreed to see if Virgil could get a first lesson. And soon Virgil left them to practice with the king every day. Which should be a comfort right? King clearly enjoyed the activity and he was not suspicious of anything. That was exactly what had Janus worried now.

Because king wasn't the only one enjoying the lessons. Sure Virgil still seemed terrified of the man, but whenever he returned he was deep in thought, sometimes with a small smile on his face. The one that said: I just did something right.

He'd been looking at them oddly too, like he was figuring out a complicated puzzle.

Something was off but Virgil refused to talk about it. Something about a promise he made.

A click of a pen echoed through the mostly empty space and Janus' head snapped up.

Logan needed his attention.

He was scribbling down something as fast as he could and handed it over. Janus read it over. It was a long ramble, but it came down to one thing.

“I do have faith in Virgil. It's king I’m worried about. One perceived slight and…”

Janus touched the mark on his face. The memory of it's creation very vivid in his mind.

“Aw, you do care,” Virgil's voice came from behind him. Janus whirled around.

Something about what he saw took him back, to a time when he had two misfit friends who didn't hate him. Before the fight.

Maybe if was that mischievous smirk or the way he carried himself as if he couldn't care less what other people thought. Except now he really seemed to mean it.

His clothes weren’t back to normal by any means. They were upgraded though. From a dark version of Roman's original outfit to one reflecting the fitting in upgrade. Except Virgil wore a few medals pinned on his vest. As well as applying Virgil's black and purple with white detailing color scheme.

He also wore a dark purple hooded cape instead of a sash.

Most startling of all, he looked genuinely comfortable with it all.

“Virgil? Is that you?” Janus asked.

Virgil nodded, still smirking. “Indeed it is,” the deep terrifying voice of the King boomed and suddenly he stood behind him hands delicately resting on the youngest side’s shoulders.

But Virgil didn’t even flinch.

“Dear Anxiety made so much progress, I felt he deserved a promotion. I offered him the title of Prince,” king summoned a dark crown in his hand only to immediately clench his fist and make the image disappear. “but he is so loyal to those he considers friends he wouldn't even consider to take my light half’s title,” King praised fondly. He stroked Virgil's hair for a moment. “So he is my head counselor now on top of creative minister. And you should all be happy to know, he made a plea on your behalf.” King waved his hand and suddenly Patton was six years old.

“Wha… I can talk?” Logan gasped astonished.

“You explain the conditions to them. I have to get back to work.” And just like that, King was gone.

“You did it?” Janus asked perplexed this was too good to be true.

“King did. Don't take his generosity for granted,” Virgil warned sternly.

“Virgil, kiddo…”

“You shall not address me like that!” Virgil hissed, his voice booming, twisted and sinister, a dark aura flaring up, making them all step backwards in shock.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Names are for friends and allies. After what I heard… you’ll have to earn my trust back,” he explained a little calmer. They all froze in horror. King told him… of course he did. He'd have to be a fool not to.

“These gifts have conditions attached. Morality you can get back to your own age with good behavior, the reverse is true as well though. Logic your voice can not speak ill of the king and what you do say about him will find it’s way to us.

Any and all communication to the king must go through me. You remember my shadow?” the creature in question appeared next to Virgil.

“He'll… assist you when I am with the king. Ask him if you need to ask me or king something. Oh and fair warning….” Suddenly they all fell to the ground. Crushed by guilt and fear and desperation.

“I’ll do anything to protect Thomas from having to live without us ever again. I won‘t permit you to anger the king. Understood?”

They all nodded as they whipped at their tears.

“Good. Dismissed.” When they looked up Virgil was gone. Only his shadow remained. The creature stared back at them looking heartbroken. “I’m sorry,” it whispered.

“This… might be the worst possible thing,” Logan muttered as he helped Patton up. While the two oldest sides discussed their situation Janus stared in horror at the tragic looking shadow.

How could he have let this happen?

 Janus opened his eyes. He was sweating, his heart was racing. What was real, what was a dream? He looked around. He was in his room. He got up to his knees and tapped a rhythm neither he or his neighbor had heard in years. Virgil used to wake up from nightmares like this. Not sure about reality and scared to leave his room. So they came up with a system. Notes weren't an option when you didn't want to turn on the light and alert Remus someone was awake to play with him. So they made up their version of Morse code.

‘What is going on' was always the start of such a conversation. It was just a long series of rapid light knocks. The first reaction, ‘I hear you' was a flat palm against the door. Then you wait for the other to respond. Virgil's response was quicker than he expected.

‘Patton. Small. Logan. Silent. Twins. One.’

Janus nodded. He hadn't dared to hope that all of it was a dream.

‘you?’ he asked. Though he doubted if Virgil could know what to tell him to assure him he wasn't currently being tutored by king. ‘Scared. Confused. Angry. Sad.’

Janus bit his lip. Virgil didn't use the code for pupil. If there was any real plan like in his nightmare Virgil would mention it. He’d been on the other side of these conversations often enough. Yes, everything was… well not fine but not as horrible as he'd feared. All he had to do to keep his dream from happening was not leave Virgil alone with the king. And… maybe figure out how to tell Virgil what had happened all these years ago.

Janus got ready to knock. There was a knock that meant to convey empathy. To be a comforting reminder that Virgil was not alone. But halfway through he remembered another pattern. One Virgil would always close the conversation with. It was almost an alternative for goodnight in these conversations. But it meant ‘Sorry’. Janus' scales stung with the thought of that word. But if he knocked the pattern… it wasn't the same right?

He took a deep breath and started out with: ‘Thanks.’ He readied his hand it was just three knocks long… But the very thought was agony

‘Welcome. Good night.’

Janus sighed as he heard the reply. Perhaps another time.

‘Good night.’

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @antiredhuman

[redemptionbaby]

AU where Arthur he’s a king and you were forced to marry him but over time you fall in love with him and become his queen😭🤧

I did a little snippet for this idea!

Arthur was not ready to be king. Ironic, considering his name, but it was true. He didn’t think he would ever be ready, and he most certainly wasn’t on the day the previous king died. While Arthur was not his child by blood, he had been his ward for many years, and was given the rights of succession long ago.

In order to cement his title, he had to marry, and marry well. Perhaps under different circumstances he would have resisted the notion, but there were quite a few noblemen eager to use any leverage, tactic, or written ordinance to take the title for themselves. While Arthur didn’t fancy himself a ruler, there were others whose leadership he trusted even less than his own.

His illegitimacy was no secret. It was only when the king was on his deathbed that Arthur’s succession was made public knowledge. Before that, he’d been looked down upon by many. Suffice to say, having no noble blood, he wasn’t considered a respectable marriage prospect, and hadn’t been given a second glance by any noblewoman in the region. He was lowborn, to be treated cordially due to his being favored by the king, but nothing more.

Things changed when he was to become king. Suddenly, nobles emerged from the woodwork, presenting their daughters, who would smile at him coquettishly and blush sweetly under his gaze. Girls who had, since his adolescence, turned their nose up at him. It sickened him to no end.

In secret, to his advisors and trusted friends, that he had one condition for a bride. She had to be from somewhere far, far away.

By some metric you were not privy to, you were chosen. To be shipped off to a distant kingdom, where you’d become a queen. A joyous stroke of luck for your family name, but little more than an inconvenient and inescapable truth for you.

——

The trouble began on your very first day. Your wedding was to take place in a week, with so much to do that you really had no chance to see your husband-to-be. It wasn’t comforting. And to make matters worse, you were at odds with the planners and seamstresses. You had brought wedding clothes, a parting gift from your family and a symbol of your culture, one last piece of your homeland. But they kept insisting on fitting you with some heavy, layered, stuffy nightmare that was traditional to the region. Unable to stand your wishes being so blatantly disregarded, and the one comfort from your home refused to you, you locked yourself in your room.

In a final desperate attempt to fulfill their duties, Arthur was summoned to talk to you— or rather, to use his divine authority to settle the matter. Your ears perked up upon hearing the steps of his heavy boots from behind the door and the maids and seamstresses silenced their chatter. He sighed deeply, speaking in a deep voice you hadn’t expected.

“So— y’got me down here. What’s this all about?” He sounded exasperated. You almost felt bad for having to involve him in your dramatics. The staff explained their predicament, making you seem as unreasonable as possible.

“Your highness, would you please tell her that it’s tradition in these parts to wear the wedding clothes of the groom’s culture? She won’t listen to us.” You took note of the comfort with which they requested this of him, the almost casual tone of voice. You waited alongside them with bated breath for his words.

“Absolutely not. Poor girl had to leave her home ‘n family to come here for a man she doesn’t know. I ain’t makin’ her give up her clothes too. It’s supposed to be her special day… I’ve already robbed her of enough—“ he coughs into his fist awkwardly, still not used to having to put on his authoritative voice and order people around.

“And for chrissakes, she’s gonna be your queen. She tells you somethin’, y’listen to her.”

You emerged from your room after he’d left, greeted by bowed heads and bashful apologies. You were no longer met with resistance about your wedding clothes.

[youarejesting]

Royal Pain (MYG x Reader)

[Masterlist]

Prompt: Whistle @castlebangtan​ Pairing: Ranger!Yoongi x reader Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance Words: 1.9k Summary: Feeling out of place in the Kingdom, you can only imagine a life outside the castle and your overbearing parents. With more than whispers on the winds your attention is captured by a bandit ranger. He goes by the name whistle, for his handcrafted arrows that let out a high pitched sound as the fly through the air.

You were a princess. Crown, servants, dresses, knights and all. Your daily itinerary included waking up early, getting dressed, tutoring, then you were to graciously listen to the civilians' problems and try to fix them. After all that, you would have the afternoon to yourself strolling around the gardens where you would take tea. When the evening came you would retire to the boudoir with your so called ‘friends’. It was just a title for the noble women you were obliged to entertain and solidify connections between their families and the royal family of Dawsbury. 

Watching the sunset, and enjoying the cool breeze, as the soft sky was eaten away by the darkness. Namjoon had his arms full of books as he crossed the courtyard, he seemed to be surprised to see you still seated at your tea table outside. Trailing behind the scholar was the newest guard Jungkook; he had been an aspiring squire for many years, finally passing the exam and being knighted.

“My lady, it must be getting cold, you should retire inside before you fall ill.” Namjoon advised gently, you looked up to see him eyeing the courtyard.

“There have been a few attacks from Whistle lately as well,” Jungkook muttered, receiving a jab to the side from the lanky scholar. “I mean you have nothing to worry about my lady, please allow us to escort you inside.”

You nodded, walking inside. The walls adorned with portraits of relatives long passed, you hated every picture in the castle. The Dawsbury family, — your family — for generations were all uniform, each with the same features, but why were you different? Why did your hair have to be strikingly different in color, your eyes too? You didn’t fit in and it made you try harder in your studies just to appease your family.

You were to marry Lee Heejun, the handsome Prince who had been staying with your family since before you can remember. He was treated more like a family member than you were. “My lady, shall we escort you to the dining hall this evening?” Namjoon smiled

“No, I think I would like to take my dinner alone, I am quite drained from today.” You quickly excused yourself. Not ready to face another night at the dinner table, where your mother and father tried to strong arm you into marriage.

“Of course, we will let the king and queen know.” Namjoon smiled, shutting the door behind you. Sighing, you were finally alone, heading towards the candles to illuminate the area. There was a loud whistle piercing through the air. It’s him! You raced out onto the balcony. Trying to spot the famous bandit behind the signature whistling arrows.

Guards scurried around firing at a shadow on the roof. Alarmed by the approaching figure you ducked inside but heard something land on the balcony. There was almost inaudible panting as the intruder let out a soft profanity.

He snuck inside and you paused holding your breath, he was dripping blood over the plush carpet. His feet not making a sound, “looks empty, no one will be here for the evening.” he whispered touching the small items on the vanity. He sat behind the desk and hissed as he pulled out the arrow stuck in his side a groan slipping past his parted lips quietly. Your eyes had adjusted to the night faster than his. Footsteps were coming down the hall stopping at the door, as the man brandished a small knife.

Knock knock.

“Princess I brought your food,” The maid spoke, you called, the figure behind the desk froze and you hoped he wouldn’t attack you or your maid.

“I am not hungry, please come back later,” You said cheery, “I am just resting, I am sorry to bother you”

“Of course my lady,” the maid scurried off. He knew you were there so there was no reason to hide any longer.

“Are you hurt, sir?” You lit a candle and carried it over kneeling beside him, “Please let me see your side,”

“I am fine.” He wrapped his wound and stood up, you frowned standing and looking at him, “Do you know who I am?”

“You are Whistle right, the famous bandit,” you said hopeful, you thought he was pretty cool. Your father wasn’t a nice man stealing land and taxing everyone immensely, and you thought Whistle was doing good things for the community.

Even if you thought he was a bad guy and wouldn’t trust him with your life, the mystery and the things he did made you admire his abilities.

“Could I have some water?” he asked and you poured some from the nearby jug and he took it, swivelling it in his hand and sniffing it, “drink some first.”

“I didn’t poison it.” You scoffed drinking some and he smiled sadly. Flashing his ring which had a secret compartment open with residual powder.

“I know but I did.” you felt your body go limp and he threw you over his shoulder, wasting no time before taking off in the shadows of the night.

When you woke you were in a carriage racing through the forest, “My lady you have awoken,” it was Whistle he was sitting across from you the carriage surrounded by men on horses.

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded, embarrassed and angered that you were sound asleep whilst being kidnapped. “You take me back right now or my father will hurt you!”

“Sir we are being followed?” A voice called from outside the carriage.

“Ha! See they are already coming to rescue me and you lowlives will be killed.” You hissed at him, arms folding over your chest with a triumphant expression.

“We ditch the carriage. My lady?” Whistle held out his hand but you didn’t accept it. With a sigh he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

“You put me down!” You screeched, “put me down, you sleaze!” 

“I could but you would be trampled,” He had climbed up the side of the carriage to the driver's seat. Once you were placed upright you slapped him in the face. He gritted his teeth holding back some choice words he continued, “After you, my lady.”

His voice was clipped and when you didn’t move he picked you up, dropping you on the horse. Whistle sat behind you as he and the carriage driver, both cutting the horses free and rode off. 

“After all this, I never want to see you again,” you were pushed back into the bandits chest and the group moved quickly through the forest.

“Trust me my lady,” His body was tense. He seemed rather pissed and you were starting to get concerned, “After I deliver you, I will be out of your sight.”

They rode all night. To the point the exhaustion had taken over your form, but they didn’t stop. Almost falling off the horse, the bandits arms wrapped more firmly around your waist pulling you pressed against him. “Find us somewhere to sleep.” They nodded and before long you were speeding into a small clearing.

Sliding off the horse you almost collapsed caught by Whistle who took your chin looking into your tired eyes. The pinto butted his head against your shoulder and you turned patting him. 

“Alright boy, I am taking the saddle off, have patience.” You were handed a small bucket with water from one of the men who smiled gesturing to the horse. Holding the bucket out the horse began drinking happily.

“Here is my bedroll, go to sleep,” He said, sounding exhausted.

“I cannot sleep on the ground!” He gave you an incredulous look making you wilt and sink onto the bed roll. Even if it was on the ground, the bedroll smelt like him. It was too dark to run away without getting yourself killed. 

This became a routine of riding all day and making camp every night, you tried many times to slow them down but Yoongi always called your bluff. You had said you needed to go to the bathroom and he told you he would slow but he would have to come with as there were dangerous animals in the woods.

After that you started to comply, not trying to annoy him any more, he was losing his patience. Not wanting to complain, something about these men made it feel like they didn’t want to hurt you. He wasn’t the most talkative guy but something about him was caring he knew what you needed before you spoke. His hands outstretched with some food and a water skin.

Filling up on breakfast may not have been the best idea as the furious horse riding made you feel ill, holding it down the feeling soon went away. The men would sometimes talk as they rode and you had noticed among the men was the scholar Namjoon and the newest knight Jungkook.

Why were they here? Were they a part of this? You looked at them confused and assumed they had been undercover this whole time. What you didn't expect was the castle in the distance, perhaps you were just passing through town. However you were escorted directly towards the towering castle.

The closer you got the more your head grew dizzy, a pain behind your temples. Doubling over in pain almost resulted in falling off the horse. If it wasn’t for Whistle you would be becoming well acquainted with the ground. 

“Hang in their princess,” His voice breathed in your ear, arriving in the innermost courtyard, you were assisted off the tall pinto and led into the castle. Upon entering you saw something that almost frightened you, on the wall was your portrait with the king and queen of Matlock. 

You looked the same, the same hair color, eye color. There was a familiarity of the whole place. “I have returned the princess.” Whistle said “Thank you so much Yoongi,” The king laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for bringing our daughter home.

“I will take my rest now,” he bowed low to you and your parents. How could you forget them?

You were escorted to your room and more memories came back, your mother and father apologized and tried to hold back but you were quick to hug them and tell them you were remembering where you truly belonged.

It was the next morning you were heading through the corridors you knew every turn and path through the castle. Arriving at the dining hall.

“I wish Yoongi could stay with us,” your mother said, “He just got you back and was eager to catch up with you,”

“You two were betrothed, before you were kidnapped and well he thought it was his fault. So he has been trying to find you for a few years now wanting to bring you home,” your father sighed, “He seemed exhausted, I only hoped he would stay another night or two.”

“He was told by the princess that she never wanted to see him again,” Namjoon smirked down the table, “I guess he is taking it seriously.”

Without excusing yourself you ran from the dining hall through the kitchens and out to the stables where you saw him saddling his pinto.

“Yoongi!” you called, panting heavily from the frantic run through half the castle. “Where are you going?”

“I am following your orders, my princess,” he said softly facing the horse and you grabbed his hand and pulled it to your chest.

“I remember.” You breathed, wondering if he could hear how hard your heart was beating against your chest, “Not everything, but I remember somethings, and I think I need you to help me remember.”

“How am I supposed to help you my lady?”

“Never leave my side,” You muttered eyes misting with the idea of him leaving.

“And what if that doesn’t help you remember,” he took your chin in his hand and lifted your gaze to meet his, “What can I do to help you remember?”

You were about to answer when the pinto nudged Yoongi in the back, pushing him into you. A gasp left your parted lips and he leaned in kissing you softly, your hands buried into his hair. Mind flooding with memories of stolen kisses in the music room as he played your favourite tunes. Afternoons at the range sitting and watching Yoongi fire arrows into targets at obscene distances. The whistle piercing through the air.

[writing-red]

The Emerald Manor | 5

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: major themes of physical and verbal abuse, maternal body shaming, nasty parents, mommy issues, daddy issues, jokes about suicide, I may even be missing some things

Word Count: 11k

A/N: self care is important if these warnings may trigger you please consider that chapter carries heavy themes, take care of your brain <3 also this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, she’s a beast

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

‘You and Draco shall be traveling from Hogwarts directly to Malfoy Manor. Since you will be meeting his parents before you see your father and I, I demand that you look presentable and remember the manners I’ve taught you. Your father and I will meet you at Malfoy Manor the night you return from school for dinner. As you will be staying with the Malfoy’s for the entirety of the Holiday, I will pack and send the clothing I find suitable for you to wear throughout this visit.’

The words from your mother’s letter rang in your head as the train pulled into London. As much as you hated everything she was putting you through for the sake of blood purity and her social status, you did not wish to incur her wrath. 

As you stepped off of the Hogwarts express and onto platform 9 3/4 on Draco Malfoy’s arm, you looked the part of the picture-perfect pureblood pairing. You were both matching in all black, your Gryffindor tie, and Gryffindor friends nowhere to be seen. If your mother were to see you, you could swear she would shed a tear. You were finally the young lady she had been grooming you to be since birth.

Draco led you out of King Cross Station to where a large black driverless carriage awaited both of you. Everything about the situation made you want to vomit off of the sidewalk and onto the street, but you took Draco’s arm as he helped you up the step and into the carriage. As hard as it was to admit it, you knew that Draco would be the safest person in your world for the next couple of weeks, and you would have to cling to that as hard as possible. You sat right next to him in the carriage, refusing to let go of his arm. You held his hand tightly in yours, reaching for any sense of security you could scavenge.

Draco knew you were afraid and that you would rather die than admit that to him, so instead of teasing or chiding you for it, he didn’t bother when you chose to sit next to him or when you refused to let go of him. He took the opportunity to make you feel safe. It’s all he’s really wanted to do anyway.

You had been to Malfoy Manor before, but it had been a while, every family takes turns hosting society events, and you were only ten the last time you attended one at the Malfoy’s. That had been the first year your mother had forced you into a corset, and that was about all you could remember about their estate. But when you rolled up to the gate, you wondered exactly how you could forget the lavish mansion. It was cold, looming, and dark, as was yours, the sharp wrought iron gates refusing entrance to anyone who didn’t make the cut. The stark white peacocks that stalked along the border of the estate offered more of a threat than any romantic reminder of nature, their cold eyes bored into as if to remind you that you would never fit in here.

Draco could feel anxiety rolling off of you as the carriage approached the manor, and he wanted with everything in him to cure it.

“Y/n,” he said in a whisper tone even though you were out of earshot from anyone who could be listening. “I know I haven’t been the best in the last month, but please know that I do care about you.” He could sense your disbelief. “I know you don’t believe me, I know that I haven’t given you a reason to, and I know that this doesn��t feel like the time. I’m sorry I don’t know how to say this. But, I am here for you through this. Please let me be.”

You knew that now wasn’t the time for an argument, that it wasn’t the time to ask why he hadn’t said this before you were walking in the doors of his house and not that morning in the courtyard when you had bared your heart to him, and he had ignored you, but as you were thinking, he interrupted you.

“Just nod, please, just show me that you understand,” he said, his tone desperate for some reason you couldn’t identify.

You nodded, maybe to placate him, or maybe, perhaps because this time you had heard him, even if it was just a little, it was enough to plant the prospect of trust.

“Alright,” he said and exited the dark, ornate carriage, offering his hand to you when he had landed on the ground.

You took his hand, more for emotional stability than physical. “Thank you, Draco,” you whispered into his ear, for his hand or his words from just moments ago, neither of you was sure.

Narcissa had been waiting for you outside of the entrance to the manor. She was clearly eager to see you and to see her son home from school.

“Mother!” Draco greeted, what seemed to be a genuine smile graced his face for just a moment. Narcissa took him in his arms and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was the briefest of interactions, but you could tell that she cared deeply for her son. “I know you have met her before, but this is Y/n, Y/l/n.”

“Yes,” her voice was kind and utterly elegant. “Darling, I haven’t seen you in years, you have grown into such a stunning young woman. Welcome back to our home.” Narcissa opened up her arms, and you welcomed the embrace, not remembering the last time you had received one from your own mother. You reveled in the short interaction even after she released you. “I am truly delighted to have you. And your mother sent your things yesterday, they are in your room.”

“Thank you for having me, Lady Malfoy. It is an honor to be invited into your home,” you said, speaking the words your mother had instructed you to say before.

“Please, call me Narcissa, there is no need for titles between us. And we are happy to have you,” she said, her features softening for a moment. “Now, come inside. I can’t risk you and Draco getting sick before the Holiday has even begun.” 

You followed Draco and Narcissa inside through the grand doors. The room was filled by cold light flowing in through the grand windows framed by black curtains, most of the stone floor was covered by an ornate rug, and there were two black stairways curving to the same location of the second floor, which from its spot far above you provided its own dark mystery. The manor was anything besides inviting, even the silver and green Christmas decorations were distressing in their coldness.

“We will be meeting down here for drinks at 7 tonight,” Narcissa informed you and Draco. “Y/n, that’s when your parents will be arriving. So Draco dear, why don’t you show Y/n up to the room across from yours, and you two can clean up before dinner.”

Draco nodded and gestured for you to take his arm again. As you did, you turned to thank Narcissa once more. “Thank you again, ma’am.”

She cut you off before you could finish, “Narcissa dear, please, I won’t have you calling me Lady, ma’am, or anything of the sort.”

You nodded and smiled, “thank you, Narcissa.”

Draco led you up the set of stairs to the right side of the entrance and down a dark hallway lit only by the occasional candelabra. It reminded you much of your own house, a dark museum dedicated entirely to your family’s great pureblood history. Draco showed you to a black door at the end of the hallway, across from another black door and near the only window in the corridor.

“Well, this is your room,” he said, gesturing to the door he had shown you to. “Apparently, you’re across from me,” he said, referencing the door not three feet away from you.

“I’m sure there’s some sort of underlying meaning there,” you said, trying to lighten the tension.

A smile graced Draco’s lips for just a moment before falling back into its usual stone near-scowl.

“I have to admit that I’m glad you’re close-by,” you said, so quiet he could barely hear you, quietly enough it was as if you weren’t even admitting it.

Draco hid the joy that bubbled in his heart when you muttered those words. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready for dinner. We should head back downstairs at five-till.” He advised, and you nodded before he disappeared into his room, the door closing behind him.

The room was more comfortable than you had imagined it to be, even more, comfortable than the one you had at home. The walls were covered in green tapestries depicting nature, a black fireplace with a fire roaring inside rested against the wall across from the four-post bed that had what looked like the softest comforter in the world and a plush bench residing at its foot. On the floor beneath your feet was a perfectly soft grey carpet that laid over dark wooden floors. On the wall that housed the fireplace stood another black door that was open and led to an intricate bathroom, inside of which was a closet. But what took your breath away was the wall covered in bookshelves and a vast collection of stunning books. You could even spy a few muggle authors, which surprised you. 

If you could spend the entire Holiday in this room and not leave once, you would be content, although, as that sadly would not be your reality, you hauled yourself into the bathroom for a quick shower. You still felt sick to your stomach with nerves, and you were hoping that hot water would soothe you even just a bit. You didn’t spend long under the running water, nervous about the time, departing out of the shower, drying yourself, and stepping into the closet, you found a dark emerald green dress labeled ‘dinner, night one’ in your mother’s script, of course, she didn’t even trust you to pick out your own clothing. You drew the dress onto your body, holding your wand in your teeth as you willed magic to help you lace up the corset the way you knew your mother would expect it to look. You used the same guide for your hair and makeup, everything exactly as she would want, even though you were sure that you would find some way to fuck it up.

Just as you finished, you heard a soft knock land on your door. You opened the door to Draco, who was wearing a variation of the black suit you so often found him in, although you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked in it. And part of you didn’t want to stop staring at him. Part of you wanted to skip dinner and pull Draco into your room by his tie.

“Y/n, you look lovely,” he said kindly. “Emerald is a stunning color on you.”

“Thank you, Draco,” you said, a bit of blush rising to your cheeks. “You are quite handsome yourself.” 

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Will I ever be?” You said.

He didn’t have to verbally respond for you to know that he understood. He just offered your hand, led you back down the long dark hallway and down the stairs, which seemed steeper now that you were wearing heels. But Draco’s steady hand assured that you were ascending the stairs gracefully. You let out the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding in when you realized you had beat your parents to the first part of the evening. You could only imagine the lecture on tardiness your mother would be ready to deliver had you arrived after her.

“Darling, you somehow look even more beautiful than you did earlier,” Narcissa said when she caught sight of you. “Draco, did you tell your fiancée how lovely she looks this evening?” Narcissa asked, glancing at her son.

“It was the first thing I heard once I stepped out of my room,” you assured her, your cheeks reddening even more at the sound of her compliment.

“Good,” she said and smiled.

Impeccable timing as always your mother and father appeared in the Malfoy’s grand fireplace, your Mother and Father had clearly not spent a second thinking of anything but these two weeks for some time, they were both dressed perfectly for the event at hand, their sour faces completing their outfits.

“Layah, William,” Narcissa greeted them as old friends, which of course they were, your mother had been friends with Narcissa and Bellatrix back in their Hogwarts days, and your father was on many of the same boards as Lucius.

“Narcissa, thank you so much for having us and for inviting our daughter into your home,” your mother said, false kindness wrapping around her voice like a snake. “I hope she’s remembered her manners,” she shot you a glare, causing anxiety to roar in your stomach.

“Merlin, Layah, you’ve raised the perfect daughter! She’s been nothing but kind and pleasant since she arrived,” Narcissa assured her friend, not catching the look Layah had sent you. “This is my son Draco,” she gestured to Draco who was next to you, just across from her.

“Lord Y/l/n, Lady Y/l/n, it’s an honor to meet you again,” he said as he politely bowed his head now.

 “Come now, let us start with drinks in the sitting room,” She said, showing the party into a somewhat smaller sitting room. The room was covered in silver, art, and luxurious furniture you were sure came from the 18th century, which was arranged perfectly for conversation. You found yourself sitting on a love seat with Draco on Narcissa's instruction, which didn’t surprise you much.

A house-elf came in and began handing out drinks as the conversation started, mostly between your mother and Narcissa, Draco, and your father. You didn’t mind being ignored. You simply held your glass tightly and tried to not be sick.

“So, Y/n, Draco tells me you’re a wonder at potions!” Narcissa said, startling you a bit as you weren't expecting to be drawn into the conversation.

“Well, Professor Snape has been a fantastic teacher, and I really spend most of my time at school studying anyways,” You could only think that if you were at the Burrow, Fred and George would be cackling at the lies you were boasting. You were more likely to spend time running around getting into trouble than study.

“She really just is modest, Mother,” Draco said. “She’s the reason I have such good marks in the class this term.”

You smiled sweetly, unsure otherwise of how to respond. It didn't help that you and Draco knew that Hermione was undoubtedly the best in your year, but that wasn't the point here.

“Darling, don’t sell yourself short. Coming from a family like yours, I am sure you are an incredible witch,” Narcissa said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you said and gave her a respectful bow of your head, intent on displaying the manners you had been taught and that were expected of you.

“Now, Draco, I am curious what you wish to do once you leave Hogwarts,” Your father interjected. You could only presume that he was uncomfortable with the compliments being offered to you.

The conversation continued on, you remained mostly ignored, and as your drink refilled itself a second time, you found yourself feeling a bit more at ease. While you weren’t aiming to get drunk, you were trying to rid yourself of those pesky nerves eating at your stomach. As you calmed yourself, the house-elf returned to call the party to dinner. You silently reminded yourself to get her name when you could. You were sure she experienced nothing but cruelty here.

As you rose from the love seat, you were sure to remember all of the perfect ladylike manners your mother had been sure to instill in you. Taking Draco’s hand when he offered it and leaving your glass on its coaster, you would most likely be having wine with the meal, and it would be considered rude to bring along a dirty glass. You knew that you would never forget these stupid little societal rules no matter what happened with your life. You sat at the incredibly made-up dining table next to Draco, which you knew was intended to encourage you two to make conversation. After everyone was seated, conversation resumed, but it wasn’t until the second course arrived that your mother finally mentioned the wedding.

“Narcissa, I do believe you’ve landed on a date for this summer?” Layah asked.

“Yes, I thought that the 22nd of June would be lovely seeing that it’s the longest day of the year,” Narcissa said. “Y/n, what do you think?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed. Of course, nothing about this wedding was perfect, but you knew better than to oppose. “Summer is my favorite season, and the Summer Solstice has always been special to me.” What you were saying was true. You had always loved the heat, joy, and magic of the day.

“Lovely, we’ll work on getting out the necessary notifications this week,” Narcissa said, and you nodded.

“You two have made quite the match,” your father said to Layah and Narcissa. Of course, he would approve of Draco, he was everything William wished his son had been. “Y/n, I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

Underneath the table, you clenched your nails into your palm, breaking the skin on your hand as you tried to brush off your father's remark.

“I’m glad you approve, sir,” Draco said, dismissing his second statement.

Dinner continued on, snide remarks occasionally coming from your mother after you would speak, and constant praise to Draco from your father. However, Draco and Narcissa acted as a barrier of sorts from your parent's attacks, which made the whole thing just a little bit more bearable. When dinner ended, Draco and your father left to smoke, which was expected, and Narcissa invited you and your mother back to the sitting room for tea.

“Y/n, Layah, I was wondering what you were thinking for Y/n’s dress,” Narcissa asked as you sat back down on the loveseat.

“I did not have anything in mind,” your mother said.

“Well, my family has a very old tradition where the mother passes her dress down to her daughter,” Narcissa started.

“Oh, Narcissa, I’m sorry to say I don’t have my dress any longer.”

“See, the thing is I still have mine, which had, of course, belonged to my mother, her mother, and so on, and since I don’t have a daughter, I was wondering if you would like to wear it Y/n?” said Narcissa, sure to direct the question away from your mother and towards you.

“Narcissa, I would be honored!” You chirped, your face lighting just a bit with a genuine smile, the motherly love she had extended to you in the last seven hours was more than you had experienced in your life, and you would be happy to have a piece of her with you in the ceremony.

“Dear, I doubt it will fit,” your mother said to you, that evil faux smile on her lips.

“I’m sure it will!” Narcissa said, her excitement shining through her smile. “Anyways, isn’t that what magic is for, Layah?”

“Sure, Narcissa,” your mother drawled as she shot her friend one of those cold snake-like smiles. “Narcissa, would you mind if I stepped out with my daughter for a second?”

“No! Of course, I forgot you haven't seen her in so long, please stay here. I’ll go check in on the gentlemen,” she said and left swiftly. 

You wanted to beg her to stay. You wanted to scream and cry and demand that she not leave you alone with your mother, but that would only end you in more trouble than you could possibly be in now.

“Merlin, Y/n, you’ve put on weight. Are you not exercising at school? Just because you’re betrothed doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself, foolish girl,” she said the second Narcissa was out of earshot.

“Sorry, mother,” you cast your eyes to the floor.

Your mother rose from her seat, she’s a tall woman with harsh features, and she loomed over you when she made her way over to the love seat. 

“Stand,” she said, and you did so instantly and with grace. “I’ve been told that you’ve been acting decently for once in your pathetic life,” the witch said as she inspected you, from the way you tied your corset to the curls in your hair, you kept your eyes on the floor, staring at the tips of your shoes. Suddenly she grabbed your chin with as much force as you believe she possessed and drew your face up so that you would be forced to make and keep eye contact with her. “If you screw this up, I promise you will not live to see the Summer Solstice, do you understand me?”

You drew in a breath, which was a mistake, a sign of weakness. 

She released your chin, and with the opposite hand struck you across the face. “I asked you a question, now answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you said, and you drew your hand up to cover the red mark that was forming on your cheek: your skin prickling and a headache seeping into your skull from the force of the strike.

“Good,” she said as she brushed her hands off on her skirt as if to rid herself of any filth she may have picked up from you. “Your father and are leaving for work for the next few days, although we plan on returning Wednesday for lunch, stay about your wits until then. Am I understood?”

You nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, she swept out of the room, her expensive black dress accentuating her exit. As she left, Draco came in the way she had exited. Seeing you holding your cheek with your eyes cast to the ground, he hurried over to you in concern.

“Y/n, did anything happen?” he asked, his tone as rushed as his entrance.

You shook your head ‘no.’ 

“Darling-”

“Draco, I’m fine,” you hissed, dropping your hand and looking up at him. The mark from the strike remained, and he saw it clearly. You took a moment to calm yourself. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty for your harsh tone when you caught his eye, the same eyes you had agreed to trust, at least while you were here, “I'm sorry, I just wish to go to bed if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head to give you a silent, yes. He had only seen you act like this up close and personal once when he pissed you off just that past week, but even in that, you had a beautifully bold and courageous anger about you that seemed to spark cherry red. This was different. Of course, he had seen you at events when you were both young, but you hadn’t attended them in recent years, and you acted far differently at Hogwarts. Even around him and his friends, you were yourself, even when he sought ways to piss you off. He thought back to the playful banter you had with Blaise just this morning, which felt like ages ago, or the fire you spat at him when he invaded dinner at the Gryffindor table. Here, in the presence of your parents, you were in a state of survival and fear. He was finally starting to see why you had been so afraid of him and this whole marriage. To you, he embodied everything you were afraid of, everything that kept you from living your life in fear of it being taken away. Should you say the wrong thing, wear the wrong dress, or use the wrong fork, befriend the wrong person, it would cost you. You were someone else here. He recognized the look of fear you had when the silver letter landed between you two, that night of the party all the way back in September, and even that morning in the courtyard when he refused to hear out your fears, preferring to remain ignorant to his own petty feelings. 

“Can I walk you up to your room?” He simply asked, now wasn’t the time to pry. He would have to prove to you that you could trust him, and that would take time.

You merely nodded and took his arm as it was offered to you. Draco showed you out of the room where your parents were all saying their goodbyes.

“You two should be heading up to bed now, especially after such a long day of traveling,” Narcissa noted.

“Yes, mother,” he said and gave polite nods to your parents. “Sir William, Ma’am, it was a pleasure getting to know you tonight. Thank you for joining us, and thank you for allowing Y/n to stay for the Holiday.”

“Please, Draco,” your mother started. “William and I are so often out of the house for work that she would have been alone most the time, and we can’t have that, can we?” She elicited a grotesque little giggle, to which everyone politely responded with smiles despite the thinly veiled insult.

You watched as your father took your mother's hand, “well goodnight Draco, Narcissa,” He said to the two, then his eyes landed on you, his tone shifting from polite to the one you were so used to hearing him use, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, father, mother,” you said as they disappeared into the grand fireplace.

“Well, I won’t keep you two. I’m sure you need to sleep after today,” Narcissa said. “Goodnight, both of you.”

“Goodnight,” you and Draco said together before you parted ways, and Draco led you back up the set of stairs to your rooms. You released his arm and disappeared into the darkness without a word, the effects of the day settling heavily on your shoulders.

Sunday passed with little activity. You mostly took the day to explore the manor with Draco as Narcissa was busy running errands throughout the whole day. You were excited to find the library in the manor filled to the brim with old books. They were, of course, all wizard-written, although most of them seemed to have not been opened in a couple of generations. The fireplace alongside the comfortable leather chairs and the grand windows made it the perfect space to read. It seemed to be the only other comfortable room you found in the space. It was the last room Draco showed you on the extensive tour, and you both spent the rest of your day in the library. You went between reading and writing out details of your break thus far in letter format to your friends. You were hopeful that you may find the opportunity to sneak them out some way, and you didn’t want to forget a detail when you did get a chance to recount the events of your holiday. Draco, who sat across from you in his own chair, had a spread of books and charts along with a notebook that was clearly well used. You didn’t bother him with questions about what he was doing as you enjoyed the opportunity to sit in peace. In fact, it was the first time the two of you were able to occupy a space together without finding your way to one another’s throats.

Monday morning, you awoke on your own despite the darkness of the room. You took your time getting ready, allowing yourself to remain in the peaceful space as long as you could. You found a casual dress your mother had packed for you. Of course, there wasn’t a single pair of pants in sight. God forbid you have an ounce of comfort over these next two weeks. After you got ready, you realized you weren’t entirely sure of what you were meant to be doing or where you were supposed to be. You decided to walk downstairs and find breakfast. You made your way downstairs and through the maze of the house, through the dining room and sitting room till you finally reached the kitchen. Already inside was a house-elf, different from the one who had served dinner last night, hard at work cooking, and beyond him, you could see Draco sitting in a breakfast nook, eating. You slowly made your way over to him and took a seat across from him.

“Good morning,” you said as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he said and smiled at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. I just figured I’d let you sleep.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. It was nice.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked, and you responded with a nod. Shortly a plate with toast, poached eggs, and fruit appeared right in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you began to eat.

The two of you sat in silence as you both ate your breakfast, you didn’t have anything to say, and Draco didn’t know what to say. This lasted about fifteen minutes and was only interrupted by Narcissa entering the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you two are here,” she said when she saw both of you.

“Good morning, mum,” Draco said, and you echoed him.

“We are going to Diagon Alley today, and we are going to get both of you fitted so that Madam Malkin can start adjusting your clothes for the wedding,” she explained. “Then, I thought the two of you could get lunch in London once we were done.”

You and Draco nodded, “Sounds lovely,” you said.

“Perfect, we’ll leave in an hour,” Narcissa said, then left the kitchen, likely to prepare for the trip.

You were excited to go to Diagon Alley. You hoped you would be able to sneak into the twins' store and, at the very least, see Fred and George, who you missed dearly now that you hadn’t seen them in nearly a year now. You also figured that you would be able to sneak them your Although, you limited your expectations, not wanting to get your hopes up if you couldn’t make it. The hour passed quickly, and at precisely 11:23 in the morning, the three of you utilized the grand fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley. The whole place was cold, so many shops had been boarded up, lights were out in many shops, although you found a slice of joy when you saw the lights up in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. You didn’t have much time to look as Narcissa quickly whisked both of you into Madam Malkin’s. It wasn’t until you were inside that you noticed the large black garment bag Narcissa had been carrying, something you could only assume to be the dress she was passing on to you.

“Draco, you go run your errand first while Y/n tries her dress on,” Narcissa said before you even went in and he nodded, clearly not wanting to argue with his mother on this one. While you wanted to see where this errand was taking him, Narcissa turned you around and gently pushed you inside of Madam Malkin’s shop.

“Ah, Lady Malfoy! I’ve cleared out my whole afternoon for you two. I take it we have a very special project at hand,” Malkin said as you entered. “Give her here,” she said regarding the dress, which she indicated by holding out her arms.

Narcissa softly handed over the wedding dress. Madam Malkin hung it up on a nearby garment rack, unzipping the black bag revealing a stunningly elegant white gown in impeccable condition. “Let’s get this on you, dear,” she said, ushering you over, and you complied quickly. 

It took both her and Narcissa to get the dress on you due to the sheer weight of the thing, but once it was on, it fit nearly perfectly. But Madam Malkin flitted around you, taking notes, making marks, poking you when you moved, and making suggestions to Narcissa about changes that would better accentuate your figure. You just stood there and let the two of them make the decisions. You didn’t feel that you had much of a stake in the wedding anyways. What more was the dress? Eventually, however, they separated you from the dress, Malkin placing it back in the garment bag and zipping it up so that when Draco returned, he wouldn’t see it, not that it mattered much. Your marriage had been doomed from the start.

“Dear,” she interrupted your thoughts. “I’ll schedule one more fitting with you when it’s done. Lady Malfoy was saying the wedding will be in late June?”

“Summer Solstice,” you said. “But Narcissa is doing most of the scheduling since I’m still in school, so it may be better to schedule the fitting with her.” You felt bad for deflecting, but you genuinely didn’t know much of anything going on with this event.

“Oh, of course, I’ll be sure to do that,” she said, and as you turned to leave, she stopped you. “I noticed you were quiet during the fitting, is there anything you’d like included in the dress? It is your wedding, isn’t it?”

“I love peonies,” you said, then turned to leave, not wanting to speak about the dress anymore, it playing to your anxieties for some reason. When you reached the front door of the shop, you were met by Draco and Narcissa, who had gone to retrieve him while you were changing. “I’m sure it’s just as bad for the bride to see the groom in his wedding ware,” you said to Narcissa. “Would you mind if I stepped out for a moment?”

“No, darling go right ahead,” she said, and as you exited, you caught Draco’s eyes. While you may have fooled his mother, you knew in that second you hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that he knew you pretty well, but you quickly made your way out of the shop and down the alley.

When you were sure they couldn’t see you, you slipped into a practically empty Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, devoid besides two quintessential red-heads.

“Y/n!” You heard Fred’s energetic and happy voice from the top of the shop.

“Come quickly, I haven’t long,” you urged, although instantly regretting your request as each of the twins apparated only a centimeter away from you on each side.

“What’re you doing here?” George asked.

“Getting Narcissa Malfoy’s old wedding dress fitted for my wedding,” you whispered as if you were worried that she could hear you.

“No,” the two whispered in unison, to which you nodded in confirmation.

“Draco is getting his robes fitted, and I used the whole bad omen thing as an excuse to sneak out. I just wanted to see you two,” you said. You had begun breathing easy again for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“We’re happy to see you, Y/n,” George said, all sense of humour aside.

You pulled four letters out of your pocket on the inside of your coat, “These are for you two, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione if you can get it to her.”

“Ron doesn’t get one?” Fred asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

“I figured he and Harry would share I didn't have all that much time,” you answered. “I had ought to be going. Please send letters once I’m back at school I’ve missed both of you.”

“We’ll send you half the store-” George started

“-A care package,” Fred finished his thought, and you pulled the twins into a hug.

“Stay strong,” they said from either side of you.

“Stick to what you know is right,” Fred said.

“We know William would be proud of you,” George said. The twins had known your brother well since he had been a close friend of their older brother Bill's. William had been a Gryffindor as well, and he played quidditch alongside Bill. He had been the reason why doing something other than what your family had set out for you could even be perceived as an option. 

“Thank you,” you whispered before disappearing out of the door. It was relieving to see them even for just that moment, and you were comforted when you noticed that Draco and Narcissa hadn’t ventured out of Madam Malkin’s just yet. You took the time you had left to rush into Flourish and Blott’s, a place they would expect to find you in. Of course, not long after you hurried in, Draco sauntered in, finding you in the potions section near the front of the store.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, not mentioning the look you had shared earlier, and you nodded.

“Call me predictable, but I do love books,” you again found yourself lying through your teeth.

“Well, my mother has returned to the manor. She expects us to go get lunch if you’re up to it.”

“Absolutely,” you said, the hesitance on your voice obvious.

“But?” He asked.

“Would you mind if we went and picked up a couple of pants, my mum didn’t pack me any, and I just really hate how cold my legs get in these dresses,” you said, gesturing to the dress and tights you were currently wearing.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said, and you perked up a bit. “I just don’t know where to go.”

“I’ve got somewhere you’ll love,” you said, and being that money is of no consequence to either of you, you showed Draco to Bond St. somewhere you only knew of because of a shopping-obsessed cousin of yours.

You found it surprisingly amusing shopping at muggle stores with Draco. You were both well respected in the shops you entered, which you assumed him to appreciate, along with the clothes' general quality and style. You enjoyed picking out clothing for him, finding a particular oversized black turtleneck and tight slack duo a bit enticing. 

Draco, while enjoying the fashion, also enjoyed seeing you loosen up. He was aware you had slipped into the Weasley’s shop, but it didn’t bother him as much now that he was able to see you relax just a little bit with him. Indeed he didn’t find it boring to watch you trying on incredibly beautiful clothing, and he loved sneaking money too whoever was helping you and surprising you with the purchase. At this point, he didn’t know how to express his love to you otherwise, and he wanted to do so; however, he possibly could.

This went on for longer than either of you anticipated, although it was more fun than tiring or boring. Eventually, once you had made it through your last store, you finally made it to the restaurant you had been meant to go to in the first place. It wasn’t long before you were seated, your many bags stowed in coat-check. 

“I have to admit today’s been more, well, fun than I assumed it would be,” you said as you opened the menu.

“I’m glad,” Draco said, an unmistakably kind smile on his face.

A waiter came to your table relatively quickly, “Good evening.” 

“Good evening,” you greeted kindly.

“I am afraid you will not be needing these menus as today you are being treated by the Chef,” the waiter informed as he collected the menus from you. “Any allergies we should be aware of?”

“None,” Draco said and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir, I’ll be back shortly with drinks.”

“This really is lovely, Draco,” you said as you settled into your seat.

“Anything for you,” he said and smiled at you.

You couldn’t help but question him again for just a moment, was this more of that image you had promised to maintain, but there was no one to prove your relationship to. Could it be genuine, could it be that he lied to you that morning in the courtyard?

The dinner continued on in the same pleasant fashion as your day had. You and Draco exchanging banter as you had earlier. You both took your time with each other and with the evening, allowing yourselves for once to truly enjoy the other's presence. It helped that the food was incredible and the atmosphere utterly romantic. The lights dim, and the sound of sensual jazz playing live, allowing your senses to fizz along with the music like the champagne in front of you. At the end of the night, Draco didn’t even consider letting you pay, although you promised to get him back, which he believed. Being that the coat-check was run by a very kind witch, you didn’t have to worry about your bags.

“I guess we have to go back now,” you said, clearly not too happy about that fact as you both exited the restaurant as you made your way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best to you in the past, but I’m here for you. Alright? Whatever you need, I’ve got you,” Draco said, the sympathy in his voice still slightly jarring.

You reached out, took his hand, and smiled weakly. Not only were thoughts of your parents approaching lunch on your mind, but you were beginning to believe him. “Thank you, Draco.”

“You two must have had an eventful day,” She said, referring to the bags that arrived before you along with your late arrival time.

“I thought I’d take my girlfriend out on a proper date,” Draco said, placing a kiss on your cheek, causing a soft blush to rise up.

“Well, I’m glad you two had a good day,” Narcissa said and smiled.

“Yes, thank you for the suggestion,” you nodded.

“So, tomorrow, a wedding planner will be here to meet with Y/n and I for the full day,” she said to you. “So Draco, you can work on those errands we had spoken about.”

There were those errands you had heard mention so many times, which you found never failed to make Draco tense up.

“Alright, well, I’ll be off to bed. I was just waiting up to see you home safely,” Narcissa rose, closing her book as she left the room, the tea following her up the stairs.

You were left in the foyer with Draco, and neither of you were sure what to say. 

“Well, it seems we both have another full day ahead of us,” he said after a moment of silence. “So, we should probably head upstairs.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nodded, still so close to him you were alarmed by the tension between you too.

“Today was nice,” he said. “I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

You nodded again. It felt like your brain was turning to mush as all you could smell was him, his musky cologne, and minty shampoo intoxicating. The darkness of the manor seemed to close around the two of you, lit only by the fire you were standing in front of. 

“Let me walk you up to your room,” Draco said, offering you his hand, which you kindly took, escorting you to your door, departing once you disappeared inside.

As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Here he was again, soft, kind, and caring, and so incredibly confusing. A part of you loved being around him, joking with him, throwing playful insults back and forth, and merlin you couldn’t get over his cologne or how badly you wanted to run a hand through his perfect platinum blonde hair. But another part of you couldn’t help but see the cruel bully who didn’t mind making your life as hellish as possible, who didn’t think twice before shouting your private life out for the entire school to hear, and you couldn’t help but question whether or not everything he said to you was a lie or was the truth. Not to mention those mysterious meetings and errands. Eventually, your busy mind found sleep, although you found yourself shooting awake every so often due to terrible nightmares. You couldn’t sort them out but images of your father standing over you while you sat in a pool of your own sharp red blood, a sea of well-dressed purebloods at your wedding with Voldemort looming over you and Draco. Every time you awoke, you were nervous that you had awoken Draco. Although you had no evidence, you had awoken the other girls in your dorm with your screams more than a few times in the past six years.

You awoke, absolutely exhausted from the sleepless night, but you dragged yourself out of bed, wanting not to be late for your appointments with Narcissa and the wedding planner, although, after yesterday, you were sure that the two of them would be making most of the decisions while you looked pretty and nodded in agreement on topics that made you feel sick. You donned a perfectly simple yet elegant black dress and headed downstairs in the hope of finding breakfast and, more importantly, tea. You found Draco sitting in the same spot you had found him in yesterday and the day before eating a green apple.

“Good morning,” you greeted as he swallowed the bite he had just taken.

“Good morning. Did you sleep, alright?” He asked, his voice laced in concern revealing to you that he may be aware of your restless night.

You resigned to nodding, unsure of how to answer, and not wanting to outright lie but also not wanting to reveal your nightmares in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I got this for you,” Draco said, sliding a book towards you. Your screams had awoken him a few times through the night, but he chose to ignore your dismissal of his question, trusting that you would come to him when you needed him.

“What is it?” You asked, picking up the old book and examining the cover.

“Open it,” said Draco softly.

You did as instructed, finding an envelope inside addressed to Draco from Theodore Nott. You were puzzled but opened it up to find parchment covered in Harry’s messy scrawl.

Dear Y/n

You peeked at the beginning of the letter, excitement raging in your stomach. “Draco, how-” you whispered, your tone shifting back to the one he was used to hearing from you.

“Read it later,” he said smartly, and you nodded, tucking the letter back into the book. “I’m sure there’ll be more, but that one came this morning.”

You caught his eyes and held eye contact with him, all sincerity falling over you, “Draco, thank you, I know this, that my friendship with them isn’t easy for you. You don’t know what this means to me, what you doing this for me means.”

Your words struck Draco, he knew you’d be happy, but he didn’t consider entirely what it would mean to you. He was so deep in his thoughts, he was deeply startled by the kiss you placed on his cheeks. Although momentary, he knew he’d never forget the feeling of your soft lips on his face. The moment absolute bliss, he simply craved another when you stood back up. He wished he would grab your hand, pull you down onto his lap and kiss you back properly, but he wanted to give you the time you deserved. This touch, unlike many you had exchanged, was genuine.

“Anything for you, Y/n,” said Draco. They were the only words that he could think to say.

“Oh no, am I interrupting a moment?” Narcissa asked, half-way through her entrance to the kitchen. 

You snapped the book shut, and straightened yourself up, the kiss you gave Draco affecting you more than you thought such a modest action could possibly affect you. 

“No! Don’t worry, Draco was just surprising me with a book I didn’t think I’d be able to get otherwise,” you said, your words thinly veiled to the boy sitting next to you.

Narcissa smiled, excited that you two were getting on so well. “Well, I am sorry to interrupt, but we have an appointment in the sitting room.”

“Of course,” you said before turning to Draco. “Thank you again, Draco, have a lovely day.”

“You as well, darling,” he said and smiled back at you, watching intently as you left the kitchen alongside his mother. 

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over him as he saw you redraw your walls as you walked away. This wasn’t the life you deserved, and he could only feel that he was locking you into it, but somehow at the same time, he was your last chance at survival, and as you had pointed out in September, it could’ve been several guys, but he was glad it had been him. He sat with his thoughts for a while longer before rising to get about the terror of a day he had ahead of him.

Your day wasn’t much better. The sea of colors, choices, flowers, linens, menu options, types of chairs, different styles of canopies, and the list only seemed to grow every time you thought you’d reached the end. At the very least, the planner was sensible and didn’t talk your ear off about how exciting it was for you to get married. It was as if she understood that you, as a sixteen-year-old, wasn’t exactly anticipating this nor expecting it to be the best day of your life. Nevertheless, there was a mountain of things to get done. Narcissa helped with it all, honestly, she was more excited about the whole thing than you were, but you didn’t mind. The woman had shown you nothing but kindness, and her happiness brought a bit of lightness to your dark world.

“And I have a list of Master Malfoy’s groomsmen, but not your bridesmaids, ma’am,” the planner, Alexandra, directed this statement to you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hadn’t considered bridesmaids, and the thought of having anyone but Hermione, Ginny, and Luna with you made you want to burst out in tears. But it was evident that you couldn’t have them. “I guess, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengrass,” you paused, entirely unsure of anyone else you knew who wouldn’t be murdered for stepping foot at this event.

“Well, your fiancé only has three groomsmen, so you really only need one more,” she noted, and you looked to Narcissa for help. 

“My cousin’s daughter, Ismelda Rosier, is coming, and I’m sure she’d love to be a bridesmaid,” Narcissa said, smoothly saving you, and you released a silent breath of relief which admittedly didn’t last long as the thought of spending your wedding celebrating with two girls you hated and one you didn’t know settled in your mind.

You continued sorting through the many tasks till darkness fell, and you were interrupted by your knight in shining armor, Draco. 

“I think eggshell linens would be lovely,” he said as he entered the sitting room, approaching the table the three of you had gathered at. “Pardon my interruption, but dinner is ready. Will you be joining us, Miss-”

“Alexandra Frey,” she introduced herself. “No, but thank you for the invitation. I’ve got lots of work to do, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ll be back next week, the same day?” 

Narcissa nodded, “Thank you for your time Alexandra, we’ll see you next week.”

You stood and made your way to Draco, excited to get away from the headache you’d spent your day dealing with. “You are my knight in shining armor,” you whispered in his ear. “If I had to talk about napkins for one more second, I’m going to find a window.” 

Draco laughed quite loudly, causing Narcissa to sharply turn around, “What are you two giggling about?” She asked although a smile was on her face.

“Mother, I’m going to have to confiscate my fiancée from you. I’m afraid you’re going to kill her with talk of napkins.”

Narcissa shook her head, she hadn’t heard her son laugh like that in years, and it brought light to her heart to watch you bring it forth with such ease. “You know, after today, I’m quite tired. I think I’ll take dinner in my room if you don’t mind. You two go ahead and eat,” she said, and neither of you offered any debate.

“Thank you, Narcissa,” you said sweetly, and she nodded as you both headed off into the dining room. You chose the seat next to the head of the table as was social protocol, although Draco swept around you, electing to sit closer to you.

“It’s just us, I doubt anyone will care,” he said as he sat down.

“Mister Malfoy, how incredibly improper of you, whatever will I do with such a mannerless man?” You teased, your exhaustion accompanied by this morning's gesture emboldening you.

“I guess you’ll have to find peace with the fact that you’re to marry a beast who does not know his table manners, Miss Y/l/n,” he teased right back.

“I may just faint,” you said breathily, mockingly wobbling in your seat.

That laugh, that vivid, rolling laugh that reminded you kindly of waves meeting the sand, returned to your ears.

“So, how is our wedding turning out?” He asked as drinks, and your first course appeared on your plates.

“For one, I think it is preposterous that the only reason I am apart of planning and you aren’t is because I am a woman, and you are a man,” You said, as you lightly touched his nose to emphasize your point. “You are most likely way better at these things than I am. And second, my bridesmaids are Pansy, Astoria, and your cousin Ismelda, so that’s exciting.”

“Merlin, Pansy is going to hate that.”

“How was your day?”

“Certainly not as interesting as yours,” he masterfully dodged your question, which you let drop.

You continued talking, going back and forth just as you had Sunday night, but tonight was slightly different. You had started to trust him, brick by brick taking down a wall just for him, and he was beginning to understand you. Again you found the time you spent with him to be incredibly pleasant, pleasant enough for you to occasionally notice butterflies rattle around in your stomach.

When dinner ended, and it was time for you to both get to bed, you somehow both rose from your chairs on the same side. Luckily Draco had some of his whits about him and gracefully caught you by the shoulders, holding you just far enough away so that you wouldn’t bump into him but close enough so that it felt like your stomach was being shredded, his lips just centimeters away and the dim light suddenly feeling very romantic. But you just stepped back and allowed him to show you up to your room.

You awoke Wednesday morning, the monotony of your routine beginning to set in. You found your way back into the closet and picked out another perfect little black dress your mother had provided you along with a corset underneath to cinch your waist and a matching sweater. You styled your hair precisely as she would like it and followed with your makeup, applying it with an expert hand. 

It was around nine when you made your way downstairs and into the kitchen to find that you were the first to arrive.

“Good morning,” you greeted the house-elf, whose name you still didn’t know.

“Are you talking to Zilsey, Miss?” she asked you.

“Of course, and please, when it’s just us, call me, Y/n,” You requested kindly.

She nodded, “Did Zilsey do something wrong, Miss?”

“No! No, I just wanted to say hello and good morning,” you said, softening your tone as much as you could.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Can Zilsey get you anything, miss?”

“No, thank you Zilsey, is breakfast out on the table?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss, it is.”

“Thank you, Zilsey.”

You sat down at the breakfast table. You weren’t hungry, in fact, you were mostly nauseous with nerves at the thought of the day that was ahead of you. You poured yourself some tea and found an apple. You sat with yourself and your tea for a while until Draco appeared in similar black attire.

“Good morning,” he greeted, another book in hand, and you perked up a bit.

“Good morning,” you stood to greet him.

“This is for you,” he said, passing you the book, and you took it.

“Thank you, Draco,” you said with the same sincerity you had the day before.

“Anything for you,” he said, kindness softening his grey eyes.

“Do you mind if I read it?” You asked as you both sat down in your respective spots.

“No darling, go ahead,” said Draco as he started placing food on his plate.

You opened the letter from ‘Pansy Parkinson’ underneath the table as a layer of precaution. Excited to see Hermione’s neat scrawl and your name at the top.

Y/n,

I miss you so much I hope that you are staying safe and everything is going well. Harry told me that Draco came to him and Ron on the train and told them to write to you through him. Did he come up with this on his own? I think you should ask him about the morning in the courtyard again, I have the feeling that there is more to what’s going on than what he’s told you. 

Everything is going well on my side of things, I still haven’t been in touch at all with Ron, but I know that Harry and Ginny are doing well, but if they haven’t written you yet, I am sure they will soon. Harry has a whole conspiracy theory going around Draco, and I’m positive he is going to ask your thoughts, although he may wait until we return to school. He said that he’s worried Draco is reading these, but I doubt it. I’ve got a wonderful Christmas present for you, but I’ll wait to give it to you until we return.

Please know that I’m here for you no matter what and that I love you.

Stay safe and write me when you can,

Hermione.

“Thank you for these Draco, I really can’t say it enough,” you said once you finished the letter.

He nodded, “Anything for you.”

“Hermione says I should give you the benefit of the doubt,” you said as you folded the letter back into its envelope. You knew exactly what you were doing with those words.

Draco swallowed the pumpkin juice he had just picked up. “Does she?”

Elegantly, you nodded, “She does.”

You knew this was enough to tell him that your feelings for him existed and that you were considering something real, something better than this game of tennis you had been playing.

“Well, she is the smartest witch in our year.”

“I thought that was me,” you smirked.

Draco smiled, and playfully shook his head at you.

Breakfast continued, full of banter and flirting, and as you were waiting for the events of the day, you moved into the sitting room. Although eventually, your parents arrived, and the second they were announced, you hastily reconstructed your walls and straightened your back. Draco, picking up on every little change in habit you exhibited.

While it wasn’t raining outside, it was quite chilly, although Narcissa had utilized magic to put up a sort of weather-proof bubble around the outdoor dining set, allowing the lunch to take place out in the Malfoy’s beautiful garden. Even in winter, flowers, vines, trees, and hedges thrived green, white, silver, and blood red. Despite this, the gardens seemed cold, lifeless, and fake.

You and Draco made your way through the fog to the transparent bubble that sat in the center of a clearing out past the maze and under a series of trees and vines where your parents were waiting.

“There are the love birds,” Narcissa said gently.

“We were waiting for you all in the sitting room when the elf announced your presence,” Draco explained, catching your mother's judgmental gaze on you.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t been out here for more than a few minutes,” said Narcissa.

You assumed your seat next to Draco and across from your mother as sandwiches and teas appeared on the table before you. The lunch went as the dinner before it had, your parents focusing entirely on you and your mother shooting snide remarks about your appearance or your attitude whenever she could fit them in, although this time, your respite was a glass of champagne and holding onto Draco’s hand under the table.

“Layah, I’m sorry you aren’t able to make any of the appointments with the wedding planner. I’m sure you’d love to see how it's all getting along,” Narcissa said.

“Oh, I trust you completely with all that Narcissa, it really isn’t in my area of interest,” she said.

You were surprised that she wasn’t, in fact, more controlling over this whole process, although it was likely because she just wanted rid of you. Lunch continued on, and as it did, you noticed the stares you were receiving from your father, typically, he would just ignore you. In fact, the only time you received this much attention from his was when you screwed up.

As tiny desserts and espresso hit the table, your father rose from his seat. “If you don’t mind Y/n and I are going to go on a walk, I’d love the opportunity to talk to her, Father to Daughter,” he said to gritted teeth, taking your wrist tightly in his hand, and departing, dragging you along with him before anyone could say anything.

He took you inside and upstairs, shoving you into the first open guest room he could find and instantly cornering you. 

“Your mother and I have been made aware that you’ve found yourself in the arms of Harry Potter more than once and that now he is writing to you here. Now usually, I would have your mother deal with such slip-ups. However, we have also been made aware that you slipped away in Diagonal Alley the other day to see some Weasleys. I thought you would’ve learned from your brother's mistakes.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say as the shock of him finding you out rose to your expression.

“Don’t think we don’t have eyes on you, girl. Now, what do you have to say for yourself, considering slip-ups of the same nature are what got your brother his early spot in the grave,” 

“Father, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll do better,” you recited the taught promise. You couldn’t think, the persistent reminder of William and the overbearing presence of your father overwhelming your mind. 

He glowered at you, “You know that promises are not enough. We really did expect more from you, Y/n.” 

“I know, sir, I apologize-” 

In order to shut you up, William raised his left hand and backhanded you, the sharp cold ring bearing your family crest cutting your from the bottom of your cheek to just under your eye.

“You will not be embarrassing your mother or me after we leave on the errand,” He said, spitting on the ground next to you as you pressed yourself into the wall as you clenched your eyes closed. “Look at me when I speak to you!” He roared as he pulled out his wand and held it to your neck.

“Yes, sir! Yes, I’m sorry,” you sobbed, but when you looked up at him, he silently cast a dark spell that began to open the scars that littered your back, one you had experienced twice just this past summer. 

As the curse started to take effect, you fell to your knees, and the man standing above, you stepped back in order witness to his work. When you were down, tears started streaming down your face from the pain, and you were focused on the screaming wounds on your back. He grabbed your hair in a fist and pulled your face up so that you’d have to look him in the eye as your blood seeped into the fabric on your back. 

“You’re just a stupid little girl unable to comprehend the world around her. You’re not to ruin the legacy our family has worked so painfully hard to craft, you’ll shut up and be a pretty little face. You’ll marry Draco, you’ll stand by as we win this war, and you’ll have pureblood babies. You’ll be the Malfoy’s problem, and you’ll bear their name, but I won’t allow you to blatantly write off everything this family stands for. Your opinion, your thoughts, that overactive brain of yours doesn’t matter. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” you croaked. 

“Ah, I’ve been looking for you sir,” Draco’s sudden presence caused your father to drop you and turn towards the entrance of the room where Draco was standing. He stood in front of you in an attempt to cover you considering your current state. “Would you mind if I stole Y/n for a moment? My mother wanted to speak with her. Although if you two-“

“No, no son, please go right ahead. I was just saying my goodbyes. Layah and I will actually be leaving now.”

Your father turned back to you, muttering the counter curse to the torture he had started, then giving you a terrifyingly venomous glare before striding out of the room. Not before giving Draco a kind nod. Once he was gone, you let out a sob you had desperately been trying to hold in.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Draco rushed over to you, dropping to his knees.

"The corset,” you murmured. You didn’t have nearly enough breath to allow for speech to come freely.

Draco pulled out his wand to unzip your dress and quickly undo your corset, ridding you of it as soon as he possibly could. Once he saw all the open scars on your back and the blood that had soaked through all of the layers of your dress, he muttered a nearly silent, “vulnera sanentur” which painfully closed the now fresh wounds. Every one of them turning into angry red scabs and flesh, and the cut on your cheek closing into a raised red line across your face.

“Can you stand at all?” Draco asked you, and you nodded, despite being unsure. “Here,” he muttered, and he picked you up, avoiding touching your back as best he could. He carried you down the hall and into his room, softly sitting you down on his bed. Draco disappeared into his closet, quickly returning with a plain sweatshirt and a pair of his boxers. “Let me help you put these on,” he offered, and you accepted, enveloped in pain you weren’t thinking of much besides your throbbing back.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you want to lay down?” He asked, he was rushed and worried, entirely unsure of how exactly he could help you.

“He knows Draco, he knows about Harry, about the letters, he knows that I went to see Fred and George,” you cried. “I don’t know how he could know.”

Draco sat down in the middle of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he laid you down from your sitting position so that your head was resting on his lap, “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

“He said that they’ve been watching me. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid to think I could get away with anything,” you said as another sob racked your body.

“I promise you that I’ll never let something like this happen to you again,” he said in a soft and gentle whisper.

“Do you love me, Draco?” you asked, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he could hear you.

This caught him off guard, but after a minute, you heard him respond, “Of course I do, I have for years.”

“Then, why?” you were referring to the last term and the hell he had put you through.

He drew a breath in, he couldn’t very well lie to you now, “I- well there’s just a lot going on and I. Well, I’m involved in something that could get you seriously hurt, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your death because I-” he looked up at the wall to collect his thoughts for a moment then looked back down at you. “I love you, and I didn’t want to tell you now, here, l really care about you, and I don’t know how to convey it because you- you’re perfect and I’m just an asshole, and I don’t know how to do anything but hurt you. You emerged from all of this, from the abuse and the lies about blood purity a better person, and I just let them turn me into one of their own, a pawn.”

It took you a while to think about what he said, the lack of blood, the exhaustion, and the adrenaline seeping out of your body, causing you to take longer than you might usually. You placed your hand over his, the one that was resting on his knee, your voice was lighter and lower than a whisper, “We can fight on the right side of this war, Draco, even in secret, but we’re all that we’ll have. You don’t have to be their pawn. I know your heart is in the right place. You just have to trust me.”

He folded down and stared into your eyes, inches away from your face. After a few moments, your lips met, exchanging a delicate and telling kiss. You loved him, you cared about him, you felt safe with him, and the two of you wouldn’t be your parents. You would make a better legacy for your families. You would change the tide.

-

Part 6 - The Onyx Ring

Tag list-

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[kingreywrites]

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

[sondepoch]

Silly Human, Surrounded by Demons

Every single book from the human world warned you against them.

The lessons were built into the very foundation of your mind, concepts that you should have committed to your heart long before you ever came to the Devildom.

Demons lie. Demons sin. Demons kill. And they have no qualms about any of their transgressions.

What foolery ever made you think they were different? What ignorance compelled you to believe the utter shit that Diavolo spewed into your ear? What raw stupidity made you think that these manifestations of evil were good?

It feels so obvious now—all the signs.

And there were so many goddamn signs.

You should have raised your eyebrows when you learned that RAD was a school. You should have guarded your heart from that very second, because why the fuck would these creatures that have lived thousands of years need to pursue an education for that long? Humans can hardly tolerate two decades of education before taking up a new occupation; millennia is torture.

But when Lucifer spoke about the student exchange program, you nodded along dumbly. Too mesmerized by the grandeur of the hall around you and the beauty of the men in front of you to ever realize how they stared at you like meat, as if you were being slow-cooked to perfection before their very eyes and they were just waiting for the moment when they could eat you.

They even made jokes about it, didn't they?

Beel's unending comments about his hunger, all made while staring straight into your eyes. Asmo's repeated jokes about tasting you, jokes that always felt more anticipating than they did sexual. Mammon's constant refusal to let other demons near you, saying that they would spoil you. Like you were milk and he didn't want you to curdle. Like you were a soul he was waiting to devour, and he didn't want you to get dirty.

Of course, you never picked up on it. You smiled when they smiled and laughed when they laughed, never realizing that their humor was sourced from your utter ignorance.

How blind you were.

It was as if the moment you entered the Devildom, your brain completely shut off.

You never questioned the strangeness of Simeon's demeanor. Barely thought twice about how his outfit was hardly fit for an angel, merely deluded yourself into thinking that the softness of his hair correlated to a softness in his nature. You never realized that he and Luke were the only creatures to stay in their humanoid form. That they never revealed any halos or wings to you. That they emanated the same spirit of darkness as all the demons around you, the only difference being a superficial change in their uniforms and the title "angel" that had been cast upon their shoulders, a lie to delude you into a sense of security.

And it worked.

You felt at home with the demons, and you felt so safe every time you encountered the false angels.

Why, you suppose Luke did the best job of them all.

It's an impressive feat, given that he is the youngest—but now that all the demons you've come to know have transformed into their true forms, you realize that his childlike appearance was nothing more than a trick of magic. That every ounce of hatred he claimed to bear for demons was one meant for your kind. That you had been wholly and utterly deceived by a demon you once named your adopted little brother, the creature no more an angel at heart than he is a sibling to you.

The very thought sends a pang of pain straight to your heart.

A shudder runs of your spine, the instinctive movement only serving to further alert you in your conditions, but no amount of adrenaline can save you now.

You can hardly see. You can hardly hear. You can hardly feel, save for the cold sensation of the iron shackles that hold your body up.

But you can think.

And the more you think, the more obvious it all becomes.

It never struck you as odd that an ancient king of Israel was your classmate. No, you bought into the notion that you were truly at RAD because you were an exchange student, and you believed Diavolo when he said that Solomon was just like you.

A lie.

One among many.

The sorcerer was your only chance to live, your only chance to escape. He was the only man you met who wasn't a demon, who wasn't quietly laughing at your every move, who wasn't waiting to feast on your soul. Solomon was the only out you ever had—and maybe, just maybe, if you had taken the opportunity to befriend him, he might have told you the truth of your situation and helped you leave.

But from the very first day, Lucifer warned you that Solomon was shady. That Solomon was evil. That Solomon would hurt you.

And so put up your defenses against the only person who might have saved you.

But then again, isn't he the man who doomed you in the first place?

A weak sound vibrates in your throat as you attempt to speak, but the magic that binds you is even stronger than the iron around your wrists. Your voice is gone, the equivalent of nothing when faced with such potent magic. The reality of your situation weighs on your shoulder, weighs on your soul.

It is the final push you need.

You can practically feel the moment your soul splits, your resolve shattering alongside your heart, the essence of you opening up like a clam to reveal a most beautiful pearl inside.

The sound of laughter, sharp and cruel, rings out from in front of you, and you hear the voice of the only other human in the realm.

"There it is," He drawls, his voice penetrating the magic he's wrapped you in to keep your senses dulled. "Seasoned to perfection."

"And so it is." Diavolo's voice echoes inside the small chambers of your foolish, foolish brain." I think this soul might be your best work yet, Solomon."

A pause. Long, but only because Diavolo knows that it tortures you to be unable to move or see, only able to cling to the fragments of what you can hear.

"This is what, Solomon? The seventy-fourth?"

"The seventy-third."

"Very well. I'd choose for you, but this human's soul looks especially...appetizing." If you weren't frozen in place, the tone in Diavolo's voice would make you tremble. "You may select anyone in this room."

And there it is.

The truth you should have seen from the start.

A human soul in exchange for a demon's pledge. A feast for many in exchange for a pact between two. The peak of temptation in exchange for the epitome of strength.

The clues were always there. But you've only pieced them together when it's too late.

You don't need to see to know that Solomon is approaching Lucifer. You don't need to hear to understand the circumstances that have killed you. It is perhaps the first time you don't even need to think to know such an intrinsic truth, that the mage has used you in his quest for power, his quest for control, his quest for strength, a journey which renders lives like yours nothing but casualties along the way.

"Would you like me to remove the magic before you begin your feast?"

"Yes." Immediately, a rush of sensation overcomes your body, the coldness of the air stinging your skin. And then your senses are on fire. "After all, the human soul is so much more delicious when it is in pain."

Your mouth opens the moment Solomon's magic releases you from its bounds. You're ready to beg. To plead. To cry and strip yourself of every ounce of dignity if it means you won't need to bear the agony of having your soul ripped to shreds and eaten by the demons around you.

But the only sound that leaves your mouth is a deafening scream, because they've already begun to devour you.

And you have to ask yourself once more: how dumb can you possibly be?

There is no hope, there is no salvation. There never was and there never will be.

There is only pain as you listen to your screams mingled with Solomon's receding footsteps as he walks away from his freshly-made pact and the demons who remain, little gasps of pleasure rolling off their tongues as they savor the most delicious meal they've had in millennia.

And between the most excruciating pain you've ever felt and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that paints your agony darker, a single mantra echoes in your mind.

You should have known they were lying.

It is your final thought, before pain trumps all else and even your thoughts have been set afire.

You should have known they were lying.

[pjstafford]

Meditation on The Mind of Winter song by David Duchovny.

David Duchovny's newest album is Gestureland. The song Mind of Winter is not my favorite song off the album, but it is the song that causes me to think the most. The Mind of Winter reference is to a poem by Wallace Stevens called The Snow Man. Some recent viewers of The Chair likely heard David Duchovny strumming his guitar and singing a few lines from Mind of Winter and heard Sandra Oh say "That's the only rock song I've heard that references Wallace Stevens" With all of that as the backdrop of this song, I wanted to share my thoughts on the lyrics.

First, let me express what the Stevens poem means to me. Worth noting that I did not study this poem in any academic sense or read much on it and so, my thoughts on it are my own and the reader of this may not agree or may have, in fact, more knowledge. However, these are my meditations. So, when I read The Snow Man I see two themes in opposition to each other (which is something that I enjoy).

The first is that the snowman must devoid himself of the emotion connected with winter to appreciate the landscape of winter. The second is that the snowman must be himself well familiar with cold and winter to see beyond the misery of winter and become unfeeling within that landscape.

The first appeals to me as a philosophy in that if we can devoid ourselves of preferring the beach in summer or knowing any of the literary imagery of the winter months or having walked in a snowstorm or fallen on ice, then we can experience the now and the moment and beauty of frost and junipers shagged with ice. It is the same way to me of how I see the beauty of the desert which is the environment in which I was raised and in which I now live. It has an amazing beauty if you stop associating it with concepts of a barren wasteland of heat and thirst.

The second causes my heart to feeze but I understand it so well. When you have lived without rain, then you can become accustomed to drought. In the poem then we take all the imagery of winter cold to heart and think that because I have not had warmth I have become immune to the element of cold. My emotions have frozen over because I have not felt the emotions of passion or caring I might prefer to have known.

This frames me, then, in a way for the contradictory elements in David Duchovny's song The Mind of Winter. The refrain hook of I swear that I'll be simpler is repeated in a song that seems to be not simple at all and sung by a character so complex that simpler is not possible. I have to remind myself that this is not a song of The Snow man. It is a song reflecting only a reference to the phrase The Mind of Winter from the poem The Snow Man.

So the song begins with a journey. As opposed to the snowman who cannot journey. There was weather everywhere on this journey and I bring in the emotion I have to the concept of "weather everywhere". That makes it a hard and dangerous "stormy" journey. A pretender on the throne could be someone usurping your place in a marriage or a stepfather to your kids, but it could also be a King or President who doesn't really belong in the position- but in looking back there didn't seem to be a silver-tongued pleaser who could rise to the times - another love to take the place in the relationship you've lost or possibly the person who could unite a nation?

Then the character explains the reason for the journey- if you hadn't put the words on me - if I could grow up and throw away the maps and geography. Did you tell me I was smart? Did you tell me I was born poor? Did you tell me I was a man and made me think toxic masculinity was the norm? Was I expected to get married? Was I expected to be a father? Was I expected to be a stud in order to be a man? How much of who I am and what I've done in my life is because of who I was told I was and what I was supposed to do? Can I become a better, more self-aware and self-actualized human being through this journey? Wow- that's a really great verse.

Then the chorus and If I come back sounds like he is not sure he will make it back due to the dangers of the journey, but it could also be that he will choose not to come back to the life he led or from which he fled. Perhaps he will be an expatriate never to return to his country. But if he does come back he will be simpler (I will wait to discuss this further). Then the refrain from The Snowman I"'ll have a mind of winter. (a mind that will live in the moment now on whatever landscape he finds himself, will not judge the moment or the landscape based on preconceptions or will learn to accept the frozen conditions of a life without love?}

The next verse is the verse I have the most difficultly understanding. I keep thinking there are references contained within this verse not to the Mind of Winter, but to other works I cannot connect. Certainly, the person is lost at sea without land in sight. Yet, he does not accept a landless condition or the beauty of the sea as a merman (a play on Snowman) might. This is a desperate man with no end in sight to his misery and in the fog which I am interpreting as the noise, the cloud, the environment which surrounds him, he sees blame and people pointing at him, blaming him, shaming him. Perhaps they are keeping him from the land because he is not deserving. He falls to his knees among the birds and dying bees. He is desperate. When I think of the birds and the bees I think of sex. But why the dying bees? Here I think this is a call to an environmental awakening because the bees are dying, folks! Then he tries to find his tongue to trace the maiden name of God. Ok, I still think of sex, but I also think of mother earth. I have heard about the rare Jewish use of the name El Shaddai which means nurturing God or the God that should be sufficient? I don't know enough about it to know if it fits within these words.

I need to have more knowledge or more meditation but for now, I think it has the double meaning of we are adrift with no way to solve our ecological disaster and restore mother earth and the man is adrift and is to blame and he must find his connection to the sacred within women so he can understand and relate to the harm he's done. Again, this is the verse I am the least sure about even my own interpretations or what I am reading into them.

However, the next verse reinforces what I believe I understood from the verse before which is that nature is wounded and we need to throw away all of our deadly philosophy around conquering, claiming, drilling and mining and learn to live in a more harmonious coexistent with mother earth. Also, that if I can feel my own pain and the pain of others and live the isolation I deserve then I can arrive at a place where I can both appreciate the landscape and the life I have at the moment I am in now AND that I have adjusted to the lack of warmth in my life enough to not seek warmth for the sake of warmth alone. Either way, the verse takes us back to the reason for the journey - I need to learn who I would be if I could shed myself of your deadly philosophy.

Then the chorus again. So does simpler mean I will have fewer expectations for myself? Does it mean I will stop consuming as much and try to leave a footprint of less ecological impact? I think it means both. I will have a mind of winter and be ok with where I am at now because that is all any of us can do. I will live life simpler so I don't destroy the planet more?

I think this song is very reflective of the title of the album Gestureland because we all want to reflect our identity and what it means - are we woke, or we politically correct, are we fuck the establishment, but all of that is complicated. Does the snowman have to wear a sign saying snowman for you to know that's what he is? Less noise. Simpler. But then I start thinking of everything is noise, and then the I can't reverse line from chapter and verse, and I am back to all the songs in the album which, without this being a theme album, fits so well together. Then I relisten to it all and find this is the song I stop at to mediate on a bit more.

Go to DavidDuchovny.com to read the lyrics to Mind of Winter and to wherever you find music to listen to it.

[frostsinth]

Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 4

Part 1 | 2 | 3 - MasterList

Picking up a bit of motivation for this story again. Yay! And sorry, the boys can’t seem to get it into their heads that this one is not their story. I’ll try to keep their visitation to a minimum.

But regardless, here’s more of the sass and himbo duo! If you like my work, consider supporting me by buying me a coffee from the link in my MasterList above. I have lots of other inane ramblings there too if you are interested. DM me for commissions, shoot me asks with thoughts/comments!

All the best, and Enjoy!

After a brief assessment away from the dizzying presence of the half-orc, I realized there was very little chance of the Royal quarters actually having what I needed. Nikostratus was the tallest and broadest in the family, and even he did not come very close to matching Erramun in height. Besides, I couldn’t imagine my neat and tidy older brother wouldn’t notice his clothing going missing. But the laundering rooms were near the bottom level of the castle, closer to the city than the towers. There was no telling if once I arrived I would be able to find some appropriate clothing with any ease, considering that laundry from every part of the castle was often washed in mixed tubs. There was also no way for me to know whose clothes would be on rotation for wash today, nor in what state, batch, or bin they might be in if I did find them. Which made a visit to the laundering rooms, while more anonymous and definitely more diverse, absolutely impractical for my devices. However, the guards quarters were not quite so far; only a few levels down and adjacent to the training cliffs. There, I knew, I would be most likely to find the belongings of perhaps the one resident in the entire goblin castle that might have a few items close enough to Erramun’s size.

It was an easy enough trip, though I tried to make it as hastily as possible. No guarantees of what that fool would get up to if I left him to his own devices for too long. I also wasn’t entirely sure he had been completely honest when he had said he could manage the bath. Considering his wooziness since I had met him in the forest, I worried he might just pass out in the water and drown. Not that my being there would be much help, I reasoned. I certainly wasn’t strong enough to haul a half-drowned half orc from the water should he require it. I was also more than a little perturbed with the recollection of the taut green skin running over his shoulders and muscular back. My mind supplied ample fodder for what might be waiting a little further down than my eye had succeeded in wandering during our prior parting. And the thoughts brought a hot flush to my cheeks. I quickly forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

Thankfully, the barracks were also mostly quiet. The majority of the guard would be on their daily patrols, or perhaps in the dining commons catching a meal beforehand. Any left here would be from night shift, so would most likely be resting in their bunks. I had been here often enough, and knew the layout by heart (as I knew most of the castle). I headed towards the largest of the chambers, near the back, where the General kept his private quarters. Retired General, he would say, should you care to ask him. Though considering he still managed to keep busy enough maintaining the guards and patrols, perhaps that was not the optimal word. His title was more ceremonial now than necessity, as he had the guard running like a perfectly well oiled machine, and more often than not you could find him with a drink in hand, laughing alongside the nobles in the sitting rooms of the castle. Still, I was glad General Damjan had maintained some personal quarters in the castle rather than permanently retiring outside its walls. It meant I might actually have a chance of finding a set of clothes that would fit my behemoth charge. I was also fortunate that although Damjan kept his private quarters locked, I knew exactly where the old soldier kept his key. 

Damjan was, in a sense, like a grandfather to me. He had been a major part of Grier’s life after his father’s passing, and when Nikostratus had moved to the castle he had taken my brother under his wing as well. So it fell to reason that he had me spoiled rotten by the time I was 11; teaching me all the best goblinese curses, and a few fighting moves that were certainly not proper for a Princess to know. The old half-goblin was also a sound source for advice, and had an ample stock of wisdom to share with anyone willing to listen. Therefore, I had been to visit him in his office and chambers more than a few dozen times over the years. Which meant I knew his rooms nearly as well as mine and Niko’s. Allowing me to steal in and out with as simple a shirt and pair of trousers as I could find and relock his door all within a matter of minutes. I was assuaged of the little stab of guilt I felt by the fact that if Damjan had been around to ask, he certainly would have been more than indulgent of my request. I simply just didn’t have the time right now to look for the old General to tell him I had another half-orc stashed upstairs in my private chambers. I made a silent promise to the universe that I would make him a plate of his favorite pastries to make up for it.

It had barely been half an hour since I had left Erramun when I skittered down an upper hallway back towards the towers. Still, despite having managed to avoid the entirety of the current inhabitants of the castle and with prize in hand, I was anxious to be back. I was so distracted by the thought of what the half orc would be doing alone in my bed chambers that I moved automatically and inattentively. Causing me to almost run head first into a goblin as we both rounded the same corner from opposite directions.

“Ah, little bird!” He exclaimed delightedly as we recovered ourselves.

I nearly squeaked in surprise, quickly hiding the bundle of clothes behind my back as Grier fixed me with his classic toothy smile. The goblin King seemed un-bothered by our near collision, though I had to work quickly to throw a cover over my guilty expression. I saw his scarlet eyes flick over me curiously at my movement, and one slender brow cocked up. I knew I would have to work fast to evade suspicion and make my escape. My brother-in-law was perpetually curious, and keenly observant. Prolonging our interaction would only heighten the chances that I would have to build a lie I wasn’t prepared to forge.

“Sorry, Grier, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I told him quickly, starting to slide around his side. Careful to face him as I did with my back and hands squarely out of his line of sight. “But I’m sure you’re very busy, so I won’t keep you!”

He spun slowly on heel to match my movement. “No trouble at all, little bird,” He replied, and I saw the suspicion already growing quickly on his face as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, “Nikostratus has been looking for you, you know.”

“Oh, he’s always looking for me,” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, shrugging my shoulders, “Mostly because the majority of that time he spends lost in the halls. Or searching a place he already checked having turned himself around and gone back on his own feet.”

Grier laughed at that, placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, the man is completely hopeless I fear.” He followed me a step down the hall as I started to retreat backwards. “But none-the-less… you seem to be making a particular point of avoiding him this time around.”

“I am just busy,” I started to assure him, “I-”

“Morgana, you know you have been avoiding us both since you first got here nearly a week ago.” He interrupted, his voice becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I am not sure what we did… or what you’re hiding… but please keep in mind you have the same air of secrecy about you as when you rescued that bear cub from the forest when you were 15.” He shifted his hands to cross his arms over his chest. His thin lips twitching in amusement. “It was halfway through the kitchen pantry before you finally came clean… I do hope you’ve learned your lesson since then?”

I gave a nervous, forced laugh. “I haven’t smuggled in any wild animals, I promise.” Which was technically true.

He gave an unconvinced ‘hmmm’ at that. “But you do know you can talk to us, yes?” He asked quickly, even as I opened my mouth to continue, “About anything that may be bothering you.” His head tilted slightly to one side. “... Nikostratus is worried about you.”

I felt a little tongue of anger flare up in me at that. “I’m not a child anymore.” I scoffed, my brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t need nor want my brother hovering over me like some agitated mother hen!”

Grier considered that as well, and I started to take a few steps backwards down the hall. Eager to make my escape. Shaking my head in frustration and thinking that was the end of it. My brother-in-law was not usually the confrontational sort with me. He was good at gathering information, at poking holes in my defenses; but I tended to think he preferred to be my confidant rather than my guardian. We had developed a rather close relationship since he had married my brother, mostly revolving around how best to manage my tight lipped, straight backed sibling. It had been a rocky start for the two of them, and I had exclusive inside knowledge of how best to break through Niko’s stony exterior. In later years, he had more often than not come to my defense when my brothers had sought to disperse punishments, or withhold liberties. He understood my wild spirit better than either of them, and that it caused my siblings and I to butt heads frequently. Not to say he wasn’t carefully responsible around me. He had taken me as his ward as much as Niko had back our mother had passed when I was born. But he usually left any actual scolding to my brothers.

Which was why I nearly stumbled in surprise when he persisted in the face of my irritation. Rather than letting it pass as he usually would.

“Well, that may be the case, little bird,” He said, even as I continued to inch away from him, “But regardless, you know your brother will always worry about you. And-” He continued before I could interject “- Even if you are upset with him, that is no reason to avoid your commitments. Most prominent being the promise you made to your nieces and nephews.”

That made me falter, and my retreat stilled. “... I didn’t mean-”

“You promised you would go with them to the gardens.” He pressed, not allowing me breath for excuses. The goblin raised one bejeweled hand, silencing any protests I might have had. “I understand if you would like your space from myself and Nikostratus, and I will speak to him about allowing you some. However, I would ask that you do not allow your current disdain to rub off on the children, as they have done nothing to raise your ire, and do not deserve your neglect.”

I winced now, guiltily. “I forgot I…” I hesitated, and half expected Grier to fill the lull, as he often did. But the goblin merely raised his brow at me again, and I shuffled in my shame. “... Of course. I’m sorry. I will be sure to collect them from their lessons today…” I couldn’t help a guilty glance over my shoulder, as if I would be able to see the clothes scrunched up behind my back. “... I just need to drop something off in my rooms first, then I promise I’ll go straight to see them.”

“I appreciate that.” He replied, nodding slightly. “I know you likely didn’t intend for them to get swept up in… whatever this is.” He crossed his arms again. “Still, I hope you and your brother reconcile soon.” His toothy grin returned. “I miss our little bird.”

I laughed softly, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I don’t think we’re fighting, per say...” I hesitated briefly, “...but I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“And I’ll keep in mind that being stubborn and hot tempered runs in the family.” He mused, his voice still light-hearted. “And will try to muster what patience I can to wait this out.”

I almost laughed again, but settled for a respectful dip of my head. I longed to inch away, back down the hall in the direction of my rooms. But waited as long as I could stand under the goblin King’s scrutiny to avoid any more suspicion. Grier did consider me one last time, then sighed and gave his own little nod. Turning to head off himself. No sooner had he started than I spun and darted down the hall. Pulling my bundle of clothes around to shield them from his view as I did. I wondered only briefly what he would make of that, but didn’t bother to linger on it long.

I took the steps to the tower two at a time, my heart pounding in my ears by the time I reached the top. Thankfully, no one else was around at that moment, and I made it back to my rooms unmolested.

I leaned back against my closed door with a brief sigh of relief. I hoped Grier wouldn’t go looking for Niko yet. I knew he would be inclined to tell my brother about our interaction; the two shared just about everything with one another. Still I hoped he might wait until much later in the day. To give me a chance to properly wrap things up here before one of the pair came looking for me again. I didn’t linger long against the wood, my eyes already darting about the small sitting room. But it seemed my strange company was nowhere to be seen. I had been away for far too long for him to be bathing still, I reasoned. Unless perhaps he was a particularly lazy orc, or was enjoying the hot, fresh water a bit too much. Not that I could picture such a thing, though I reminded myself I didn’t know him all that well after all. I gathered up the salve and bandages from before in my bundle, listening for any sounds I might hear. I noticed the door to the bathing rooms appeared to be as I had left it, and hesitantly made my way over. I quickly chided myself, straightening up and squaring my shoulders. These were my rooms. I shouldn’t have to sneak about shyly.

I did however allow him the courtesy of rapping my knuckles lightly against the sliding door.

“Hey, you still alive in there?” I called lightly.

When there was no response, my heart leapt, and I attempted to force down the sudden anxiety trapping itself in my throat. I cracked my knuckles against the door again, then slowly slid it open. More than a little leery of seeming something I didn’t want to see. Or admitting to myself that maybe it was something I did. The memory of our last parting surfaced unbidden to my thoughts, and I stubbornly pushed it away.

The bathing room beyond was empty. The waters rippled and gently gurgled with the natural flow of the water, but otherwise it was still. I might have been able to convince myself that the entire day had been a figment of my overactive imagination had it not been for the pile of soiled towels by the edge of the pool. I groaned internally, bustling in and peeking into the corners as if the behemoth man could have somehow managed to hide behind the potted plants. At least there didn’t appear to be a trail of blood anywhere. I prayed to whomever was listening that the dolt hadn’t deigned to leave the chambers.

“Where are you, you idiot?” I grumbled, tucking my bundle under one arm and heading to the door at the opposite end.

“In here.” Came the reply, and I nearly shook with relief.

He must have keener hearing than I thought. Or he had been listening for my return. The door to my bedroom was slightly cracked, and I shouldered it the rest of the way open, then spun to close it behind me. Using the motion as an excuse to steady myself as the sound of his deep voice seemed to have rattled me strangely.

“I do hope you aren’t-” I started as I turned, then promptly squealed loudly in surprise, dumping the clothes, bandages, and salve unceremoniously to the floor as both hands shot up to cover my eyes.

“Eh?” I heard the shuffle of his feet across the bare stone floor as he must have continued his own turn to face me. “Is something the matter?”

“WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES??” I nearly shrieked.

Though I kept my palms firmly clasped over my eyes, the previous momentary glimpse of the half-orc’s assured nudity was currently seared deep into my mind’s eye. The fine toned abdomen. The taut green buttocks, with a dimple above the top of each cheek in the small of his back. He must have washed his hair, for the long mohawk of growth had spilled over his skin like polished ebony in soft looking tendrils. Leading my eyes over his broad green shoulders. And when he had started to turn… the soft ‘v’ shape at the top of his hips leading down to…

The sight (and now, memory of the sight) left my mouth decidedly dry and my lips refusing to work properly. I felt an unfamiliar twitch in my fingers as the urge to pull them apart and sneak another peek rushed through me. There was no way! No way any man should be that… I swallowed hard, shaking my head with my hands pressed so tightly to my face it almost hurt.

“You said they were filthy, and inappropriate.” He reminded me matter-of-factly, and I could almost hear the shrug of those big shoulders. Big, broad, muscular shoulders-

“That doesn’t mean you should walk around NAKED!” I snapped, finally starting to come to my senses. I shifted my hands so that one covered both eyes, and crouched down in an attempt to blindly find what I had discarded in my panic.

“What was I to wear?” He replied. “Your drying cloths are tiny. I needed three just to-”

“I don’t care!” I managed to find the clothes by groping about with my free hand, and stood. Tossing them towards the sound of his voice and hearing a disgruntled huff as they hit him. “Just put those on, quickly, before my breakfast makes a reappearance.”

Erramun gave an angry grumble, but I heard the shake and shuffle of cloth as he did. “I didn’t know human stomachs were so sensitive.” His voice became muffled briefly as I assumed he pulled the shift over his head. “I always thought my mother was being dramatic when she scolded me for forgetting to dress.”

“If your mother imparted any other wisdom to you regarding humans, I suggest now is the time you take it to heart.” I replied sourly. Careful to keep my palms firmly fastened over my eyes. Though the heat of my cheeks nearly burned me.

I was so focused on not looking, I didn’t hear the soft scrape of his bare feet again as he moved forward. I jumped about a foot in the air as his hands suddenly came around my wrists. Gently pulling them free from my face. Leaving me suddenly face to face with a soft silk and cotton shirt, its untied collar just hinting at the toned chest I had been privy to moments before. I tried to ignore that memory, and fought through a sudden haze at the realization that his fingers were almost as gentle and soft as they were strong. And how close he currently stood to me. My heart skipped and I felt my breath catch in my throat as my head craned back to look up at him. He gave me a lopsided grin that had my knees feeling a little weak, and I felt him gently turn my hands in his. Until the backs of my hands rested in his palms and he could run his thumbs over the pads of my fingers.

“I am sorry, Gana,” He told me gently, “I did not mean to startle you so.”

 For a second, I couldn’t find the air in my lungs to speak. I struggled for a moment, and saw those bright emerald green eyes of his flick about my face. Thoughtfully, perhaps… almost appreciatively. And the way he was studying my features suggested he had been meaning to do just that for some time now. Up close, with seemingly time to spare to linger on each inch. I felt the flames beneath each cheek rekindle, but was strangely frozen for another few staggered beats of my heart. Finally, I yanked my hands from his, quickly shaking my head again to dispel the moment. Stubbornly denying it had ever existed.

“Is the apology her wisdom or yours?” I quipped, pleased to find my sarcasm still had a sharp bite to it despite the swirling quality of my thoughts.

My heart nearly faltered again at his answering smile. “A little bit of both, I suppose.”

I scoffed, trying to clear my head as I waved my hand at him dismissively. “Then perhaps there is some hope for you after all…” I took a step back, eager to put some space between us and hopefully regain a little more of my senses. “What are you even doing back here?” I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t suppose your mother ever told you it is incredibly rude to snoop around a lady’s chambers?”

“Hmm. She may have raised that point once or twice.” He grinned again, turning to follow my progression as I stalked around him angrily. I crouched down briefly to gather up the remainders of my bundle from the floor. “But you took longer than expected… And I was curious.” His head cocked to the side as he slowly followed me to the center of the room by the bed. “Are these the Princess’ rooms?”

I nearly dropped the jar and bandages again, spinning on him with the vial of healing salve in hand. “What makes you say that??”

He nodded to the corner. “The jewels and such.” I followed his gaze to my vanity table, where I had left some never used jewelry as thoughtlessly as one might discard soiled clothes on a chair. “I do not think even human servants tend to have such things.”

“I never said I was a servant.” I reminded him sourly, then jerked my chin. “Sit.”

“You haven’t said much of anything.” He shot back, but did as he was told and settled onto the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Eventually you may just conclude that that is entirely by design.” I said, opening the jar as he rolled his shirt up on one side. I pretended not to notice the tautness of his flesh or the shape of his abdomen as I slowly spread some of the salve on his wound. It seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding, which was good. “You may even come to remember that I am looking to get you out of here as quickly as I can. And the sooner that is the better.”

“Do I really disgust you so?” He asked, sounding bitter.

My eyes darted up to his face in surprise. And I got stuck in the quality of those emerald greens for a moment longer than I would ever admit. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, forcing my eyes away from his finally and reaching for the pile of bandages I had brought.

“... You don’t disgust me.” I admitted quietly.

He snorted, wincing slightly as I began to carefully apply first a clean square bandage, then the longer ones wrapped about him to hold it in place. It brought me uncomfortably close to him. I couldn’t help but take in a breath next to his skin, and found the smell of him made my nostrils quiver. I was just surprised to find he didn’t stink anymore, I assured myself silently. That was all. I had come to expect him to smell like dirt and blood, not this strangely pleasant smell he currently had. It meant nothing that I noticed it.

“You don’t seem to like me all that much.” He replied. “I am not sure what else it would be.”

I straightened, having secured the end of the bandage in place, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, obviously I must hate you then. That must be why, and it has nothing at all to do with the reason why you are even here in the first place.” I scoffed.

“Eh?”

My eyes rolled, and I was grateful for it as I didn’t have to watch him roll his shirt back down over his stomach again. The way his shoulders shifted and moved beneath the fabric wasn’t at all fair.

“You came here insistent that you would be marrying the Princess. Am I supposed to welcome you with open arms?” I placed my hands back on my hips and scowled at him. “Perhaps you assume that since you plan to marry her, that means you should be treated as a Prince?”

That warranted me a loud guffaw, and my eyes widened slightly in surprise. His crooked grin had my heart skipping, and I scoffed again in an attempt to dislodge it from my throat. The big orc stood, swaying for half a moment and forcing me back a step as he reached out to steady himself on the post beam of the bed. I eyed him warily, not too fond of the idea of being crushed by his bulk should he lose his balance and completely topple over. He managed to keep his feet however, and half staggered over to a full length mirror.

The clothes fit him surprisingly well, though it seemed that General Damjan was a bit narrower and lankier than he was. The sleeves of his cream colored shirt bunched up at his wrists, but you couldn’t tell since the collar of the shirt was filled with soft ruffles and the style was of a looser fit. It draped lazily over his shoulders, clinging to his upper arms and chest as he moved, with a straight cut that had him looking even taller than before. His trousers, a dark brown, disappeared beneath the long hanging tails of the shirt, but hugged his thighs snuggly. The outside seam of each leg had a dash of lighter thread, accenting the length of his limbs, as well as their shape. I had to take a moment to adjust my gaze from those firm, muscular thighs of his before his emerald eyes noticed me ogling him from behind.

“I look… foolish…” He grumbled.

I crossed my arms. “Good, you finally reflect your natural state then.” He snorted, turning this way and that and playing with the fabrics. I rolled my eyes again. “The shirt is supposed to be tucked into the pants. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

He glanced at me in the mirror, then back at his shirt. “... How?? These pants are too tight. There is no space!”

That had me laughing, despite myself. Certainly the goblins had an interesting sense of fashion, preferring aesthetics over functionality and comfort. Though I supposed the same could be said for some of the human court styles. Neither had put much thought into moving around. And based upon his previous attire, pants were not something the young orc was used to. My laugh petered out when I saw his lopsided grin waiting for me in the mirror. His whole face seemed a little brighter for it. I shook my head, unable to hide a lingering smile, and moved over to the bed.

“Alright, enough of that. I have someplace to be. And you should get some rest.” I told him as I adjusted the thick blankets and pillows. Peeling back a corner for him.

“You’re leaving again?”

My eyes darted up to him, surprised to hear the tang of remorse in his words. I slapped the blankets a few times for good measure. Letting out an impatient sigh.

“Yes, it may come as a shock to you, but I actually do have regular responsibilities outside of cleaning up errant wandering idiots.” I teased, straightening and taking a step back to allow him access to the bed. “Plus I have to see to your mare still.”

“... So I can stay?”

I groaned, pushing my wild hair back out of my face. Trying to ignore the odd pitter patter of my heart at the question. I gave him a once over, as if chewing on the thought. Certainly it was not because I was making excuses to prolong his company. That of course I found the half-orc taxing. There shouldn’t be any question that I wanted him out of my life as soon as possible.

“I can’t very well send you off until I know you aren’t going to pass out in a ditch somewhere.” I told him. Making an effort to sound as though I was at least mildly chaffed with the idea. “So yes, you oaf. You can stay.” I bit my lip, shuffling. “... For now.”

Erramun slowly walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His eyes looked over the room again. I shuffled my skirts and turned to gather up a few things to manage the clutter a bit better. Suddenly very aware of the fact that I had a strange man in my personal chambers. At best it was highly improper. At worst, it was downright dangerous. Afterall, I had only known Erramun a few days, and yet let myself be locked up in my bedroom alone with him. If Niko found out, he might just have a stroke on the spot. Though he might remain upright long enough to run my visitor through with his sword first.

“Won’t the Princess be cross that you are using her chambers to wash an orc?” He mused, tilting his head to one side.

“Half-orc, you mean?” I teased, glad my back was to him so he didn’t see my mouth twitch in amusement. “And I don’t think she’ll mind much.”

“She lets you use these rooms for yourself,” He reasoned, and I saw his nose twitch out the corner of my eye, “The bed smells like you.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. Tossing an armful of my things into a chest and closing it. I glanced at him briefly as I grabbed a small empty basket and put the remainder of the dressings and the jar of salve in it.

“Stop smelling me. It’s rude.”

He grinned. “I will try to breathe through my mouth then. Or would that be rude too?”

“I’m not sure you’re capable of being anything else.” I returned airly, looking around and considering my handiwork for a moment. “Except perhaps a fool.”

Erramun chuckled, a sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest. I glance at him out the corner of my eye. “I hope the Princess will not think so.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You are close with her then?”

I groaned. Well, it had been nearly a few minutes since the last mention of the Princess that time. “Honestly, do you ever think of anything else?” I grumbled. “Must be dull, revolving your life around marrying a girl you’ve never met.”

“You say it like I have a choice.” He grumbled right back.

I turned to him once more, the morose tone of his voice giving me pause. It seemed in stark contrast to the teasing lightness from before. The half-orc had his head bowed, his over defined brow scrunched. The long tendrils of his damp hair trailed around his face. I considered this for only a brief moment, returning my hands to my hips.

“Don’t you?” He didn’t look up at me at my words. I felt a tick of irritation at that. “You are an orc, half or otherwise. You are not beholden to the whims of a court, or the expectations of your people. You do not have the same responsibility to put the welfare of others above your own freedom and happiness.” I glanced off to the side, my eyes drifting longingly to the window. “You can wander under the open skies, should you so choose. You can see far off lands, go on adventures, take risks-”

“If I want to be selfish, and ignore the suffering of my people.” He interrupted, his voice heated. “Perhaps everyone here is magically accepting, but at the border, being over six foot and having green skin is enough to get you harassed. If not worse.”

“And marrying a Princess will solve that?” I shot back, equally hot.

“It will ease tensions.” He argued. “It will prove that we are not savages. That we can make alliances-”

I threw up my hands exasperatedly. “Even if I had a year, I still wouldn’t have enough time to point out all the flaws in your reasoning. And right now, I have to go collect my nieces and nephews.” I moved over to swipe a clean cloak from one of the hooks by the armoire. “You stew in your own idiocy, or, preferably, sleep. So that perhaps I can have you out of my hair before it starts to turn grey.” I spun on him, leveling one stern finger at his face. “And don’t even think about leaving this room.”

Erramun raised one brow at me, his thick lips pursing together around his tusks. Then his head tilted to the side, and that lopsided grin returned. It made my determination falter briefly, almost so much that I nearly took a step back in light of it.

“You are quite fierce, Gana.” He mused. “If the Princess is anything like you, I will be lucky.”

That had a sound heat rising to my cheeks, but I shook my head. Scoffing loudly. “You are a fool and a half.” I grumbled, turning my back on him so he couldn’t see the strange crash of emotions that fought their way across my face. “Single minded and absolutely incorrigible.”

He snorted, sounding amused. “Something else then. If I sleep in your bed, where will you sleep?” 

His words had me freezing in the doorway to the foyer. I tried to ignore the rapid speed of my pulse, swallowing heavily and shaking my head. Based upon the tone of his voice, I knew that stupid lopsided smile was still on his face. I replaced the heat of embarrassment at his implication with that of anger.

“Preferably just about anywhere else.” I snapped, then stormed out to the hall. Being sure to lock the door behind me.

UPDATE: Part Five HERE