#the wisteria maiden

[the-wisteria-maiden]

rp starter

maki was in the forest after being abandond by her parants. she was cold with only a red kimono and white darari obi keepind her from falling dead. she cried as she stumbled through the forest. not knowing or caring if anyone was nearby

(rp starter for @shadowtoons-arinanon)

[twisted-wish-granter]

Can I get a maki and Horus selfie?

[silvaris]

Wisteria Magic | Wisteria Dream by Jovana Rikalo

[spookyowlman]

@the-wisteria-maiden (continued from x)

"Oh!" That... surprised him.

Good thing that he loves hugs, though!

"... Love? Oh, ohhohohohohoo!" His bowtie spun around as he hugged him back. "Oh you weren't kidding when you told me you like cuddles!"

"Well, why don't we get to know each other first? Would you like to have dinner with me? I can have my little barnaboos set up a table in my garden!"

[dnangelic]

wisteria voice: fine no food for you. later loser *PEELS OFF ON MOTORCYCLE*

SULKS ALONE ON HER COUCH .

[grailwishes]

new character tags ( blorbos first ) ^-^

📖  *  guinevere pendragon.   ‣  queen of camelot.

📖  *  cassandra of troy.   ‣  princess prophetess.

📖  *  helen of sparta.   ‣  the most beautiful woman.

📖  *  maid marian / william scarlet.   ‣  lady of the merry men.

📖  *  saito momoka.   ‣  wisteria & peaches.

📖  *  yuuki cupid saito.   ‣  last hope of humanity.

📖  *  percival.   ‣  the dove knight.

📖  *  gawain.   ‣  knight of the sun.

📖  *  agravain.   ‣  knight of iron.

📖  *  sieg.   ‣  balmung's heir.

📖  *  siegfried.   ‣  dragon slayer.

📖  *  emiya shirou.   ‣  hero of justice.

📖  *  cú chulainn / sétanta.   ‣  hero of ulster.

📖  *  fiore forvedge.   ‣  yggdmillennia's true talent.

📖  *  jeanne d'arc.   ‣  holy maiden.

📖  *  rama.   ‣  brahmastra.

📖  *  asterios.   ‣  chaos labyrinth.

📖  *  nursery rhyme.   ‣  born of fairytales.

📖  *  bazett fraga mcremitz.   ‣  god's holder.

📖  *  waver velvet / lord el-melloi II.   ‣  cringefail professor.

📖  *  grey.   ‣  grave for you.

📖  *  charlemagne.   ‣  joyeuse ordre.

📖  *  name.   ‣  tag.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Twenty-One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: This chapter got out of control and ended up split (did I add another 1k per beta notes? yes, yes I did). I also wrote half of this chapter in the blackout haze I was in during this past season soooo take that as you will.

Many many thanks to @darkwolf76 for her un-spoiled eyes on this chapter and the encouragement I needed! Go check her work out for Strong Family Feels!

Much love to @selfproclaimedunicorn who likes to see what pretty jars we can shove these characters into to shake them around. ALSO check out her fantastic fic as well!

@vampire-exgirlfriend is my favorite person in the whole world, the Rhaenyra fan to my Alicent fan, the fox to my rabbit. I adore you and this story would not be here without you.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Oh, Father, Tell Me

Aegon spirals on his morning ride and in the face of Daemon's arrival. A tense conversation with Larys Strong. Won't anyone just leave him the fuck alone?

The wind howled between the cracks around the windows and Abby snuggled deeper into the covers, Wylla’s hands clasped around her own. The bed was three times the size of the one she had in the Red Keep, and she tried not to think that the last person in this bed had been her mother.

“It’s alright,” Wylla whispered. “You shed all the tears you need.”

The words had been robbed from her in this haze of grief and loss, of confusion, and so many other things that raked at the soft meat of her insides. She could only nod into her pillow, and let Wylla push her hair from her face, half unfamiliar words in the song she sang quietly to her. It was only as Abby finally began to drift off, did she hear the sound of the door open, but she did not open her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Wylla hissed.

“You’re here to make sure nothing untoward happens,” Aegon’s voice drifted over her, followed by the soft thunk of boots on the rug. “The bed’s big enough; I can wake the other ladies to join us.”

“She just fell asleep-”

“Is she alright?” Aegon’s voice was softer and closer all the same, and Abby felt the bed dip as Aegon climbed on top of the covers behind her. The warmth of him was like a fire, soothing and comforting as he pressed up against her back, effectively keeping her contained between him and Wylla. She turned her head slightly and Aegon’s lips tenderly grazed her temple.

“She will be.” Wylla’s hands squeezed hers and Abby sighed, finally able to drift fully asleep.

Sleep had eluded Aegon, and he had woken far too early for his tastes, the murky gray light that signaled the coming dawn creeping in through the windows. The maid who had come to stoke the fire had stared at him, wide eyed, before dropping into a curtsy and hurrying from the room. He rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Abrogail’s temple before dragging his stiff body from the bed and slipping quietly out onto the tiered balcony. He reached up, fingers caressing the wisteria blooms he’d sent back with Ser Simon all those months ago. Abby adored them, and he wanted to bring a piece of their garden here.

His father had ordered the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin Strong.

Jace had said little after the revelation, speaking of what he’d overheard, his voice harsh and cracking between breaths and in Aegon’s hands lay the admittance that his sister had truly sired bastards by the tongue of her own son. Jace had put the lives of his family in his hands then, amid his gasping and tear filled eyes. It was the moment that Alicent Hightower had been waiting for all these many years…and Aegon only kept a hand pressed between his nephew’s shoulder blades, sat beside his childhood companion, and simply sat there with him in the dark.

By rights, Aegon should hate the boy beside him. His feelings for his sister were a tangled knot of Helaena’s embroidery thread that joined the ribbon tied through his ribs. A piece of him that he would never be free of, for Aegon didn’t know how to cut himself free of it. It was not his sister in the crypt that Jace had heard, however. It had been the king, sire and grandsire, the head of their family. The man who looked past Aegon as if he was a specter that was too painful, and then the moment where those eyes focused and for those fleeting heartbeats, Aegon thought the king saw the son that he had.

His own hand held the blade - or in this case, lit the match - and it occurred to Aegon then how obvious it felt. Targaryens believed in a cleansing fire. Their house words spoke of this, Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood had come for House Strong, not a powerful wave crashing against the towers like some suspected Lord Corlys to have been responsible for it. His weak father had taken the accusations personally, and defended his daughter with the same sort of viciousness that Mother had defended Aemond. The same sort of viciousness that he never bestowed upon them.

Too weak. King Viserys was too weak but it was not weakness, Aegon thought, to spare a child. Had Rhaenyra admitted what had happened, he doubted anyone would have faced death. Ser Harwin would have gone to The Wall, Rhaenyra’s sons disinherited. Maybe Aegon would have become her heir then. Not that he wanted it, but Aemond would have even at that age, and that might have been something.

No. Instead, the king spilled blood through the sort of schemes he disdained of.

Harrenhal was too unfamiliar for Aegon to make his way through quietly. It was early enough that he wasn’t bothered, but it meant that the murmured conversations of the servants were his to overhear.

“They say it’s a Second Great Council,” a voice had said to their companion; two servants scraping out the great hearth that had burned low through the night. “I heard that the king will name his son heir at the wedding.”

“He didn’t name him in King’s Landing,” the other voice had pointed out.

The first voice laughed. “But more are coming to the wedding. You can see the tents for miles!”

The court had whispered those rumors the whole of Aegon’s life, every time his name day came around that it would be the year that he would supplant his sister as heir. Rumor that would chase along the whispers of court each time Rhaenyra gave birth to another brunette boy.

He wants me to inherit nothing! He wanted to scream at them. They all saw it. They all saw over and over again how little King Viserys cared for his long sought after first born son. The boy he stopped caring about as soon as Precious Rhaenyra’s little Jacaerys came.

Jacaerys Velaryon, who looked like Ser Harwin and always had, who shared the same dimpled smile as Abrogail. Jacaerys, who the king doted on and spoiled and paid more attention to than Aegon.

Jace, who had come running to him when he was small, crying because something had frightened him. Jace, who tagged along after him when Aemond rolled his eyes and stuck his head in a book.

The castle was already bustling as Aegon made the long walk to the stables, Kostōba already saddled by his request. He reached up to rub his palm along his face while he fed the horse a carrot for his good behavior and left out the main gates and down the trail west, away from Harrenton and towards the roost where Sunfyre and the other dragons had nested.

His father had ordered the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin Strong in order to cover up for his sister’s indiscretions.

Sunfyre rumbled beneath him as he climbed on, chittering and confused, watching him with great, golden eyes and trilling softly; a whistle of a song. Dreamfyre was curled up a ways away, Vermax chittering beside her while Moondancer perched up along the jagged rock of the ruined tower that made up the dragon roost. They all watched as Aegon and Sunfyre took off and Aegon let his stomach drop, the wind from the ascent pull tears from his eyes and tried to escape into the nothingness of the sky.

Did he even want to be king?

He had meant it when he said that he would not contest Rhaenyra’s claim. Kingship looked exhausting, with everyone demanding and expecting and pushing and pleading. He already dealt with the favor seekers and the clout chaser amidst court, preying upon him to aid their own desperate grabs at ascent. Cassandra Baratheon had been a more dangerous indulgence; the comely heir of a Lord Paramount with eyes set on something more. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that allowing her to think she could get her claws in him had been a risky move, and one that he was pleased had worked out for the better. She had not been the only one, nor, he knew, would she be the last.

Sunfyre let out a loud shriek and swooped down, the flotilla of previously peaceful ducks floating languidly upon the still waters of the lake now a frenzy of frightened calls before the dragon let out a pleased groan and scooped a mouth full of the water fowl into his mouth, belly just skimming the water, tail splashing in the sudden descent and quick ascent to avoid crashing into the depths. Water splashed up, the droplets catching into colored streaks of light in the early morning rays. He shouted in surprise and delight, Sunfyre shaking water from his head as he indulged himself, successfully pulling Aegon from the spiral of uncertainty that he had found himself in.

He did not want to be king, nor did he want to hide himself away amidst the ash and bone of the past the way his father did. He wanted to wake each morning buried balls deep in his wife, senses filled with her to erase away the haunted dreams of loneliness and pain. He wanted to greet the day upon dragonback and watch the sunrise; a streak of blue as vivid as Abrogail’s eyes, streaked with pink and orange and purple, the rays turning Sunfyre more golden and brilliant than ever. Where the world was quiet and peaceful, where nothing chased and demanded and clawed. Aegon wanted a life away from the harsh demands of King’s Landing. How peaceful it was here at Harrenhal. Yes, he missed the sound of bells from the Great Sept, the bustle and crush of Flea Bottom, but it was not a longing that bred contempt. Aegon knew that in his bones. It was an ache of appreciation, of thankfulness, because the quiet here, unexpectedly found as he and his dragon danced above the God’s Eye, was a gift he had not realized he had needed, let alone wanted.

The Isle of Faces was shrouded in the morning mist and the high, bone white boughs of the weirwoods reached up through the fog, the sprays of vivid red leaves like drops of blood against the snow. Sunfyre kept a distance away and Aegon did not urge him closer. He knew little of the island except that it was the last home of the Southron Weirwoods, a sacred place of worship. He squinted towards the island, the little outcropping that jutted out into the water, and startled as something moved.

The antlers caught his attention; the twist of the them at first fooling him for branches of a tree before the figure moved. It was no beast, at least, not one that Aegon had ever seen before. It was a shadow in the mist, a figure of some great height but he could not tell if it was what adorned its head or if the figure was truly tall. It moved out of the trees, the damp swirling around it as it stepped into the streak of morning light that lit up the little outcropping, shrouded in shadow.

Aegon’s ears pricked as a strange sound met him. A loud but low humming seemed to emanate the closer they came to the island. He had never heard such a thing before and although it was a distant sound, it reverberated in his bones, vibrating along the back of his neck.

His father had Lyonel Strong and his son were killed to protect Rhaenyra from further accusations.

The accusations had not been erased, and Aegon had seen the way Ser Simon had looked at the boy, eyes wide, the man who was so quick with words stunned speechless.

Everyone knows. Just look at them.

He craved the sweet rush of Arbor Red down his throat, or the taste of Abby’s cunt on his tongue. He craved escape and with an anguished shout, he urged Sunfyre faster, letting his roar claw at his throat just as Sunfyre joined him, the sensation of his dragon a comfort in his chest. The pair of them yelled together, Aegon breathless and lightheaded, his throat protesting at the scream he let out.

Sunfyre let out another trilling call and took off higher, the end of his tail slapping against the water and Aegon craned back to watch the figure as it grew smaller and smaller in the distance. The feeling in his stomach was one of uncertainty; an unsettled sensation that roiled in his belly like a sloshing ale tankard. He leaned over the horn of his saddle, running a gloved hand along Sunfyre’s scales. Another strong beat of his dragon’s wings, and Sunfyre sped faster into the dawn sky, the cold of the clouds hitting against Aegon’s face, cooling the perpetual heat of his skin and stinging his eyes. Yet he inhaled the smell of petrichor and let it course through his body and wash away the odd sensations and the thoughts that plagued him.

Still, it stuck.

His father had his wife’s father and brother killed to protect his sister. His wife’s other brother had a hand in it.

His sister, Aegon would never forget, who stood in the face of their brother’s maiming, the grievous injury that could have killed him; an ugly and long, painful death from infection and agony, to change the focus to her, and the perceived injustices against her, to the expense of the rest of them. Instead of punishing her children in any sort of capacity, she turned it into something completely different. Cruel and unnecessary; no one had been speaking of it. It had to do with Vhagar, not an attack on Rhaenyra herself. But she had run with Jace’s quiet words of a foolish child, bringing in what wouldn’t have been on the table had she not been fucking Harwin Strong and trying to pass his children off as Laenor Velaryon’s.

The king had eagerly gone along with it, further than even Aegon expected. King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, was mild, milquetoast, and so averse to conflict that he and Aemond would start muttering, “Oh no, my indigestion! Oh no, my ulcers!’” every time some sort of disagreement or conflict began to rise at whatever familial occasion came about. Their sire, who yelled and railed when he wished to be contrary to exercise his desire…had ordered the deaths of his Hand and the man’s heir—the man who his heir was fucking.

Three children too late, of course, but the king had been backed into a corner and had snapped and spread his wings to show he could be just as dangerous as Prince Daemon. Aegon knew that much about his father. Even if none knew how it had happened, did Rhaenyra know what their father had done for her? Aegon could not know her mind, but he knew if it had been himself, he would have raged at it.

He would have gone into the king’s room and torn his heart from his chest. This fool of a king who waited too long, acted too late to do anything and left them all here: fractured and broken with no hope of anything but blood across the throne.

Was Rhaenyra not also a dragon? Or had she rolled over and showed her belly in the face of their father’s twisted adoration?

Alicent Hightower’s children. Never brother nor sister..

Aegon had no choice. There was no world he existed in where Rhaenyra was not his sister. She had enough luxury to put distance between them, and how aggressively she did. Her shadow loomed behind him, and he knew that his own dogged her. She was not coming to this wedding for him. She was not coming to share in his incandescent joy to finally be bound to the one he loved. She was coming to assert her place, to remind them all that she was their father’s favorites, their father’s chosen.

What would she do in the face of House Strong who saw Jace’s face, and would soon see his brothers? What would the king feel compelled to do? Would he set the rest of the house ablaze to erase whatever physical similarities would undermine Rhaenyra’s claim? As if three sons of his own weren’t enough to undermine her? Take their faces instead of their tongues.

King Viserys despised nothing more than being made to look like a fool.

It was never just Mother who railed at what was plain to see. It was never just her.

‘Do you think Rhaenyra’s sons will be your playthings forever? When she ascends the throne, your life may be forfeit. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession. You are the challenge, Aegon! Just by living and breathing!’

Sunfyre rumbled beneath him, the chirping purr he made one full of confusion and concern, his great head turning to look back at him. Aegon remained slumped over the saddle horn as the dragon flew aimlessly above the God’s Eye and the rolling hills of the Riverlands. It would be so easy to unhook his belt and let himself roll off and plummet into the depths below. To escape the machinations and lies and secrets of his family and replace it with the depths of blue would be a simple escape. Whatever violence his mother and grandfather saw in the future, could he simply… make it go away? If he went away?

He could not. He would not. Not now. Not when he was so close. He could not leave Abby here alone in this world; he would not abandon her the way she had been left behind by everyone else. He’d promised and he meant it.

Aegon looked up from his staring at the pink frills along Sunfyre’s neck to blink up, eyes stinging, as a warbling, undulating call echoed from the east. It echoed over the rolling green fields and the forest that hugged along the banks by the castle. It was a distant sound that sent a shiver down his spine, undulating and unnerving. His stomach swooped and dropped uncomfortably, and the half bottle of wine he’d drunk last night threatened to slosh up. Sunfyre rumbled beneath him, a growl in his throat as he whipped towards the east with a screech.

There was only a single dragon in the sky; his sister must have gone further to meet the carriage that held the children and the Velaryons. The blood red of Caraxes’ scales glinted like garnets in the morning light. The distant sound of laughter joined the dragon’s call as the red pitched and turned north.

Sunfyre’s warning call screamed louder across the sky. He didn’t need to be told; Sunfyre simply knew. They bolted after them a heartbeat later, racing towards the hulking, melted spires of Harrenhal, thoughts of oblivion, of glutting on lake fish forgotten. His friend might not be quite as old as Caraxes, but he was just as big, and fast, if not faster. A screech let out, a flash of hot light expelled from Sunfyre as they gave pursuit, but the wyrm merely dropped down and another laugh echoed back. Something hot burned in Aegon’s chest and Sunfyre shuddered beneath him.

The command rested on Aegon’s tongue, tempting as a fresh bottle of wine, as his winsome lover spread upon his bed. It was from a deep, feral place in his chest, where Sunfyre’s presence glowed warm and molten through his veins. He bit his tongue and Sunfyre screeched for him. The need to take the other man and his dragon in his jaws, rip and rend and shake the bits of them as blood sacrifice to the gods, was near consuming. A rage inside of Aegon that had built over the years threatened to bubble up. The hot tang of blood rushed into his mouth both from dragon dreams and the fact that he’d bitten himself to keep from shouting. He was desperate to do something with this rage that had nowhere to go, and the idea of rending Daemon Targaryen limb from limb, offering him as sacrifice at the feet of his mother to free her from the strangling fear that turned her angry and desperate.Aegon would take the threats of their family, prove to Aemond that he too was capable of standing up, bold and strong. To show Otto Hightower that he was not the feckless fool he sought to puppet. To prove to Abrogail that she would never have anything to fear, ever again, and that their family would be safe.

To show Rhaenyra that she could keep her claim that she so desperately wanted, but that she would not come for them, lest she meet the same fate.

To show his sire-king, the decrepit old man he was, that Aegon would defend them with fire and blood too when he would not. To force King Viserys to see him and know that this was the creature he’d turned him into; that he’d turned this family into. Where his mother had turned cruel and desperate to protect them, where Aemond was angry all the time, where Aegon lived each day with a sword above his head, wondering if that morning would be the day the king did not wake, and the dragons would scream.

Another laugh echoed as the pair ahead swooped down to skim the water before bursting back up, amused and uncaring of the screaming dragon that gave chase. Daemon was enjoying it. He howled as that rage took him, and Sunfyre screamed along with him. They were nearing the great curtain walls of the fortress now, the sun to their right casting their shadows along the glimmering blue of the God’s Eye, the antlered shadow on the outcropping long forgotten. The wyrm banked further northwest to the dragon roost and Aegon hissed.

“Lilagon, Sunfyre,” he commanded, and Sunfyre danced. The dragon glided effortlessly into the turn, coming up up along the inside as they circled Harrenhal and used the momentum to burst past and rocketed straight for the broken tower. Sunfyre let out a warning cry, banking around and rising up, wings spread. Aegon had no thoughts, no words, except to protect. This was his, and this laughing man and his strange dragon wyrm had chosen already.

Like Viserys, Daemon had chosen his side, more dangerous than the rest of them.

The dragons below in the pit started shrieking in response to Sunfyre’s call, but Moondancer shot up, her calls far less distressed, the verdant green of her scales glimmering as she twirled in the air. At the little dragon’s approach, the wyrm circled towards her, the elongated neck ensuring that Caraxes’ eyes did not leave Aegon and Sunfyre, warning him away.

“Sȳrī tymptan!” came the distant shout. Aegon felt Sunfyre shift. “Aōha kepa avy dīnagon ozūndegon amastas! Rhaenyra aderī kesīr ulza.”

Dreamfyre was ululating from the ground in response to Sunfyre’s warning and Aegon glared towards his uncle.

“We’re fine,” he murmured to the dragon, scratching at the scales along his neck. Sunfyre huffed his displeasure but did not cry out again. Dreamfyre was still making sounds, but the distressed call had stopped and the two of them lowered to the ground, Moondancer still above and circling. The Dragonkeepers were rushing about, and Ser Arryk was holding onto his horse’s bridle, the stallion stomping its feet with fear at the shouts of the dragons. Aegon could see a wheelhouse in the distance, another Kingsguard stallion leading it ahead.

He undid the hooks on his saddle and slid down Sunfyre’s wing before the dragon could settle properly, his golden eyes fixated on the other dragon settling himself away from Dreamfyre. His breath was quick and his skin felt overly hot, prickly, like he was about to let out his own flame. Daemon Targaryen was far more fluid; lazy, even, as he swung himself down, the fall of the man’s hair and his long limbs a familiar sight. There was a strange moment when the man turned and cocked his head, that Aegon thought he was looking at his brother, and wondered in a terrifying moment, if Daemon Targaryen was Aemond’s future.

The last time he’d seen his uncle had been at Laena Velaryon’s funeral. A figure seen occasionally during his childhood, Daemon Targaryen was more a staple of stories and sneers than what Aegon would consider an actual uncle. He’d holed himself up on Driftmark with the Velaryons and the twins before he married Rhaenyra, and the pair of them had refused to come to court since their marriage. The man had changed little over the years. Tall and silver haired, Daemon was a figure of health compared to King Viserys, still recovering from the long trip up from the capital.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Prince Daemon,” Aegon said, a final, gentle pat against Sunfyre’s neck, the dragon’s head turned to keep his golden eyes on the Blood Wyrm and its rider. Aegon lifted a hand, tugging his glove off with his teeth before pushing his tousled, wind tangled hair from his eyes. He would not be intimidated. He would not let the whispered threats of what Daemon Targaryen would do if the opportunity found him overtake him. This was his home, and Aegon was still the king’s son, and the prince was a guest. He’d made his loyalties clear years ago.

He remembered with such startling clarity running after his sister, shouting her name, begging her to wait for him, struggling to get his coat on and tripping in his haste. “Nyra wait!” She was striding down the hallway, the sun catching on her long silver hair, like Visenya reborn, waving to Daemon and Laena Velaryon. His sister had paused and looked back at him but it was Daemon’s sharp, cruel smirk that had stopped Aegon short as the man reached for Rhaenyra’s shoulder and drew her attention.

“He is of no importance.”

More who did not want him.

Aegon stumbled slightly as he felt a huff of warm, sulfuric breath hit his back, followed by the gentle bump of Sunfyre, the warmth of his purr vibrating inside the hollow between his ribs and through his limbs. There was a gentle chirp, like a bird song, and Aegon turned to press his hands against the dragon’s warm snout, pressing a kiss between his flared nostrils. “Lykirī,” he murmured, calming them both. Another pat against his warm scales and Aegon shoved his gloves in his pockets. Ser Arryk was watching him from his post near the stone cottage where the Dragonkeepers were staying. The elder man’s brows were slightly furrowed, his face impassive, but his gaze flitted to Daemon’s briefly before looking back to him.

“Your Grace,” Ser Arryk said. There was a question in the simple greeting that came from the years that Ser Arryk had been his sworn shield. It was nothing specific and sometimes it caused a prickle of uncertainty and self-doubt, different in the self-conscious feelings that Ser Criston stoked.

“I’m sure the prince would appreciate the quiet solitude of the carriage ride,” Aegon said on his approach, his gaze darting towards Daemon as he stalked towards them. The carriage would be there shortly, back in sight after the bend around some of the boulders that marked the border of the shale caves here along the lake. “He does spend much of his time surrounded by the babbling of children.”

“How thoughtful you are. You certainly don’t get that from your mother.”

Aegon ran his tongue over his teeth, jaw aching with a pain that was not his own, Sunfyre still rumbling beneath his skin. The bait was blatant, so low hanging that he could kick it should he so wished. How he wished to take it and pummel Daemon with it. His mother’s hands may have left scars upon him, but she was his mother. His defender even when he disappointed her. These last few months were strange and hopeful in a way he didn’t know how to handle. Her touch had been gentle across his brow or upon his shoulder, her smiles tentative but there, the furrow between her brow easing.

His mother who cuddled him when he was small and afraid when she was pregnant with Daeron, that he would lose her, who cared about the small folk in her sponsorships and initiatives she was so busy with. Nothing Aegon would do was ever good enough, but sometimes? Sometimes it was.

The response to Daemon was on his tongue, ripe and juicy as a grape. “And we know you get nothing from yours.” Cruel and barbed and hooked, his own teeth bared if Daemon Targaryen was so eager to see what he was made of.

“I did not realize you and the queen were so close for you to recognize what qualities I did or did not receive from her,” Aegon said instead, wan smile and cursory look in the elder’s direction. “If you were wondering, I do get my good looks from her, and a taste for honey cakes.” He shrugged, reaching over to stroke the velvet softness of his stallion’s nose. “The hair is, of course, from my father, the king. I notice Baela wears the same displeased expression you wear. As well as your nose.”

The smile he gave Daemon was a bit brighter this time as the carriage pulled up, Ser Marbrand on his steed. The door opened unexpectedly and Baela herself came out, silver braids swinging and the gold bands shining in the light. He had spent enough time around his cousin over the past few months to see the same uncertain tension in her shoulders that he frequently saw in Aemond as she took in her father.

“I heard Caraxes,” she said by way of greeting, the deep greens and blues of her riding leathers scored with seahorses and dragons. Daemon’s attention swung to his daughter and Aegon ignored the rest of the conversation as it turned into High Valyrian, rapid and ancient, their accents markedly different from how he spoke with his own siblings. A raw feeling struck hard inside his chest, and he watched them for another moment before his attention swung to further movement at the carriage.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Prince Daemon,” Larys Strong’s voice carried unexpectedly well given his low tone. “Forgive me for not getting out - it is rather difficult for me to move here.”

Daemon’s face was impassive at being addressed by the lord of Harrenhal and Aegon looked at the soft, torn up ground that the carriage had stopped in. Baela gave Aegon a nod before pulling her father’s attention, her Valyrian flowing easily. “I thought we could go riding. Just you and I.”

“Another carriage is on its way, your Grace,” Ser Marbrand said. “I shall stay here, Ser Arryk.”

Kostōba pawed at the ground and without being asked, the footman tied Aegon’s horse to the back of the carriage. Aegon bristled, opening his mouth to demand the servant cease until Larys’ voice came once more.

“Join me in the carriage, my prince. We are going to be family soon, and it’s so difficult to get time together.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed a touch, long lashes hooding his eyes as he turned his attention back to the footman who had handled his horse. He could hear his uncle and cousin still conversing in rapid Valyrian, their words muffled just enough, so easily flowing between them that Aegon couldn’t keep up. The horses knickered and whined, pawing at the ground with the proximity to the dragons.

“Of course, Lord Larys. We will indeed.” Aegon gave him a tight smile and gestured for him to enter the wheelhouse first. The ones from the capital prioritized privacy with their screened in windows. The ones belonging to House Strong were more easily opened, the windows with little, folded shutters and fluttering linen curtains; far more open and far less like a cage.

Larys tapped the handle of his cane against the roof of the wheelhouse, and with a gentle jerk they headed back. Aegon leaned back against the plush pillows of the bench, stretching his legs out before him. In the small space, it was a sight to see how tall Larys Strong was. He was a thin man, much like Aemond, but while Aemond walked as straight as a blade, Larys made himself small. A sick feeling curled in the pit of his stomach as the understanding washed over him; the feeling of seeing one in the mirror. Aegon did the same thing. Curled shoulders and slouching to avoid the gaze of those who would bite at him.

The only difference, Aegon surmised, was that Larys’ desire to be undetected did not come from something as childish as his own desire to be unnoticed.

The soft sound of scraping drew Aegon’s gaze down to peer at Larys’ metal boot.

“When you take your seat here, my prince, you should know what you’re up against,” Larys said softly, his dark eyes pinning Aegon like one of Helaena’s bugs to the board. “You handled the council meeting well, as the squabbles of the Blackwoods and Brackens are exhausting to us all. Of course, Grover Tully approves of you. He may have sworn oaths to your father’s chosen successor, but make no mistake that he will raise banners for you. His grandson, Elmo, on the other hand…”

Aegon recalled the elder man with a wash of inferiority. Elmo Tully was tall and broad, with dark, auburn hair and piercing eyes that shifted from blue to green, he recalled, because it had unsettled him. ‘Lucerys’ eyes,’ Aegon remembered thinking when he first sat across from the man at the small council table.

“Aunt Celeste isn’t your mother, is she?” Aegon’s brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile the woman who had helped raise him with how she could bear this giant of a man. Ser Harwin let out a sad sounding laugh and shook his head.

“No, my prince. My mother was Lysa Tully, granddaughter of Lord Grover. I squired in Riverrun before my father became Master of Laws for your father.” Ser Harwin shook his curls from his face, reaching to tie it back to keep it from his face. “She died when I was a little sprog, barely walking.” A distance took his eyes and Aegon averted his gaze to offer the man privacy.

“He supports Rhaenyra,” Aegon finished, not wishing to dance around implications.

“He will, if only because he views the Hand and your mother as overstepping the crown’s wishes and the contract between the throne and its people.”

Aegon frowned at this, arms folded across his chest. “Speak plain, Lord Larys,” he said with his own hard look. Aegon understood games, he understood doublespeak, but there was much left to the imagination and he would not be made a fool of. “The throne provides for its people. What imagined overstepping is he so worried about? He’s simply sore that he lost Harrenhal to me.”

“He’s concerned about the dragon this marriage placed in his lands.” Larys shrugged softly and leaned back in the seat, the carriage jostling over a particularly large bump. “Harrenhal of course is a boon, but not in the way you might think. A comely bride is merely an additional perk, not the prize as it was for you.”

Aegon hummed softly in a way that reminded him of his brother and curled his fingers into his arms to resist the need to pick at the skin. Aemond had said something similar over the course of his nameday. How now all would see how vulnerable he was, and the way to wound him most grievously. Aegon, on the other hand, had sneered at that. Abby was not a weakness to him. To lose her would be to lose himself, yes, but it would not destroy him like Aemond tried to imply.

Of course it wouldn’t.

“They’re here to discuss the marriage contract. Lord Elmo is here on behalf of his father since Lord Tully is abed back at Riverrun. Several of the other river lords are with him, wishing to hammer out the details the crown and I worked out in regards to the inheritance of Harrenhal and jointure, the dowry, and the fact that Lord Elmo sees your placement in the Riverlands as a threat that you will take the Paramount seat from him should he not support you.”

Aegon’s face twisted in confusion, nostrils flaring at the insult at being accused of something he had no desire for. He leaned forward, a hand reaching up to the handle along the roof of the carriage to balance himself.

“He accuses me of coveting his seat?” Aegon hissed. “Just as these lords think I’m plotting to steal my sister’s throne. Why are they so quick to think ill of me? To accuse me of villainy and brand me traitor when I’ve done nothing of the sort. I plot no schemes or collusions—”

“You were born,” Larys interrupted with a soft and earnest voice. He too leaned forward, mimicking Aegon’s position. “You are the first born son of a king who murdered his first wife in the hunt for a healthy, living son, Prince Aegon. You did not choose this mantle, you did not choose to be born the son of the king, and I did not choose to be born with my own struggles. But these are the lots we have drawn in life and we must make the best of it.”

This close, Aegon noticed how he looked a bit like Ser Simon, who himself looked like the ghost of Lord Lyonel. Larys’s features were sharper than the rest of his family, he and his sister both, likely from their Frey mother. But the dark eyes reminded him of the amber glass eyes that stared out of the mounted stag heads and bear heads that lined one of the small halls in the Red Keep.

“Your own struggles?” Aegon snarled. “Like murdering your father and brother so you could have the seat instead of skulking about the Red Keep for the rest of your days?”

Aegon leaned back and so did Larys, who dropped his hand to grip the handle of his cane. He looked out the window silently, his jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the amber bauble on the cane. Larys did not ask him how he knew.

Caraxes’ whistling shriek echoed high across the lake valley. There was an even more distant answer: the long absent cry of Syrax that he hadn’t heard in years.

As Larys Strong’s dark eyes found him, Aegon felt like the elder was peeling away his skin as methodically as he peeled fruit, or the flesh of the convicts in the torture cells of the Red Keep. Aegon watched the twitch of his features and the shadow that passed over his gaze.

“Prince Aegon,” he said slowly, words measured, pausing for a moment before he finally continued. “The death of my father and elder brother was a tragic accident. It was never supposed to happen that way.”

Aegon’s mouth went dry. So what Jace said was, in fact, true;that Aegon had blurted it out to the man accused was of no matter. The bottom of his stomach dropped out with an unpleasant swoop.

Larys’ can thumped softly against the floor of the carriage. “It is not something that was done out of greed, or selfishness. Nor was it years of resentment. I loved my father very much. While a lesser father would have cast a babe born as I was aside, to dash their heads against the stone and write the babe off as another loss in a long line of tragedy, he fed my appetite for learning. He taught me how to hone my mind the way my brother honed his blade. He offered to send me to the citadel if it was what I wished, just as he attended in his youth before his brother, Tristafer, died and he became heir. When I declined to go to Oldtown, he helped me find a place in the world where I could excel.”

“Then you killed him,” Aegon said, voice low, brow slightly furrowed. “A man you claimed to love, who had done so much for you, and you burned him alive.”

The other man looked down at his cane, impassive in the face of Aegon’s words. He took a breath, a slight shake of his head, then met Aegon’s eyes once more. “Princess Rhaenyra kept my brother at her side and my father, love him as I did, he did not stop it. He could have. He did not.” Larys paused and his eyes went downcast, sweeping across the floor, but Aegon did not think he was truly looking at anything. “The king saw a threat to the stability of the royal family and made his wishes clear. When the king wishes something, it will be done. Your father wanted to silence the whispers. I would not let some assassin come after my family. We all make sacrifices in life, Your Grace. Often, that is in response to…,” Larys met his gaze, “...the actions, or inaction, of our fathers and our siblings. Duty and sacrifice are tenets of your mother’s, so I know you understand. I sacrificed them to salvage what I could of our house, and to save my sweet sister who was meant to return here as my brother finally came to take his place as future lord.”

The silence was oppressive, the air thick from it, as Larys held his gaze for several more moments before releasing him to look out the window. Aegon had nothing to say and instead looked out his own window towards the lake and the trees along the shoreline. Larys had given him much to consider and it was a new experience to not have it all blamed upon Rhaenyra or even the fleeting implications in the complacency of the king. Larys had implicated his own father and brother; a mess made of the four of them.

Aegon recalled the pale, silent ghost that Abby had turned into after the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin, barely remembering the discussion of her returning to Harrenhal. His mother had been quiet too and locked for hours in the sept. Aegon had thought she had been grieving with Abby, had grieved the loss of the relationship she had had with Lord Lyonel. Did she too know about this?

It was so much. It was too much for him to think of all right now and he didn’t want to focus on it. The danger at hand now was the presence of Elmo Tully and the other lords who were raising an issue and trying to prevent his marriage. The anger at being misjudged and assumed that he was coming for things he could not give two shits about, that took the forefront of his mind. He didn’t want to be king and he didn’t want a Paramount seat. He just wanted his dragon, and Abrogail, and whatever family they made for themselves.

Well. That was a season. This chapter got so damn long that we've had to split it in two, which at the end of the day is a good thing. I'll get to flesh out the second half and start moving us into a couple housekeeping things before we launch into the long awaited family dinner, a spicy spicy chapter, and THEN THE WEDDING! As an FYI, I'm starting a new job on Monday! I will no longer be WFH, so my writing time is going to be a helluva lot different moving forward, but we're still sticking to the 'at least once a month' chapter updates. And with the next chapter now half down, I'm hoping to get back to a small buffer. Thank you all for being here, and I always always love to hear from you. If you're not sure what to say, a reblog lets more people read this story! My askbox is also open! Thank you for reading <3

[redsamuraiii]

"My character's name, Fuji(藤) means wisteria in Japanese. You might imagine Mt.Fuji(富士), but the character is different! Her name means the flower one. I really like her name. So Carlos(@thecarlosrosario) chose the kimonos and the cloth with wisteria patterns of pale blue and purple tone. And my hair accessories like ribbons are basically purple too." Moeka Hoshi

In Japan, Wisteria symbolizes youth, love, and perseverance, and represents the transience of life. Interestingly, there is a kabuki dance called "Fuji Musume" aka Wisteria Maiden where the heroine carries wisteria to symbolize the sentiments of love.

It perfectly reflect her character and her love for her family and house that she's willing to protect at all cost. The costume designer and production team really outdone themselves with their attention to detail to every single character on set!

[w3w]

Maidcore ID Pack

🧹 ꒱ Names

adelina, amie, anemone, anna, belle, birdie, brianna, caecelia, capucine, celeste, chocola, claudia, dollie, elaine, elodie, emerie, faithe, fleurette, hina, honey, jolene, juliet, lacie, lilac, lilibet, lumi, mabelle, mai, marie, mei, minty, nari, order, ori, poppy, primrose, sofia, sundae, tiffany, violette, virginia, wisteria

🎀 ꒱ Pronouns

ba / bake, be / berry, bo / bow, bre / brew, broo / broom, cin / cinnamon, cle / clean, co / coffee, cu / cuff, cu / cute, du / dust, hon / honey, hu / hum, la / lace, loy / loyal, mai / maid, pu / pure, second / secondhand, ser / serve, spra / spray, swe / sweep, swee / sweet, uni / uniform

🧹 ꒱ Titles

[x] who cleans, the greatest maid in the land, sweet maid, the maid of destiny, the ultimate maid, [x] loyal to [x] masters, [x] who follows [x] masters, [x] who smells like honey, the handmaid who dances gracefully, [x] with bows flowing from all directions, [x] who puts maximum effort into [x] appearance, the delicate maid, [x] who delivers with utmost grace, [x] of many talents, the frilled maiden

🎀 ꒱ Genders

bunnymaid, catmaid, idolmaidic, lolitamaidcoric, maid-ish, maidbutler, maidcafelovia, maidenhera, maidion, maidluvian, maidollcorian, maidpet (recoin vers.), maidthing

[empirearchives]

Top: Café Frascati in Paris, 1807, by Philibert-Louis Debucourt

Bottom: Café Frascati (A Scene From Napoleon's Time), 1893, by François Flameng

During the Premier Empire, the Frascati establishment, named after a famous Neapolitan ice-cream maker, was one of the most popular venues in Paris. First of all, it had a delightful garden, decorated with the busts of the greatest French and English poets, and lit up at night. A tunnel of wisteria and maiden vine, known as “l’ermitage” (the retreat), lent a charming atmosphere to the scene. The house was used as a café and salon de pâtisserie. On the ground floor it offered refreshments and some of the best ice-cream in Paris, with ballrooms. On the first floor were gaming rooms. Paris’s smartest set flocked here to spend the pleasant summer evenings.

The Maison Frascati closed at the Restoration, following the law closing down gaming rooms. (Source)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Fawn Princess~ Tokugawa Ieyasu x Reader

Summary: Having reached a certain age, Ieyasu, as a Lord, is pressured into taking a wife. He absolutely despises the duties of nobles, though he begrudgingly has to accept. Little does he know, he was going to meet a woman like no other; A woman so special, that you had to be born under a lucky star to have the privilege of meeting her.

“Lord Tokugawa, the Princesses have arrived.” Ieyasu’s most trusted servant came by to his study, meekly announcing him that the beautiful young maidens have all came at his castle. “Make sure they are comfortable and all the pleasantries. I don’t feel like coming yet.” the man grumbled, not even bothering to raise his eyes up from his medicine study.

Without another word, the servant exited the study and went to do everything as instructed. He was old and weary, but he was the one to know Lord Tokugawa since he was young - A little anti-social and introverted, and perhaps his social skills would be in need of a little honeying, but his heart was golden, and in the right place - After all, an innocent baby fawn would never stay around so willingly around an evil man, yes?

Ieyasu was never truly interested in women, and he despised his duty as a noble; having to marry, to continue to bloodline lineage and so on - He didn’t have time for all this! Medicine was ever developing at such a rapid pace, how was he supposed to keep up with it, if all he is supposed to do is to exchange meaningless pleasantries with mindless, shallow women?

It wasn’t necessarily that he blamed the maidens, it wasn’t as though they had any say in it. In fact, Ieyasu felt pity for them, like he pitied caged animals. They had no free will of their own, and if they dared rebel or stray away from the path already dictated to them, they were reprimanded, or worse, punished, to the point of receiving corporeal scoldings. It was cruel, the fate of a woman, and he never did wish to be a lady - Petite, slender, frail and forced to do nothing more than to be a beauty and please her lord husband, seducing him into sleeping with them and creating heirs.

That was not a life. It was less than a half-life. In fact, it was often that Ieyasu thought even slaves had better lives than these noble women.  Still, he had to choose a bride to marry very soon - Whether he liked her or not, it mattered little, at least she would have the privilege of liberty and freedom to do as she wishes. He couldn’t care less - As long as she wasn’t betraying him, she could do as she pleased. Whoever that may be, was of no interest to him.

He didn’t even realise that three more hours passed, but the servant came by again to remind him of the feast, and that it was already over, and the ladies were all but settled in their own rooms. It was perfect, he thought, happy that he unintentionally managed to avoid his responsibilities for one more day. Just one more free day as a bachelor, who has time to do whatever he wants without as much as a second thought.

That night, Ieyasu went for a walk in the gardens; he always found a little walk before sleeping to be the best way to rest and get himself physically tired enough to fall asleep instantaneously. He was supposed to go by the lotus pond that perfectly mirrored the silver moon zircons on its sheen, and it had fireflies flickering everywhere, and about this season, the wisteria trees would be gently swaying with the gentle breeze.

Instead, things went different. As Ieyasu made his way to the pond, sitting at the base a great, old tree, there stood a beauty, playing a tragic tune on her flute. He was never one to care for arts, as much as he did for his science and war studies, but even he couldn’t deny that the sorrow of her melody was able to move even him. He wasn’t sure whether it was her song, or her beauty, or perhaps it was that she was able to somehow lure in various little critters from the forest, including Wasabi, but one thing was certain - Whatever she did, even if it was a highly calculated scheme of hers to attract his attention and marry him, it seemed to have a positive effect regardless.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” the man didn’t realise how harsh and cold his voice sounded, but as soon as the edge in his tone was heard, the beauty gasped and all the animals started running away - Save for Wasabi, of course, who happily trotted over to him. The lady, however, hid her face with the long sleeve of her kimono and attempted to run away. “Don’t run away like that. It’s rude to have such behaviour with the lord of the castle you’re at.” the woman painfully stopped moving at once, seemingly frozen in space. Ieyasu frowned - Did he scare her away, he wondered? How foolish. He wasn’t scary, nor did he believe himself to have an intimidating exterior. In fact, he often heard women call him - Angelic, even. “You are one of the maiden candidates, are you not?” she nodded her head timidly, though she hadn’t turned her face to be seen. “Tell me your name.” the woman shook her head. “Are you refusing to abide the order of the lord? How brave. Why?” he almost felt amused by her stubbornness. “I did not think anyone would find me here. Forgive me, My Lord, though I do not wish to create any impartiality amongst myself and the other ladies that have come for the same reason.” he did expect a beautiful voice, however, he didn’t expect it to be so low, yet so soft and gentle, like touching the petal of a flower wet with the morning dew. “Most women would jump at the opportunity of marrying a wealthy lord with direct ties to the Emperor’s bloodline. Do you claim to be different?” he asked, crossing his arms to his chest and smirking to himself, wishing to see how far could he push her boundaries. “Forgive me, My Lord, I did not wish any disrespect, and if I did, however, offend you, you may punish me however you see fit.” the girl, despite her politeness and well chosen words, seemed so awkward and shy, even just with another person. Was it because of his status, or because he was a man, and maidens were never allowed to be alone with a man? “No harm done. Just answer my question.” he urged her further, watching her head raise with a nod. “I have abused my parents love for oneself for far too long, My Lord. I wish not to profit over their pampering of me any longer.” she explained. “I have never been punished by them for indulging in... Rather unlady-like activities, as some may call them. My grandmother even taught me how to read, and taught me various skills. My father encouraged me to be curious and venture further to quench my thirst for the unknown. But for how long can a woman remain but a little girl, still holding on precious the long lost years of her childhood, before she realises that her duty is not to herself, but to everyone else?” as suspected, a tragic answer, for a tragic woman, though still slightly above many others in terms of happiness. This one seemed to have blended her duty and her passions rather well. He felt like a tyrant, stopping her from pursuing her dreams and aspirations, if she were a diligent and bright scholar like himself. Even so, they were not married - Perhaps there would be another that would catch his eye far more, that would pique his interest like one never before.  “Being a woman in a man’s world cannot be easy, can it. First, being the property of thy father, then, being sold of to another man to be his own precious little thing. How pitiful.” the man scoffed, though he earned no reaction from the woman. “You may return to your chambers.” “I wish you sweet dreams, My Lord. To your fawn also.” her wishes bewildered him with their peculiarity, though he couldn’t help but watch the maiden’s silhouette, all the way until she entered the castle, her long, shiny hair swaying with every step she so gracefully took.  “Even animals are treated better than women - Don’t you agree, Wasabi?” Ieyasu felt the sweet little fawn licking his hand, as they returned to his dormitory.

However, the young Lord was unable to sleep well for the night, thoughts and theories of the lady plaguing him without rest. He wanted so dearly to know more about her, like a medical riddle that he wishes to solve faster, to find the antidote to a fatal poison, and that was what he did best - Researching and solving things. He was a revolutionary man, brilliant in all domains, be them academic or warmongering.

The next morning, after their breakfast, a grand festivity took place, for the Lord to inspect the ladies - He was supposed to choose a wife and as many concubines as he wished to; Such a notion irked him endlessly - He could barely get used to the idea of having a duty for a single woman, let alone more. There were a total of thirty women that have arrived, all of them, Princesses from highly respected warlords that are fighting for the Oda forces.

In rows of five, they were supposed to appear before him, and he was to choose - But would he even like any of them, he wondered. No - Of course he would, there was that mysterious lady from the previous night who evaded his sight so well. Ieyasu smirked, getting comfortable in his chair, realising that this might become a little game of cat and mouse, whether he would be able to pick her out from so many other women or not; He always valued his perfect intuition, and he was confident that he will succeed with his own makeshift idea of mischief regardless.

The first row of five ladies came forward, and they bowed before him, said a little pleasantry and what not. The servant spoke out their names and their families, but he cared little about their status. He was above that - He was stubborn, and he refused to submit to the pressures of the noble people.

At the fifth row, Ieyasu’s eyes opened wide, and he smirked, jolting to his feet in front of a woman with agate earrings and rich, gold and jade accessories in her hair. His hand reached up to touch her earring, looking down at her. “I wonder how can someone who is too poor to afford a rich dress was able to not only afford the most expensive jade hair pins, but also, agate earrings.” “Forgive me, my lord, I dare not contradict you, though they are carnelian, not agate, and the jade pin is a family heirloom.” Ieyasu couldn’t help but scoff at her. “Give them to me. They do not belong to you, do they? You cannot lie to me. Not only they do not fit your outfit, but they look dreadful on you.” the woman whimpered, fear pooling in her eyes, and with a few swift movements, she placed the accessories on his hand; Tokugawa swished his arm for the women to disappear out of the court, and the last row of ladies to appear.

As he suspected, there was one of the ladies that stood out from the others like an anomaly - Not because she wore the most expensive things, but rather the opposite. She wore peonies in her hair, which was humbly braided, and coincidentally, a butterfly landed on it. She wore no earrings, and her dress, though simple, looked gorgeous on her. “You - Come forward.” the man flapped his hand, gesturing her to come forward.  The mysterious woman elegantly nodded her head, and after a few careful steps, she did a courtesy kowtow. Her face had no expression, rather, it seemed to radiate a dead cold royal grace that only a real Princess could do even in her sleep. “Look up at me and tell me your name.”

Unlike the timidness of the previous night, the woman before him looked him straight in the eyes, hypnotising him with her beauty. “I am Y/N, daughter of Lord Niwa.” her voice, also, was different from the soft-spoken and delicate one from previously - Now, it was low and soothing, like the gentle lullaby of a wise woman. Most of the other women tried so hard to make their voice pitched and feminine, as light as possible; she didn’t. She wasn’t changing herself. She was just like him. “Do you know how to read?” the man asked, and though he was sure she would feel offended - She sketched not a single emotion whatsoever. “I would be unable to live up to mine own expectations, were I not able to proficiently read - And, of course, much more than that.” her answer, though as beautifully sounding as before, had a back-handed connotation. Intriguing. “You are a bold woman, to speak to me like that. You are sharp and intelligent. Many would envy your position, while others would brand you an embarrassment to women-kind.” Ieyasu spoke, though once again, she didn’t even move an inch. “What would you do, should you be caged like a songbird, unable to do anything but sing the melodies taught to you forevermore?” “Then I would sing away my voice, until I have exhausted my use, and await my ultimate death. There is far more at stake than my own life, that is, my family’s reputation and honour. Without them, I would be a songbird incapable of singing any tune whatsoever.” she replied, and though her tone was mild, it almost felt to Ieyasu that she was provoking him. “And if you were allowed to roam free and pursue any activity that you wished for? What, then, would you be doing?” he continued his line of questioning. “There is forever more information to be learnt, and all skills have infinite proficiency levels, many of them that I wish to acquire, not only for mine own curiosity, but for the betterment of my people’s lives, and of those who would be in need of aid, yet cannot afford. I have plenty wealth, though have not what to spend it on. What better than charity and helping the people live a better life that I can do with such wealth that is not even of my property?” Tokugawa Ieyasu felt his heart beating for the first time, and he felt inclined to raise the edge of his apricot coloured scarf up to his mouth, in hopes of hiding away the warmth of his pale, cold cheeks. “Are you telling me that you are interested in arts that only men are allowed to dabble in? Such as medicine, calculus, physics, alchemy and what not?” he asked, wanting to learn more and more about the woman. She gave a curt, affirmative answer, which garnered a choir of gasps and murmurs of disbelief. “Quiet, all of you.” Ieyasu’s harsh bark tensed up the atmosphere, though none dared speak any more. “Why is it that you think you can approach successfully such difficult areas that even the most educated of maesters cannot achieve oftimes?” “Most people tell the gender of a rabbit by its movement - The male runs quickly, while the female often keeps her eyes shut; But when the two rabbits run side by side, can you really discern whether I am a he or a she?” Ieyasu’s brilliant jade-like eyes widened, and he felt breathless, hearing the woman perfectly quote a stanza from the Ballad of Mulan, so boldly as if she herself were the warrior-woman. “Men are unable to comprehend the true pains of a woman, and as all healers are men, and they are strictly forbidden from touching a woman’s skin, especially of a higher status, then how are women supposed to survive more threatening diseases and ailments? Seeing such a tragic deficit in our healthcare system, I have decided that, given my mental capacity, I should be able to take on the burden myself. I have been successful thus far.” the small yet so very smug smile that she offered made his mind go crazy. “If I am to take you as my wife, I have to know that I can rely on you. I am a warlord, and we are in the midsts of war. Brilliance and ambition you have plenty, as well as boldness - But what if you waver in front of danger?” at once, the man gestured to her to get up, as he stepped backwards a few feet. “Do not break eye contact with me.”

A servant came over, throwing a bucket of water at her feet, yet Princess Y/N nonchalantly stepped over it without a second thought. The loud noises behind her, from the other ladies, or the claps purposely made close to her ear to startle her still had no effect on her, as she was completely captivated by Ieyasu’s softening gaze - She’d even dare go as far as to say - Timidness seemed to be overtaking him, the more they kept looking at each other. The test continued so until Ieyasu pranced forward and drew his sword, touching her flawless skin and raising her chin delicately. The silence created tension for everyone, especially all the envious ladies whose hearts stopped at once, yet the two became deeper and deeper enchanted by one another. 

It wasn’t until another one of the servants, possibly an older chatelaine holding a cat, stepped next to them, throwing the animal violently to the ground. Instead of letting the animal suffer, the Princess swiftly slapped the blade away and threw herself to the ground, catching with perfect reflexes the terrified feline, before rising back again. She was gently petting the animal and whispering tender words in the same magical tone that she used the previous night, before returning her gaze up at the blond Lord.

“You lost my challenge.” though his voice was deadpan, the mischief was evident in his glittering green eyes. “Life is above all else - Their lives also.” she pointed out, stepping closer to the Lord, as though to show that, no matter what he threw her way, she was not afraid of braving any of his trials. “You lost the challenge, though managed to impress me.” he nodded his head as he sheathed his sword. “I would be honoured if you would be my wife.” at once, he took off the jade tassel that he kept tied subtly to his sash, and shyly reached to tie it to her own obi. “By all means, the honour is all mine, Lord Tokugawa.” with the way she inclined her gaze down as soon as she addressed him by his lordly title, it felt as though a cold barrier of ice was placed between them, and Ieyasu, for a second, resented his noble status. This woman was capable of intriguing him with her cheek and shrewdness, so of course, he wanted to get to know her better, to unveil the mystery behind those gorgeous eyes of hers that sparkled with cleverness and kindness.

He wondered if she gave away her accessories to that poorer Princess on purpose, to play coy with him, or simply, because she tried to sabotage her own chances of success. She did voice her love for her home and her parents, and now, she will be taken away from them for quite a long time. Not that he wouldn’t allow her to visit, of course he would, why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t like it was going to do him any harm, after all. She could do whatever she wanted, as long as she wasn’t getting in his way.

Their wedding was simple yet beautiful, and though Ieyasu was visibly uncomfortable and awkward, outright unable to look at his wife, Y/N seemed to have perfect control over each and every one of her actions. The man almost felt pity for her, realising that it, no doubt, she wasn’t overthinking anything she was doing, preferring to act like the marionette that noble ladies were forced to become for their husbands. It irked him, to no end, that his wife had to be some mindless doll, when she so evidently expressed heaps of brightness that wanted desperately to come out and manifest into the world.

Every move she made, even the slightest twitch of her finger joints, was perfectly calculated to ensure the maximum amount of flawless grace that a Princess must have. He won’t allow her to torture herself like that in his own home. There is no way for one to go about their normal studying when in constant need to control the amount of time they blink or breath whilst around him.

“A woman must always count the amount of words her husband speaks, so that, if she is ever spoken to, and has to reply, she will not use more words than him. It would be disrespectful for him, and thus, proves that I am an unruly wife and in dire need of disciplining.” she told him the evening before the wedding. Ieyasu almost felt like pulling out his hair from frustration. Who in the world came up with such ridiculously rigid and prohibitory rules for women to begin with? Their country, not so long ago, was known to prefer a rather matriachal societal ruling, which, with the rise of Confucianism and men’s desire to be more powerful than anything, including the Gods themselves, women became nothing more than breedingstocks with pretty faces. How ridiculous.

“As long as you are in the province I rule - And I mean all of it, not only the castle - You don’t need to ask for permission to speak. Do whatever you please, I don’t care, I’m not forbidding you from doing anything at all. Alright?” Ieyasu made sure to put forth his rule, and hopefully, she will take it to heart. “You are most gracious and kind, my Lord Husband.” Ieyasu was very close to dragging his nails across his face out of annoyance with all these unnecessary pleasantries. He was her husband, not some kind of Lord she had to make a war alliance with. She wasn’t a Geisha, nor a courtesan, she needn’t flatter him any longer. “Stop talking like that. You’re so troublesome.” he grumbled softly. “No more pleasantries and any of the excess words you’re ironically forced to use with strangers. We are family, and that is boring me to death.” Ieyasu flipped his hand dismissively, not bothering to look the lady in the eyes, though he was rather curious if she reacted at all. “Am I allowed to become your chatelaine, then? To study under your maesters and physicians too?” the man nodded his head simply. “Stop asking me for permission I’ve already given. Go around, explore, go out, buy whatever you want - I don’t care. Just stay out of my way. I don’t have time for idle talks or disturbances.” with that, the Lord of Mikawa left the hall and went about his business. Y/N’s maid looked at the Princess and smiled cheerfully. “My Lady, your Lord Husband is truly an enlightened man! I told you, you were born under a lucky star! You feared marriage so much, yet you were chosen by such a lovely man!” the Princess said nothing at all, instead, she offered her maid a gentle smile before walking away towards her assigned room. 

Y/N has always been proud of how hard-working and diligent she was, and she was determined to show that Ieyasu hadn’t been wrong in choosing her, out of so many other gorgeous ladies that passed before his beautiful green eyes. In a month, the Castle of Ozaki was already in such a flawless state, that even Lord Tokugawa was shocked that it was possible. He always thought he had the most efficient servants, but apparently, even he could be wrong in some regards. He was impressed with the cleanliness of the whole place, and he could even appreciate how great the flowers surrounding the castle looked. The gardens were well taken care of, and even the food seemed to be more delicious. He couldn’t understand how that could happen, but he was glad that it happened.

And what he loved the most, though he would never admit it out loud, but Y/N would come by his study with hot, aromatic tea and some snacks for him, and she would remain silent for the remainder of her visit, whilst she would pour him tea in his cup whenever it emptied, and would grind his ink to help him out whenever he needed to write loads. It was such a simple thing to do, and his servants always did these things for him, but somehow, with Y/N, it felt so intimate, that it sometimes distracted him from work, as his eyes would linger to her delicate hands, or the serene smile that graced her features. He never felt his way before, why was his heart beating so much faster, as though he was running into battle, when he was safest there?

When he was working on a new antidote also, she would be creeping nearby, organising and arranging all the ingredients and tomes on the shelves, and though it made things easier for Ieyasu, that wasn’t what he felt most appealing, but how she would walk slower whenever next to him, just to steal a peek at the scribblings and doodles he’d make on the many thrown around papers on the desk whilst attempting to come up with a new revolutionary medicine - Only for her to place some plants or root that he hadn’t even thought about in front of him, and she would gently explain the reasoning behind suggesting it. Be it that it would enhance the effect of one of the ingredients he wanted to use, or that it counters some kind of poison - Somehow, anything that Ieyasu created with the aid of Y/N, seemed to have miraculous effects, and he loved this kind of success.

Many more months flew by so fast, yet for Ieyasu, the time spent together with his Princess definitely felt like a dream come true. His mind seemed to have calmed, though it remained hyper focused on his work - Work that became so much easier to complete and perfect further; and when he’d go sleep, he would rest his head on her lap and fall asleep to the sound of a soft melody hum and the soothing caress of her fingers playing with his hair. If he wished to relax, he would go for a walk by the pond as usual, followed by his sweet Wasabi, yet now, Y/N would be right by his side; be it simply for her tender presence, or to play a tune on the flute - There was something so tranquil about her being there with him, without any need to actually engage in small talk, or to interact meaninglessly. It felt like a reverie, and for the first time in his life, Ieyasu thought that life was actually exquisite.

But there was still one thing that Ieyasu was completely oblivious to, and that was the pains of his wife. Never once did she display any kind of negative emotion, nor did she tell him that there was something bothering her at all - Neither would he have found out from her, of course, she never complained, but the gossiping maids became far too loud and even if he wanted to, there was no way to pass it off only to idle, meaningless chattering.

“Princess Y/N has gotten thinner, hadn’t she? How is she going to birth an heir for Lord Tokugawa if her hips and chest are as small as her waist?” one of them spoke. “How can she birth an heir, if Lord Tokugawa doesn’t even want to spend the night with her? Not that I blame him - Have you ever seen her smile? I didn’t. She looks stone cold. Even the Lord isn’t as strict and inapproachable as she is.” the other one’s reply made his blood boil with anger.   “Right? I’m always so afraid of messing something up. It feels like she’s everywhere, watching me like a hawk. It’s almost like she wants to see me fail, just to punish me.” Ieyasu leaned back on the wall, making himself comfortable whilst assessing the gossip. “Has she punished servants before?” as she gasped in shock, Y/N rushed by, only to stop abruptly as soon as she noticed her husband. He raised a shushing finger to his mouth and motioned for her to get by quietly. “Well... No, not really, but you can’t disagree with me that she is quite scary. I mean - It has been half a year already, a virtuous lady would have already been heavily burdened with child.” for the first time, Ieyasu noticed Y/N rolling her eyes in evident impatience and annoyance. “I feel the same! This summer has seen a draught like never before - If the Princess behaved as a admirable and charitable as a virtuous noble lady is supposed to behave, none of this would have happened!” Y/N crossed her arms to her chest, her sight going up in the sky, as she gritted her teeth in boredom. It was clear she already knew of these talks, which only irked the Lord further. “Lord Tokugawa should take a few concubines already, otherwise there’s no way for the bloodline to continue. Don’t you know? My grandmother always said that, if the province becomes barren as soon as the Lord marries, it is because the wife is barren also. How can she conceive if she is useless?” Ieyasu was about to leap at them, but Y/N grabbed him by the clothes and kept him back, shaking her head. He could only look at her in shock and confusion, yet she didn’t answer. “Lord Tokugawa’s own father divorced his first lady wife, to take another. He should do the same.” he could only watch quizzically as the Princess quickly composed herself and stepped behind the gossiping maids, clearing her throat. The two squeaked pathetically and started trembling in fear as they bowed courteously. “Instead of chattering idly, you should return to your work. Heavens forbid my Lord husband hearing you speaking about him behind his back.” Ieyasu was bewildered - Y/N tone didn’t sound angry, nor did it hold any lingering of annoyance - Instead, it was calm and graceful as it always was. The maids fell to the ground, bowing pathetically, before running away to whatever their job was. “You should have let me punish them. They deserve it.” finally, he stepped by her side, disgusted by the awful gossips he heard. “The snake does not lose sleep over the chattering of mice.” his eyes widened, flabbergast at the comparison. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” he asked, unable to find a viable answer. “Why would I have? I don’t see any relevance to their words. They cannot hurt me. If they are so simple and allowed themselves to fall to the muddle-headed platitude of gossiping and spreading rumours, then, by all means, let them. As long as they do what they are told, and do it well, then there is nothing to be concerned about.” she explained, only to quickly add another short line. “Unless, of course, you have noticed a downgrading in the way the castle works - Then, I would have to take immediate action to remediate that temporary flaw.” Ieyasu shook his head, sighing. “Nothing of the sort - In fact, things have never went better than now, and that is thanks to your hard work.” he muttered lightly. “I am happy to hear that, then.” the Princess nodded her head, a small smile of appreciation appearing on her face. “Well then, if that is all, then I would like to ask you to please erase all of this from your memory. It is not worth losing precious seconds of your time thinking about it. I, too, have to return to my work. If you will excuse me --” Ieyasu rose his hand instantaneously, gently grabbing her chin and tilting it up to make her look at him. “I... Deeply appreciate you, Y/N. I would never think about letting you go, or taking other women.” it took all of his self-control not to cover his whole face with the scarf, as his eyes, no matter how much they tried to remain fixed on Y/N’s angelic visage, kept darting away in shyness.

Instead, he heard Y/N’s lovely giggle for the first time ever, and her sweet lips planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I am truly lucky to have met you, Ieyasu. You are a wonderful man. Thank you for choosing me.” with a tender smile, Y/N left Ieyasu behind, flustered and almost faint from the unexpected interaction he had with his wife. Half a year passed, and he was forced to admit to himself, that he was truly and irredeemably in love with Y/N Niwa.

At home, or during war meetings, Ieyasu was thinking about Y/N constantly, and unfortunately for him, he even let her name slip at some point - It was a perfectly casual conversation, he just off-handly mentioned her name - Perhaps he mentioned she helped him out with some medicine, or she gave him some brilliant idea; Regardless, not only Masamune, but Mitsuhide and even Lord Nobunaga started teasing him actively, to the point of almost wanting to decapitate them.

Though he was able to keep their mouth shut since then, whenever he’d mentioned her name, attached to a rather brilliant strategic idea that she came with, to the point of impressing the lords. It was his time to feel smug, and of course, since then, he shared all of his papers and plans with her, asking for her insight and brainstorming. She picked up on important details so easily, and she could find loopholes in places where perhaps even Mitsunari had difficulty. It was then that realised what a vital member of the Oda forces Y/N was, and he started bringing her to the council whenever he went. He didn’t realise how he felt so dependent on her, how at ease he felt around her, and how proud he was of her, whenever she expressed her insight and presented her point of view.

“My lord, I understand that the Princess has some good points, politically speaking, but she is a woman, what would she know of war, except for what Ieyasu tells her?” Hideyoshi once complained, during one of the meetings, and though Ieyasu felt irked at the blatant disrespect his wife received, it was Nobunaga himself who allowed her to defend herself. “I believe Princess Y/N has proved she is worthy of her seat at my council, just like all of you present here. Do you have anything to say in your defense, Y/N?” Nobunaga’s smug smirk made Hideyoshi depressed, seeing that his opinion was in the minority, even shut down by his most beloved Lord. “The lion does not concern itself with the opinions of sheep, Lord Nobunaga.” the comment garnered a few laughing outbursts, along with some sniggerings. “Ashigaru.” it was the first time that Ieyasu ever saw such an ice-cold smirk, and a blatantly poisonous insult escaping her pretty mouth. He was so proud of her, yet so amused at how angry Hideyoshi got - It was his fault, after all. His wife simply defended herself.

If only Ieyasu wasn’t so timid, he would cling onto her, melting in her loving embrace, kissing her all over her face, and never letting go of her. He loved her so much, so - so much, that it was unreal. How could a woman hold such domain over him? How can she have such power, to keep him captive in her tender clutches, mentally, emotionally, even physically? What was she doing to him, that all he could think about the whole day was her?

He trusted her so whole-heartedly, that on more vulnerable night, he would tell her about his childhood, about how he was abducted by Nobunaga’s father at only five years old, used as hostage, only to be sent away for an alliance at the Imagawa clan. He spoke of his childhood, though he could hardly call it that - His childhood was robbed from him. It was traumatic, yet, but he didn’t linger on it. Instead, he preferred to hear and perhaps vicariously live through Y/N’s own childhood. Somehow, she only ever told him the good things, as if to make him smile. A perfect childhood, for a perfect girl, living in a perfect world, with the perfect family.

Whether it was learning how to play the flute and the zither, or some poems that she loved to read, perhaps the medicine and concoctions she learnt how to prepare, or playing around with weapons with her elder brother and being a better horse-rider and archer than him. 

He loved all of it, and sometimes, he would find himself day-dreaming about what would it be like, should he be a child now, with a serene life, just playing around through the gardens and what now. They were the complete opposite, with Ieyasu only sharing the bad parts of his life, whilst Y/N only spoke of the positive. There was no way that he could have known of any horrible memory, or fear that she might have. 

So of course, it was nothing less than shocking when he witnessed his wife, covered in blood splattered all over her, running away towards the stream. His first thought was to run back to the castle and see what happened - Did someone attack the place, and she escaped? But she wasn’t crying, nor was she screaming or in distress - Did she get frustrated with a failed experiment? Perhaps it wasn’t even blood, just some pomegranate or tomato juice that exploded? Much was his surprise when he was met with the ever loud chattering from the gossiping maids, involuntarily informing him of what had happened. “It is already the fifth woman in Mikawa that Y/N killed, you know? Do you think she’s doing it intentionally? Killing pregnant women because she is unable to conceive?” Y/N? Killing someone? That couldn’t be. “It wouldn’t surprise me. You know how it is, especially with noble women. If you’re unable to give birth to an heir in the first year of marriage, the lord is going to throw you out, or, at the very least, lose all favoured. Perhaps she is afraid Lord Tokugawa is going to divorce her... Or maybe her parents won’t accept her back.” another one spoke more rubbish. “Or both, who knows? Still, it is doing her no good, her reputation is tarnishing very swiftly. A woman should never meddle in the arts of men. She should just stay put, play cards with other noble women, do her make up and embroider. She’s doing it to herself, you know? The elders keep scolding her, but she doesn’t even listen! She goes about her day all the same!” Ieyasu was getting rapidly fed up with the slander. “Guards! Take these two maids and cut their tongues off. Perhaps, this way, they will know that slander and gossip is forbidden.” the two women fell to the ground, bowing and weeping pitifully, begging for mercy. “You dared speak ill of the Princess, who is benevolent and never punished you. I am a man, I have no patience for the silly past times of some evil, incompetent maids.” with a dismissive hand from the Lord, the guards dragged them away, as Ieyasu went in the room, trailing the blood left in large blots to the ground.

Once he arrived to the chamber, he noticed the old mid-wife that delivered him years ago. She looked sorrowful, wetting a towel and cleaning the dead body of a butchered woman. He slowly stepped by her side, and though she attempted to raise and bow, he immediately stopped him. She was old, and had done him enough services - She needn’t do anything so humbly. Not for him. He urged her to explain to him what happened, only to see her sigh, even sadder.

“Oh, Young Lord, if only you knew the misfortunes that follow women of this realm, you would think it one of the pitiful stories that I used to tell you when you were but a tiny, little babe.” she sighed once again before continuing. “The Princess... Ah, what a wonderful, pure soul. She tries so hard to ease the pains of the less fortunate... But she is no God, and people, especially her, fail to understand that. If one is fated to die young, no amount of intervention can save them.” “I don’t understand. What happened to this woman? And what is with all this blood?” the man asked, removing the blanket from her lower part, revealing her large belly and the large, horizontal gash. “Did Y/N do this?” The old woman nodded her head. “There have been a string of dystocic pregnancies for these young women... Ah, Heavens, they were not women, they were barely fourteen... A child, killed by a child...” despite the exclamations typical of an old woman, Ieyasu began to piece together the bits she was telling him. “Seeing all these complications, the Princess started learning about the Way of the Blade on dead animals, and then, dead bodies, hoping to learn how to properly perform such an act on a poor girl, struggling and wailing in agony... But no matter what she did... With a cut like that, how can a little girl like this survive? And the babe, too... They were already long dead by the time they were taken out of the womb.” the old woman had to wipe away the escaping tears. Ieyasu stared down at the gruesome image of the young girl that was supposed to be a mother. She had perineal tearing, and the skin on her thighs had ruptured from the effort. The slice of the belly was deep, yet perfectly clean and sharply done. “Kaede, I understand these complications happened because of their frail age, and the risks are higher because their bodies hadn’t developed enough... But are these risks viable for adult women also?” fear started creeping into his heart, gnawing and tainting away at him rapidly. “Unfortunately, Young Lord, there are risks for any pregnancy. They say, during childbirth, women are already with one foot in hell, and they are fighting against the demons that are trying to take them away.” Ieyasu felt himself shivering softly.  “Y/N knows these risks too, I’m sure.” the old woman nodded her head. “Is this why she ran away from here? It seems uncharacteristic of her, allowing others to do work that she shouldered herself.” “Poor Princess is a victim of her own fears, like most women are. Please don’t be too harsh on her, she’s trying her best. Princess Y/N does not like speaking much about her, in fear of burdening others... However, after a rather painful childbirth that ended in death, she revealed that, even back home, she assisted soon to be mothers, and had lost many friends to this, including her younger sister.” Ieyasu’s eyes widened, his head snapping towards the old lady. “Y/N had a younger sister?” she never mentioned anything about a sister - Only her elder brother. Is it because all the beautiful memories she has of her end with a most painful epilogue? “Yes, in fact, she was barely fifteen by the time of her death. Married some Lord that she loved, she wanted a few children of her own, she really wanted to be a mother, as she said. Her hips were too small, and the baby couldn’t get out. Princess Y/N had to cut her belly open herself - She was able to save the baby - It was a girl... And since it was not a boy, thus, not an heir... The husband didn’t want to accept it as his child. He called Princess Y/N’s sister... Rather uncouth words, accusing her of adultery, and now, Princess Y/N’s mother takes care of the child, as though she is her own daughter.”

Ieyasu couldn’t believe what he was hearing - All this information, and he had to hear it from his old nan, instead of his own wife. Was she not trusting him, or was she too afraid of speaking these things with anyone? He couldn’t blame her - Women are taught to be afraid of their husbands - But he had hoped he was able to reassure her into trusting him with her very being.

With a mumbled thank you, Ieyasu stole one last glance at the poor young girl, and as Y/N’s image flashed before his eyes, in the same posture, he, too, jolted to his feet and bolted out of the castle, unable to keep overthinking. There weren’t many things that could shake him mentally, but when it came to Y/N’s well-being, he was nothing but a puddle of melted ice.

When he reached the stream, he saw Y/N kneeling on the ground, continuously scrubbing away the blood from her skin and from the blood stained coat - Only, there hadn’t been any spot of red of it in a while, it was only in her imagination. She was staring blankly at the running stream, her expression completely empty, save for a soft furrow of her brows. Ieyasu went to sit next to her, yet she acted as though he wasn’t even there. He wanted to offer her her space, to speak whenever she felt comfortable, hoping that his presence alone would offer her comfort - Instead, she remained silent. Even more, she got up soon after and attempted to leave.

“How are you feeling?” robotically, she stopped dead in her tracks, rigid and stiff, just like during that night when he called her out. “Just fine.” somehow, she managed to keep her voice in check and under control. “Please don’t hide away from me. You were there for me when I needed you the most. Let me in, Y/N.” there was a heavy silence, save for the rippling of the river. “Kaede told you, didn’t she?” with a confirmation, Y/N took a sharp inhale. “Worry not. I will not neglect my duties as a wife.” “Do you think I care about that?!” infuriated, Ieyasu shot up to his feet. “I don’t care about some child, I care about you!” he wasn’t one to yell, it was so unlike him, and from the shape of Y/N’s body, it was clear she was a little startled by the unexpected outburst. “If you are dead, what’s the point? You are more important to me than any pretentious thing like an heir.” she was unable to say any word. “Y/N - Forgive me, I didn’t mean to shout. I just don’t think you realise how much I love you. I know I’m not good with words, and even my actions aren’t great - But I treasure you more than anything in the world. Do you not trust me enough to tell me what pains you?” “Please... Don’t take it this way.” finally, with a soft voice filled with anguish, she was able to reply. “Whenever something bad happens, I just try my best to erase it from my mind. I try to pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t want to be plagued by the torment all my life.” “That is the exact opposite of what you’ve been encouraging me to do.” she nodded her head. “You are such a hypocrite.” despite her sadness, Y/N found herself exhaling with amusement. “I know. I am the biggest hypocrite there is. I could never follow my own advice. It is not that I don’t trust you - But that I love you so much, that I’d rather take on all of your burdens and keep you happy, than acknowledge my own problems. You have enough to deal with anyway. You are the Lord of Mikawa, and an important ally of the Oda forces. We are in the brink of war - The last thing I care about is some silly old sadness of mine.” suddenly, Y/N felt herself being embraced from behind, a kiss being placed on her temple. “I take you with me to war councils, you help me with medicine, with studies, sometimes you even accompany me when I train or go hunting. You are my wife, Y/N, but not only that - You are my most cherished person. Without you, I am lost. I cannot be happy if you are not. I hope you won’t be afraid of telling me how you’re feeling from now on, no matter what it is. If you are afraid of something, no matter what it is, I will be there to protect you. When you are upset, I will have my arms open, and I will hold you as you cry; And when you are happy, I will be there to watch you smile. You are human, like any other, Y/N. Don’t pretend to be otherwise just because of what others say.” despite the soft trembling of her body, Y/N didn’t cry, though her heart was aching and begging her to release all of her pent up emotions. Instead, she smiled, and squeezed his hands as thanks. “I truly was born under a lucky star, to have been chosen by a man like yourself, my love.” he wasn’t sure why, even after so long, Ieyasu still felt his cheeks warming up at the simplest compliment from her.

He truly thought he was a good husband, and even when he had his doubts, Y/N would immediately reassure him, telling him he is the best thing that ever happened in her life, and how lucky she is for having the privilege of being married to him - All this, while pampering him and kissing his face all over, to the point of flustering him into hiding his face away from her. Whenever he did that, she knew she had succeeded in her plan of cheering him up.

But it was only he, whose life was getting better and better, while her life was getting worse. He did everything he could, alleviating any external pressure or influence, especially from the elders or the gossiping maids who dared slander her for her passions and the lack of an heir - As if he cared about that, when war had been crippling the lands for a whole century? 

Y/N’s mother had been brought to the capital, to receive the best health care possible, as she’s been afflicted with an awful disease - When she heard that, Y/N quickly discarded all of the jewellery and the rich outer layer of her kimono, and with a sash, she dexterously tied back the long sleeves of her outfit as she ran through corridors of lords and lordlings, pushing them away. “Out of my way! Get out! Move already, damn it!” those who didn’t know who the wench was wanted to grab her and punish her for her insulting behaviour, but one order from the Lord of Owari was enough to split the ocean of men standing in her way.

For days, Ieyasu hadn’t seen his wife, and he grew ever more worried - What if she gets ill also? What if her mind breaks from all the anguish? It cannot be easy, treating your own mother, the person you love more than life itself - And especially, it cannot be easy having to see her health decaying so rapidly before your very eyes, and hearing the weak voice of hers, once filled with vitality, telling her final wishes and praises to her sweet daughter.

He never once saw her crying, but he was afraid that, if he does, he too would break down on the spot. He did the mistake of going over to the room where she was taking care of her mother, bringing her food and tea in hopes of making sure she isn’t neglecting her health, but as soon as he saw that exhausted and tormented expression on her face, he felt the tray fall from his grasp - Thankfully, he kept composed. She hadn’t even picked up on his arrival, were it not for the semi-conscious mother alerting her.

She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t wailing, nor was she screaming in anguish - Instead, she was deadly silent, like a lake without fish in it. She was so absorbed in her quest of saving her mother, that she forgot all about her own self in the process; He was afraid, however, that should he remind her that she is a human being, with emotions and a rational mind, she couldn’t take it. He wanted to just hold her in his arms and protect her from any thing around her that could be even remotely upsetting - But unfortunately, he, more than anyone, knew how that wish was nothing less than impossible.

Was she incapable of crying altogether, he had wondering thoughts at some point, realising that, although very close to, and quivering, in the year they’ve been together, he had not seen his wife cry once, despite all the emotional hardships she had to endure, one after the other. He had seen plenty women cry, even from the silliest of things; but not Y/N. Never her. It must be one of those silly rules from that God-awful Chinese book, written by Empress whatever, dictating in particular detail how all women, and wives especially, must behave in society, and most of all, in front of their husbands. If he could, he’d burn that book from the face of the earth, never to hear of it again. He wanted Y/N to be eternally free of any shackle and rope that she might feel herself held back by. It was torment, watching her wilt away, like the most beautiful flower in late autumn.

And then, when her mother died, he could see how hard she was gritting her teeth, all to keep herself composed, and immediately went to plan the funeral.  She was dressed in simple, white, mourning garments, just like everyone else around her. Though no make up, and looking like an onryo, her long hair, shining in the Sun, contrasting the sickly paleness of her colourless pigment, and she stared emptily at the pyre on which her mother’s beautiful body laid. She had dressed her up herself, and applied make up the way she knew would look best on her, and her hair was tied with many expensive pins and flowers. On either side of her, her father was a sobbing mess, while her brother was trembling, unable to control himself.

Y/N sighed, staring at the sake bottle, and she took it in her hands before smashing it away from the pyre. “My mother hated alcohol. I will not send her away to the other side with sake. Go make her favourite honeyed tea at once.” the servants didn’t waste another second, and soon, the Princess was offered a tea pot and a cup. With steady hands, she poured a little tea to drink, before spilling the rest of it with perfect precision, in the form of the symbol for the word ‘Love’. It only made her father look away and search for a chair to sit on, feeling her knees buckle.  Seeing that, Y/N went to kneel by his side, and gently, traced his hands to have him let go of the torch. Gladly, he did, and Y/N went to lit it on fire, approaching the pyre. With one last look of grief towards her mother, a kiss on her forehead and a few farewell words, Y/N placed the torch on the fire, igniting it; Though she must not have realised she was still holding her hand on her mother’s face, even when licked by the flames of fire, for it was Lord Nobunaga, closest to her, that snatched away her wrist from the blazing inferno, and gave her a look. From the looks of it, she felt no pain at all, as her heart was in enough anguish to feel anything else.

With a thankful nod of her head, Nobunaga let go of her, watching as she phlegmatically threw away the burning torch in the water basin before turning to address all the lords present. “All of you attending have the deepest gratitude, from the whole family, especially my Lord Father, who is stricken with grief at the moment and unable to express his gratefulness for everyone’s support. As a way to thank everyone for the trouble of coming over and stand in solidarity for our loss, we humbly invite you to a feast in honour of my Lady Mother. Please, if you may -” she opened the door to the banquet room, where everything had already been placed, and the servants were guiding all the lords to their respective seats. Y/N went to help her father get up from the chair, and had him sit at a table between herself and her brother.

Like all men, Ieyasu realised, Lord Niwa was drinking his sorrows away, to the point of becoming a babbling fool. The Young Lord next to him, however, did nothing to save his father from making a fool of himself in front of all the prominent lords of the Oda forces. Though she had to tirelessly run to and fro to make sure everyone was attended by the maids properly, she fell in front of her father, trying to take away the sake from him, replacing it with tea, and forcing him to eat something to alleviate the heavy drunkness of his. Ieyasu could only stare in pity, powerless before a family matter like this. She hadn’t even the time to mourn her beloved mother, for she had to take care of everyone -- But was anyone taking care of her, even the littlest bit?

“Father, please, that is enough drinking. Mother would have hated seeing you in this state. Please, compose yourself, just until we get home.” Ieyasu heard her plead to her father, holding his face in her hands dearly. Yes, he remembers Y/N asking for his permission to return home and take care of her father, until he gets better. To think a husband would be so grief-stricken from the loss of his wife... Ieyasu was unable to look at Lord Niwa, as he imagined himself in the same shape as he, should anything happen to his sweet Y/N. “My sweet Y/N, you are so perfect, my most beloved child -- How were we ever capable of creating a child so perfect is beyond me -- You look so much like your mother, and you’re so smart and talented -- My most precious little flower in the world, always taking care of everyone around her.” sighing, Y/N threw her arms around her father. “It is alright, daddy, no need to say anything else, I understand you heart. I will always be here for you, no matter what happens. I will always be your little girl.” those words would forever haunt Ieyasu, for an eternity, and even far beyond.

For a whole month, Y/N was away, and he felt not only his mind, but his heart in shambles, and it was then that he properly realised how dependent he felt on Y/N, how much his heart longed for her touch, for her sweet words, for her loving embrace and that angelic smile. He missed her like a man lost in the desert missed the shade and water. He wanted nothing more than to march at her home and gather her up in his arms, telling her that everything will be okay, that he is there for her, forever, and that he loves her more than anything in this worlds.

Day in and day out, the castle of Ozaki felt the antsiness of Lord Tokugawa, and the tense atmosphere was nothing less than painful. From the once stern yet kind Lord who spent his time only studying, training and working, he now was so snappy and all the servants found themselves on the wrong end of his thorny wrath, as though they were Uesugi or Takeda themselves. He prayed for the first time in his life, that Y/N’s father would get better already, and Y/N would return to him - He felt so lonely, so out of touch with everything surrounding him; the single touch of normalcy being the company of his darling Wasabi, and the occasional war councils. The pillow seat next to him was empty, in her honour. It was empty, like the bed they shared, like their room, like the whole province of Mikawa; Like his heart especially.

Yet however much he craved for Y/N to return, he didn’t want it to be due to another funeral. From the rumours growing around, her father died from a broken heart, unable to cope with the death of his wife. It was a huge blow emotionally for Ieyasu, fearing something like that happening to him, should Y/N die some day; Yet, of course, the Oda forces too were at a disadvantage, as Lord Niwa was Nobunaga’s right hand for so many decades, first, having aided his father, before aiding the Young Lord.

Just like during her mother’s funeral, it was Y/N who took care of everything, as the brother was too much of a gutless wimp to do anything at all. It was Y/N who took care of the pyre, of burning the corpse of her father, of taking care of the guests at the feast and so on.

He spotted her, at some point, slipping away from the large chamber and going outside, and to the pond - Their special place together. He could hear soft, repeated muttering, over and over again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” she kept saying, to the point that every piece of Ieyasu’s heart broke and shattered.  “My love.” he called out to her, sitting on the grass, in front of her. “Forgive the intrusion. I couldn’t bare the thought of letting you suffer alone.” she kept her head hanging. “It’s alright to cry. You’ve just lost both of your parents, whom you loved dearly. You have every right to mourn.” “I’m afraid, Ieyasu.” the vibrato of her quivering voice was making his eyes sting with gleaming tears. “I’m afraid that, if I do, I won’t be able to stop. That the sorrow will never disappear. That hell and darkness will find me, and drag me down, drowning me.” “That’s why I’m here, Y/N. I’m here to protect you. Don’t run away from me, please. Cry and mourn as much as you need, and rely on me; I will make sure you never fall - And if you do, I’ll be there to catch you and carry you back home.” slowly, his arms made their way around her trembling form, pulling her to his chest as he caressed her hair. “You are safe with me, my love. You can allow yourself to be vulnerable with me. You may cry as much as you need.”

And for the first time since they’ve been married, Ieyasu witnessed his wife crying and cursing, raw wails and words that he never thought he would hear from a woman’s mouth - But he couldn’t blame her. She’s been through enough. In a way, he finally felt like he was doing something for her; It was painful enough, knowing that he wasn’t enough for her, or so he kept telling himself.  He was there for her. He was always there for her, no matter what may happen.

Ieyasu was going to be there, by Y/N’s side, the very same way Y/N was when she saved him from Kennyo himself, when the warrior sect of monks from Ikko-Ikki rebelled on his lands and rebelled against him, to get to Nobunaga.  It was thanks to her, that he found out about the betrayal of some of his once loyal vassals, and it was thanks to her, that he survived a trap set by Kennyo himself.

It was one evening, when he returned to the castle, and as soon as he dismounted his horse, Y/N uncharacteristically ran to him, throwing herself onto him to embrace him. “My Lord husband, how I missed you! Let me draw a bath for you.” with a vixen like grin on her face, she held his hand, dragging him to the bath, urging him to undress. He felt so confused, yet so timid, undressing before her; Y/N was assertive however, and she undressed him herself, before dragging him into the water, his back glued to the wooden wall of the tub. Suddenly, he felt one of her delicate hands tracing his skin, from his ribs and all over his chest, while the other... Showed a scroll to him? “Read it, but remain quiet. You have been betrayed, yet I do not know all the people participating in this ploy.” his body felt stiff, hearing her soft yet ominous whisper in his ear, and forgetting the shyness from his wife seeing him naked for the first time, he let his tired eyes scan the beautiful writing of his sweet Princess, before succumbing the parchment in the water, waiting for it to disintegrate entirely.

Though they didn’t speak out loud about this matter, they both remained fully alert; With Ieyasu writing a letter to Nobunaga, Y/N volunteered to go deliver it herself, not wanting to risk anything interfering with their plan. “Please be safe.” Ieyasu cupped her face, kissing her forehead tenderly. “I do not know what I would do if anything were to happen to you.” “The same goes to you also, my darling.” with a sweet gaze shared, Ieyasu helped Y/N mount the horse and watched her gallop away into the horizon.

Though, as Y/N was away, Ieyasu already had to run away into war, as the damned monks attacked his lands. By the time the Princess had arrived in Azuchi, it was Mitsuhide who greeted her, though the usual teasing, enigmatic grin ever-present was replaced with a grim look. “Though it is always a pleasure seeing you, Princess, I can guess why you have arrived.” he spoke, helping her get off the horse and reading the letter. “I wish I had better knew to counter this betrayal, My Lady, though unfortunately, I must be the bearer of the grave news. Ieyasu might be walking right into Kennyo’s trap.” he put a comforting hand on the Princess’s shoulder. “Hideyoshi and Masamune found and defeated Takeda Katsuyori, and in his possession, there was a letter addressed to your brother. I am deeply sorry to inform you that your brother is conspiring with not only the Uesugi-Takeda alliance, but with Kenny’s monks too.” “I should have expected that. I and father never did trust my brother, he always had an inferiority complex when it came to me. I have always been a prodigy while he, well... Save for the physical prowess of a man, there was much he was lacking. I also suspect him of poisoning our father, to take over the family. That is why... I placed a trap at home, before I left. And, as I expected, he took the bait.” Y/N spoke thoughtfully. “Mitsuhide, we have to save Ieyasu. I wish I could rally my troops, but my brother has them. What is there to do?” “I will tell you where Ieyasu is fighting - Go ahead and reassure him that help is on the way. Mitsunari went on a trail to catch Kennyo; Masamune and Hideyoshi are on their way too. That leaves Nobunaga with your brother, fighting Kenshin, and myself.” Mitsuhide explained the situation, watching the woman before him nod curtly. “Alright. You have to find Nobunaga and tell him of my brother’s betrayal. Perhaps we can all gather at a common point. I don’t want my father’s hard work to go down the drain because of Kenji’s frail ego.” she explained her view. “That was exactly my thought also, Princess. Be on your way, and be safe.” with a nod of acknowledgement, Y/N swiftly left Azuchi towards the valley Mitsuhide described.

Truthful to his words, Mitsuhide was right, and Ieyasu was there, fighting against the berserk monks. Y/N rose her musket and started shooting away at the approaching enemies, and once she got close enough, she used the rifle to hit away at the monks’ head, incapacitating them. She jumped off the horse and readied her weapons, getting back to back with her husband, but not before pulling him into a desperate kiss. “Help is on the way, my love. Hang in there.” “I’m not even sure if I’m reassured seeing you, or if I’m terrified out of my mind.” the Princess chuckled softly. “I bring good news, so feel lighter. Mitsuhide reassured me all the other lords will be meeting up shortly at the camp. They killed Katsuyori, and they’re on Kenshin’s and Kennyo’s trail.” Ieyasu found himself scoffing. “It has barely been a week, and so many things happened. I’ve been out of the loop for far too long.” Ieyasu complained lightly. “That is why I am here, am I not?” the woman smirked. 

Ieyasu had to admit, he was highly impressed by his wife’s war proficiency, though he should have known better, as she mentioned having trained side by side her brother, and he himself helped her get better at archery, whilst Mitsuhide taught her how to shoot a musket. He truly was lucky, having met and married such a wonderful woman, quite literally always there for him, no matter the hardship or the auspicious day. 

Thankfully, they were able to escape the trap unscathed, and Ieyasu’s troops were mostly intact; Y/N helped her husband up on her horse and they ran away to the camp, not before shouting the instructions to the rest of the army so they would follow right behind.

“Ieyasu, you are well. That is good.” Nobunaga remarked, as Ieyasu and Y/N were the last to arrive. “We have all arrived here, safe and sound, and our missions have been a success.” “It is good that we have such a reliable Princess to keep our little Ieyasu safe.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but tease the Young Lord, who was unable to complain, as it was Mitsuhide himself who made sure Y/N was safe and knew how to come over to him. As the Lords all invited Y/N and Ieyasu to get over to them and drink some tea, rest and eat some food after such a long time, Kenji frowned, getting up and marching in front of Y/N, before slapping her face hard enough to make her stumble. The gesture garnered gasps and protests from every witnessed, yet it was Ieyasu himself who took out his sword automatically and threatened his brother-in-law. “Our parents never once scolded, punished, and especially rose their hand to hit me. What gave you the right to do something like this, especially considering that I am a married woman and not under your authority?” Y/N tilted her head up with unbothered grace, her hand placed on Ieyasu’s sword, inching it away from her brother’s neck. “Whether you are married or not, it matters little. You are first and foremost the Princess of the Niwa Clan, and only then, Tokugawa’s whore, so behave appropriately, like a woman should, and stop bringing shame and dishonour everywhere you step. Our parents might have indulged you, but I am not weak like them.” his words only made the Princess, but Nobunaga and some of the other lords burst laughing. “Well, certainly, forgive me for wanting to save my husband; I’m not ready to be a widow yet. And, I suppose I should say, at least for the sake of this pointless argument, that not only do I have my Lord Husband’s approval, to do all the things that you accuse me of, but Lord Nobunaga, also, seeks my council on occasion... Which... As far as I know... Does not happen for you as well. I wonder why.” Y/N’s whole body moved with another slap from her brother.  “Did you want to save him, like you tried to save our sister?” it was the first time Ieyasu saw Y/N’s calm demeanour disappear, only to be replaced with a deathly glare. “Like you tried to save our mother? Our father?” he continued to slander her. “You claim to try and save them, but you killed them all, didn’t you? You are a demon disguised as a woman, that is what you are.” “Do you think I don’t know that it was you who killed our father, hoping to inherit the Niwa clan, based on the succession line?” it was Kenji’s turn to stiffen. “It must have been such a great shock for you, finding out father’s will, and seeing that, instead of Niwa Kenji being written as the Heir... It was Y/N-hime.” the brother, with wrath in his eyes, attempted to lunge at the girl, but she did a short-distance sprint, tripping him, and allowing Kenji to be punched by her husband. “Based on your aggressive behaviour, it must be the truth. You knew, once I find the will, I will be named the Heir of Niwa, and our house will automatically merge with Ieyasu’s... And you? You will be nothing but a little lordling, fated to be called forever a fool - You, Niwa Kenji, the firstborn and the sole male child... Failing so hard at being a reliable ruler, that your father made your younger sister, the middle child, the heir, trusting her with not only the finances, but the army also. How hilarious is that?” Y/N laughed tauntingly at her elder brother, who was struggling hard to get away from Ieyasu’s grip, especially as Hideyoshi and Masamune too jumped to keep him restrained. “And as the appointed heir of the Niwa clan, with Nobunaga’s approval, as well as my husband’s, I would like to decree that I advise my elder brother, Niwa Kenji, to commit seppuku in front all the Lords, and if he should refuse, then I should be allowed to bring forth his demise myself.” “Motion approved.” Nobunaga smirked at the gutsy, domineering woman before him, watching his lords bring Kenji to his knees.  “You cannot do that! Women aren’t allowed to own any property - You’re going to let that pesky child take over all our possessions and province! He’s going to ruin everything -- YOU are going to bring ruin to the whole Niwa family, you demon!” his whining was abruptly halted by Nobunaga’s dark voice. “That rule is going to change soon, once I reform the Shogunate. Y/N was enough of an exemplary ideal and a role model.” Nobunaga was well over himself with amusement, loving to undermine arrogant pricks like Y/N’s brother. “Then, brother, you have the choice to either commit ritualistic suicide, or to die by my blade. Which would you rather prefer? See - I am a benevolent ruler, I am even allowing a traitor like yourself to choose how you want to die, it is quite the privilege, considering not only you killed our father, conspired to kill me and my husband, but also, made deals with Takeda, Uesugi and Kennyo, hoping to soon revolt against the Oda forces.” the dumb look on his face only made Y/N laugh. “See? Your head is empty. There is no ounce of intelligence there. If father chose you as the heir, only ruin would have befallen our lineage. It was so simple, you know? Just choose the winning side and continue living like a parasite, leeching over the success of better men. It is your fault alone.” Y/N grinned enigmatically, going to her husband and drawing his sword. “I have changed my mind. I will not give you the satisfaction of taking your own life. I want to do it myself. Do you know why?” the woman stepped in front of him; Ieyasu felt his heart beating so fast, watching his wife acting less like a the sweet Fawn Princess that she always tried so hard to be, always tender and soft, comforting and loving him constantly; and more like Amaterasu herself, banishing Susano’o from Heavens. “Because we have lived in the same house and studied together for twenty years, and you were unable to realise that the will was written by me, not by father.” “What?!” Kenji tried to jolt up to his feet, but was unable to. “You forged our father’s will?!” “Of course I did, who do you take me for? I’ve long since suspected you of trying to rebel. I couldn’t have you tarnish our family name; Our ancestors worked hard enough, getting us where they are. I tested you, and you failed.” Y/N chuckled softly. “Our father always thought you were the family’s greatest disappointment... And, coincidentally, I tend to agree.”

Y/N didn’t allow Kenji enough time to open her mouth, as she swung the blade, and his head went rolling on the ground pathetically. The Princess went to grab the head by the hair and impaled it on a spike, in all its glory. Then, she went by Nobunaga’s side, looking down at him with a confident smirk. “Are you going to call me Lord Niwa from now on, I wonder?” “You have earned the title, I see no reason not to.” Y/N bowed her head at the ruler. “Then, officially, I suppose I have to pledge my allegiance to the Oda forces. It goes without saying, for as long as I live, the Niwa family is going to continue supporting your cause with no exception. Is that good?” Nobunaga let out a short yet boastful laugh. “By all means, I feel far more reassured with you as the leader, as compared to that incompetent.” exhausted and in need of some proper rest, Ieyasu and Y/N were the first to leave the camp, yet instead of going to Mikawa, they went to her castle.

“You once said your younger sister’s daughter was being raised by your parents. Now that they are no more, and the war is done, a young girl like herself cannot be left alone, can she? She needs a proper education and people to look after her.” Ieyasu brought his sweetheart into a loving, tender kiss, playing with a lock of her hair.  “Are you sure, my love? A child is a lot of hard responsibility and involvement, and--” her worries were quickly hushed with another kiss. “I know what I’m saying. Besides, at least people will stop pestering us about having children ourselves.” Y/N couldn’t help but start laughing at his comment.

And though nervous, Ieyasu never once regretted the decision of fostering the young girl, caring for her as his own child. Be it that he was teaching her how to read and write, or that Y/N was telling her about politics, history or medicine, the little girl was the brightest star in the sky for them. 

The most beautiful image, however, was watching the little Fawn Princess playing with his dear Wasabi; two beautiful little girls, innocent and tender, in a world that was bound to change in their favour. No more wars, no more conflicts, no more killings; Only samurai were allowed to have weapons, and fighting was soon proven to become entirely inefficient, and external trade was being promoted, studying history and medicine, politics, arts and poems and novels. There was no need for lovely women like Princess Y/N to shoulder the responsibilities of war and grief any longer, and no children had to watch their parents fall under the blade any longer. Ieyasu especially wanted to create and maintain the beautiful utopia of peace that Nobunaga started, all for the safety and happiness of his three beloved girls.

Wasabi, his adorable deer, Y/N, his most beloved wife, and the little Fawn Princess, his darling daughter.

Tokugawa Ieyasu never thought about women, and never gave any importance to marriage; everything except for his academic and military training was nothing was a troublesome drag, and he couldn’t care less about any such inconvenience - But Y/N proved him wrong. Y/N proved to him that he was not only capable of accepting love, but giving also - And oh, how he loved falling asleep to the image of a sleepy Y/N, and waking up to a sweet kiss from her.

[the-wisteria-maiden]

rp starter

it was hours since maki and katarou died. katarou was trying to calm his vengfull sister why sobbed in anger. the tears getting on her black kimono. she screamed "WHY WOULD HE DO THAT. I THOUGHT HE LOVED US!!!" katarou replied "he does! it was probably an accident!

(rp starter for @spookyowlman )

[stargazingfordreams]

The Star that missed The Sun

Nyx x Reader

Warning- arrange marriage, cute stuff.

A/N-Hello everyone, I have had this idea stuck in my head ever since I read something on here that gave me this idea, and it hasn't left me alone since then, so I finally just put it in writing, tell me if you guys want a part to cause after I wrote this I just started to get this whole story line going.

Word count- 2.3k

​​The pulling and tugging of my hair, my face, and my body as various different hand maidans helped me get ready for my wedding. Though it wasn't meant to be mine. After my sister passed, we had no way to bridge the day court and the night court.

Our fathers had long since been friends but wanted to secure our futures from the unknown threats that may be on the horizon. One maiden had pulled my curls just a little too hard.

"Okay, okay, that is enough. I think I need a moment," I said to them, but they looked at each other for a moment. "Please go, all of you," I said, my voice a little more firm this time. When everyone had left, I took deep breaths to slow my pounding heart. The door opened again.

"Please, I just need a moment," I said

"I just wanted to see you once more before You walk down the aisle" I turned to the voice from the door.

"Father," High lord Heilon stood proud in my dressing room. I ran into his arms.

"Are you okay, my little sunspot?" he chuckled into my curly hair. I sniffled

"Yes, of course, it's just my wedding day, you know," my voice wavered.

"And you're scared?" he asked me. I could never hide anything from him.

"Father, the night court, I have heard…rumors about their cruelty" I pulled myself from his arms.

"Do you think I would ever let you be put in harm's way" he held such a soft tone.

"No, of course not. However, I have never met him, and after today I will have to spend the rest of my life with him, and I was not his first choice" I moved from my father's arms. He sighed, and we both moved to sit on the ottoman in my bridal sweet.

"You know I didn't know much about your mother when we married."

"And look at what happened." I held my breath, not meaning for that to come out as it did.

"I have three beautiful daughters," he told me lightly.

"She left to go explore the world and be on her own and stuck you with the three of us," I said

"And raising you girls was the best thing I have done."

"Even me? Your most troubled" I let out a soft chuckle as a tear passed my face. He whipped it gently with a smile as bright as the sun.

"Essentially you, my little sunspot."

There was a knock at the door, and a handmaiden entered.

"My lady, everyone is ready" I looked up at my father like a fawn, but I nodded. My father offered me his arm, and I took it, giving him my best smile.

We walked down the hall to the big doors, and they opened themselves slowly, revealing white Wisteria hanging from the trees that were in the garden; white linen lined the seating, and white petals fell as I walked down the aisle, watching familiar and some not so familiar faces smiling and A priestess with red hair and teal eyes waiting at the end with my future husband.

I reached the end, and it was time for my father to let me go, but I wasn't ready yet. He Gave me a weak smile, a tear brimming in his eye. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I love you, Papa," I whispered in his ear.

"I love you too, Sunspot," He said back. I was sure that those tears had escaped. When I pulled away. He gave me a smile and helped me up to the altar. There was a hand stretched out to me. I looked up and was caught in his blue eyes before I remembered to take his hand. The priestess began the ceremony, and I looked at his chin to look like I was looking at him. I could not afford to get lost in his eyes again, but I felt them on me, and with his smile, I dared to look at them. I saw nothing but admiration. The priestess had said my name.

"I'm sorry, what?" I said to her as I came back to my senses. I heard small chuckles come from the crowd. My cheeks heated with embarrassment. She repeated herself, and it was our turn to repeat her.

"By Sun, Moon, and stars in front of all of these witnesses and the mother herself, I take you to be my Husband" the priestess had wrapped a rope around my forearm around my hand.

"By Sun, Moon, and stars in front of all of these witnesses and the mother herself, I take you to be my wife," Nyx had said back to me.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

The kiss was our first one. He leaned in and placed the most tender of kisses on my lips. It wasn't a kiss you would exchange with someone you didn't know. He kissed me like he didn't want to overwhelm me but also like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. He kissed me like I was a dream that had been answered. When He pulled away, I was still in a daze, so much so that I almost missed the sound of clapping and cheering. He only smiled and offered me his arms. I took it, and we walked back down the aisle. The flower petals that flowed down this time were. A combination of our colors that signify the unification of our courts.

The reception was lively from both courts, everyone dancing and drinking like they have been doing this for centuries, and they probably have. I was so much younger than everyone here. I felt so out of place. I know that Nyx wanted to be there and join his friends and family in the celebration, but he stayed next to me. I silently hoped that this wouldn't be the basis of our marriage. Me holding him back, or him feeling obligated to stay with me not because he wanted to but because it was his duty.

"You should join them if you would like," I told him. I believe this was the first thing I had said to him, at least outside my vows.

"Do you dance, My lady?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Not if you value the ability to use your feet" The remark slipped out. Though I thought he wouldn't like the sass, would we have our inside joke laugh about nothing, tease and poke fun at one another? Instead, Nyx laughed something so relaxedly.

"I think my feet can handle the bruising" he stood and held out his hand, and I took it. Then, as if he could read my anxious thoughts, he put his arm around my waist and led me to the middle of the dance floor. Held one hand and put the other on my back. The first step was just a little off.

"Ooof, I'm sorry; maybe this was a bad idea," I said, getting ready to pull away, but he grounded me in place.

"Don't worry, it's okay, just relax, let me lead, just follow," he said. This time I let go and let him lead me to the sound of the music. This was the first time I had the courage honestly look at him. His black leather wings were strong enough to carry him in the air, his broad shoulders the way he towered over me, and his devastatingly good looks. He was the most beautiful male I had ever seen.

My dancing could have been better, it wasn't perfect, not by any standard, but I was doing it. I was so focused on Nyx and dancing with him to the best of my ability that I hadn't seen the people who cleared the dance floor to honor this being the first time we danced together. I was so excited at the dance I stepped forward and stepped on his toes. No one noticed, though. Instead, he smiled down at me.

"I see what you mean," he whispered in my ear. Then, he pulled away to spin me slowly and carried me through the rest of the dance…

The night began to whine down, and people began to leave. Fear crept into the pit of my stomach. It was our wedding night, and things would be expected of us. This wouldn't be my first time, but something about being married to him makes this feel so much more important.

"Are we leaving right now, my lord?" I asked him.

"Yes, we are, and if you would like, you can address me by my name."

"Right, I'm sorry, Nyx" I paused for a moment before I continued. "You may also address me by mine unless you prefer to call me My lady."

"Cauldron, no, it would be the waist of a beautiful name."

We said our goodbyes. I hugged my father goodbye. He looked to the corner where my half-brother stood with a longing look of regret while he and his mate chatted. I watched the whole night as my father and brother avoided each other, but it's always been this way since I was born, the two of them never being able to be around each other before harsh words are exchanged. I hope that with my new position in the court, he frequents, we can finally have a relationship and maybe extend it to our father. After my father left, he made his way over.

"Hello dear, You look stunning. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Elaine Nyx's aunt" She embarrassed me with a hug. Stepping away to take a good look at me.

"Sister," Lucien gave me a nod.

"Brother, it's good to see you."

"I suppose congratulations are in order, sister; looks like I have to share the night court with you as well," he said sarcastically with a hint of disdain on his face before giving a quick smile and hurrying along with Elaine. I looked over to Nyx. His eyes are studying me with concern. But I waved it off and continued to say goodbye to our guests.

"Are you ready to go?" Nyx turned to me. I took his hand, and we winnowed into the foyer of his home. I looked around at the cozy setting around us. We landed in a sitting room with a black marble fireplace and worn comfortable chairs with bookshelves built into every wall. I felt the urge to explore it.

"This is my family's townhouse where we will be living, at least for now," he said. I felt calm anxiety wash over me. He led me up the broad oak stairs and approached an ivory door. When we entered the room, it faced a garden in the back of the house that, in the center, had a fountain. The room was white gold and ivory. It looked like Day court, from the gold fabric that lined the soft pillows on my bed and the lounge chair to the ivory comforts and blanket vines hung from the canopy above the bed. It looked like home.

"I had it designed after your court. If you don't like it, feel free to change it," he said

"This is my room?" I asked to take a step into the room.

"Yes, of course, my room is right across the hall in case you need anything." he stepped away. I followed him into his room. The ceiling was the night sky painted with black satin sheets and dark oak wood furniture. He turned to me, looking slightly confused.

"Would you like a drink?" he walked to the corner of his room where he had a small bar cart next to a desk full of papers.

"Yes, a double, please," I said to him as he poured the two glasses giving me the one with the most alcohol. I took the whole shot in one big gulp, scrunching my face, and the burning whisky went down my throat. He chuckled

"Well, I can say that I am impressed," he said as he chuckled. I smiled weakly as I set the glass down. Raising my trembling hands to undo my dress. He approached me, closing his hands around mine, stopping me from undoing my dress.

"I'm sorry. Did you want to do this part?" I asked him though my voice didn't sound as confident as I wanted it to.

"I wasn't expecting us to… we don't have to do this, you know, not if you don't want to" he looked at me more worried than anything.

"But we are husband and wife."

"And you are also trembling" I looked down at his hands still closed around mine.

"Am I not… Do I not appeal to you? I understand if I don't, my father he sometimes-"

"No, No, I enjoy females trust me" he chuckled at my confession, which made my cheek heat.

"Oh," I looked down ashamed, thinking it must be me.

"It's not you either. I would never share your bed against your will."

"But other people will think-"

"I won't take you to bed…not unless you ask for me" He paused before he said the last part smiling at me.

"Thank you" There are many good males, but there are just as many that aren't, and Nyx was a good one. Do you think I would ever let you be put in harm's way? I understood now that my father trusted High lord Rhysand and his family more than I thought. He knew that I would never be in harm's way here.

"I think maybe tomorrow we can get to know each other better. Would you like to join me for breakfast in the morning?" he asked.

"That would be lovely."

"I should get some sleep. I have a long day ahead of me" I gave a slight nod,

"Goodnight, Nyx"

"Goodnight, starshine" I headed to my room and looked around again at my new surroundings.

My room

My home

My Court.

[roosterbruiser]

Happy 200 followers! For the celebration, would you write a Regency au blurb with Hangman?

𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

The Seresin family, as prestigious and admired as they so were in your village, had seen you walking about the cobblestone path outside their residence on more than one occasion.

From all appearances, you were a lady: your dresses were appropriately hemmed, your hair was pinned most elegantly, your never left your dwelling without an umbrella on sunny days, and you carried an air about yourself that gave the distinct notion that you were well-bred. Never were you slouching or frowning--you walked with grace, gliding through the spring days with the hint of a smile on your lips, a pinkness tickling your cheeks.

Perhaps what the family admired most was that you were polite even in your snooping. You couldn't help pausing beside their garden: it was most enchanting, so much so that your manners were momentarily forgotten just to lean in and press your nose against the silky petals. You had an affinity for flowers and their yard had an abundance: periwinkle cosmos, white gardenia, umber marigolds, mauve anemones, and the most refine wisteria that climbed their garden walls.

It had become more or less habitual for you to take your strolls down the cobblestone patch, angling your lace umbrella above you to spare your skin from the yellow sun.

It was the youngest son, Jacob, that last noticed you.

Standing by the window in the library, he found his eyes drawn to your figure looming by the sprawling flowers of their garden. You had not breached the gate--goodness no, you were a lady after all--but you did bend your hips most delicately to inhale the flowers.

"Father--who is the strange girl indulging in our garden?" Jacob had asked his father, letting his book fall shut unceremoniously as he gazed upon your taffeta figure.

His father, hunched over his desk with his glasses perched at the end of his nose, did not even glance up at Jacob.

"The maiden daughter of the library-keep," Mr. Seresin said absently, continuing his studies. When Jacob glanced over at his father, his collar juggling against his jaw and his eyebrows thoroughly furrowed, his father continued. "She is a regular fixture."

Jacob looked back to you. You had taken off your glove to feel a velvety petal between your fingers. He swallowed hard, gazing upon your most delicate hands.

Jacob couldn't believe he had never noticed you before.

"Has not any member of this family extended an invitation for her to make use of our garden? Lord knows only Mother does," Jacob said, letting the heavy book in his hands fall upon the velvet sofa.

Mr. Seresin finally let his eyes rest upon his son. Right away, he understood his son's intentions: he saw the glimmer in his green eyes as he gazed upon your frame. It was how Mr. Seresin had first gazed upon his wife once. How romantic it was to be gazed upon for the first time in a bountiful garden--he hoped your love would be perfumed just as sweetly as the flowers that bloomed there.

"Perhaps my youngest son would like to extend the invitation himself, if he so sees it as a lack of manners on his family's part."

Mr. Seresin was partly chiding--Jacob was not exactly ill-mannered, but he certainly walked the line.

But Jacob was enamored as he watched you. He wondered what it must be like to be touched by your gloveless hands. He wondered, also, which flowers were your favorite. Just gazing upon your face, lit by the sun and framed in your silky curls, he understood immediately that he would plant an entire garden of whatever they were just to allow you the pleasure standing amidst it. He bit his lip, letting his hands fall on his hips, shaking his head softly.

"Her name, father--what is it?"

Mr. Seresin was bemused by his son's awestruck expression. It wasn't often his son lacked words.

Mr. Seresin said your name after a moment of thought. Jacob's heart stuttered in its careful pace in his chest. He repeated it to himself, rolling his tongue over it again and again, imagining it attached to his last name. And although it was a most beautiful name, one he could imagine uttering on sleepless nights and in the center of a ballroom, he knew what he was going to call you.

"I shall call her Petal," Jacob said softly, watching as you tilted by your hips again to take another sniff of the yellow roses his mother was so very fond of. "Yes, yes. That suits her quite well."

The next day, on your usual stroll, you were nearly startled to death when there was a figure seemingly awaiting your presence on the cobblestone. Already he was turned in your direction--as though he knew which way you came from and which way you went--and there was a peculiar smile adorning his lips.

"Oh--hello, sir."

"Good noon," he said with that most bright smile. "For giving you a fright, I must apologize. It was not my intention nor is my ill will by interrupting your stroll."

You swallowed hard, recovering, straightening your spine and smiling politely at him. He was most handsome--well-kept blonde hair, eyes the color of a flower stem, cheeks set high and happily. He looked to you as if made out of marble; hand-carved and meticulously crafted.

"Nonsense," you said softly, taking a few careful steps towards him. "It is the path outside your dwelling--perhaps it is I that should be apologizing for the frequency at which I happen upon here."

That made him smile; you were good. You were very, very good. Well-mannered and charming. And he thought that you were teasing, for the coy smile on your lips told him so.

"I must admit this meeting is not clandestine," Jacob said, sighing softly.

Your ears were pink, but you continued towards him, keeping your umbrella shading you.

"How do you mean, sir?" You asked, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

He could get used to being this close to you--he could smell the soap you had used before leaving the house, the oil you had rubbed on your exquisite pulse points.

"It is my intention to extend you an invitation," Jacob started softly, looking into your eyes that were swimming with amusement and simply dazzling in the spring sun. "Perhaps you would find it agreeable to accompany me on a tour through our garden."

You were giddy--it was bubbling up inside of you. But you contained it the best you could, nodding softly.

"This tour you speak off--is it favorable by the locals?"

He laughed--it was a beautiful sound, one that vibrated your bones.

"Most favorable."

You pretended to think--he loved the way your eyebrows came together, the way your lips pursed.

"Private, of course--we shall not be pestered with the unruly presence of villagers and others of the same likeness," Jacob continued, as if you weren't entirely sold on the idea already.

You grinned.

"I would find it agreeable to accompany you," you answered.

He extended his arm, stiffening his spine.

"It is most pleasurable for me to escort you," he says as you curl your fingers around his bicep. "You must excuse my ill manners--in all of the excitement between your thrilling presence and stimulating conversation, the thought to formally introduce myself evaded me."

"Your stature is faltering," you teased, tutting.

He loved the way your voice sounded when you teased him. He knew, instantly, that it would be a pleasure to be teased by you for eternity.

"It is in your humble graciousness that we continue this conversation," he tears right back, holding his hand over his heart. "I am endlessly grateful that you deem myself invigorating enough to continue speaking to."

You laughed again as he pushed the garden gate open.

"Already you speak so highly of me," you breathed, overwhelmed with affection as he guided you through the garden gate and politely shut it behind him. "I must say, your charm is endearing."

He stopped in the midst of the path as your gazed all around you, inhaling deeply the sweet scent of flowers. Everything was so much more lush up close, so much more beautiful when not separated by a garden wall.

"Jacob Seresin," he said softly, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a careful kiss against your fingers, slightly bowing.

You grinned, letting your eyes fall to his.

You introduced yourself, too, curtseying appropriately.

But the grin he possessed prompted that curiosity you'd always possessed.

"May I ask what it is that you find so humorous?" You asked as you took his arm again, peering all around the flower petals, trying to discern which was the most beautiful to behold up close.

"Oh it is only that I have decided upon my name for you," he explained, watching the way your eyes lingered on cyan peonies. "Petal."

It made your heart jump to your throat. Petal--a delicate and sweet name, one that aroused a certain softness in your chest. You smiled, glancing at him again.

"Born from your affinity for the garden, of course," he continued.

You nodded, hoping your cheeks weren't too red.

"Suitable," you agreed. "Although I must now attain my very own name for you."

You stared at him and he let you, biting that grin. Damn it to Hell if he was not a sight to behold in and of his own. If you were feeling more cheeky, you would call him Statue--but just the thought of saying that to him made your belly fill with nerves.

"Apologies--names are evading me," you said, blushing.

He sighed softly, content for once in his life.

"I suppose we shall extend our tour until you are able to conjure one, Petal," he said softly, biting his lip. You grinned again, chuckling. "I shall have my afternoon cleared at once."

You glanced up at him again, your heart in your throat.

"As will I, Jacob."

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

[spookyowlman]

katarou: "date?" :3

"Oh hey! Aren't you the guy who wanted to be my partner? You know, you filled out that dating form?"

"Hohoho! I have to say, I like how straightforward you are!"

"Sure! I'll go out with you! How could I refuse, you do look like a fun guy! So, did you have anything in mind?"

[duelistkingdom]

show me distraction even for just one night

Summary: every other week, a witch came into down with her band of travelers. a witch who could tell you who you were going to marry. anzu mazaki has no interest in that, however. she wants something different from the witch. something the witch is more than happy to provide.

Rating: T

Ships: Mai Kujaku/Anzu Mazaki

Author’s note: written for @sapphic-september with the prompt of "esp". both mai and anzu are about 20 something in this fic.

read on ao3 / support me on kofi (battle city & up supporters get early access) / join my discord (18+)

There were whispers of a lady who could tell you who you'd marry, and she blew into town every other week. Every time, the line to her wagon was long and winding with desperate young maidens hoping to hear that they'll marry upwards. Fathers would be waiting on the other end to hear who their daughters would marry, and argue with the psychic if she predicted someone they didn't like. Anzu, however, did not care to know who she'd marry. She didn't care to know what men were hoping to covet her hand. What she wanted to know was if she would ever leave this small town. She dreamed of dances and a chance to show off her talents. She dreamed of a small artist studio with a lofted bed, with sunshine and plants surrounding her. And yet here she was, inside the strange witch's quarters. She looked nothing like Anzu pictured - a pretty blonde with wisteria colored eyes that had a spark in them. Her eyes raked over her, and she leaned forward. Her blonde curls went everywhere - wild and free. "You're not here to learn about who you're going to marry, are you?"

Anzu sank down into the oversized chair made of dark wood, and the thick cushions made her feel more comfortable than she had any right to. A strange smell ensnared her - something she'd never smelled in this tiny town. She could picture the city shop that the fortune teller would've found it in, and Anzu longed to join her there. She'd never thought that she'd picture wanting that with anyone. She'd spent more time wanting to get out that she'd never once considered what it'd be like to want to stay somewhere. The again... it was easy to imagine that kind of future when it was utterly impossible. "No, I'm not," Anzu said, and a haze soothed over her. Something about this place felt like a dream, even if somewhere in her mind she knew it was real. "I'm not.... interested in marriage. My parents want me to but..."

"You're not interested in any of the men they show you," the witch said with a wicked grin. She'd leaned forward, and Anzu couldn't help but glance down at her bosom - the corset she wore was indecent. Wearing something like that here would certainly get someone in trouble. She wanted the freedom that the witch had. "In fact, you find yourself disinterested in all the men in this village. You want to leave here, and nothing ties you here, does it?"

"Yes, I -"

"No, don't speak, hon," she said, and her fingertips lightly grazed along Anzu's neck. Her breath hitched as she leaned into her touch, and the witch's hand now touched her cheek. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and her lips parted. "I can see it. You find yourself staring at women for longer than is proper. You dream of a big city where you can blend into the crowd. Perhaps with some form of art to carry yourself without a man. You'd like to be run off with someone very close to you."

Anzu's eyes widened, and she wanted to deny it. Shame rolled over ever so briefly before that haze came back. Was the witch's face always this close to hers? She could see the gloss of her lips, the light flick of liner across her eyes, and it would haunt her dreams. Anzu's mind immediately drifted into imagining what it would be like if the witch actually closed the gap and gave her the very first kiss of her life. She wondered if it would be like how the books made it seem like kisses were supposed to feel like. She'd never wanted someone to kiss her so bad before. Girls weren't supposed to want this, after all. The witch smiled, and then the haze dissipated. She was standing outside the wagon, and before she knew it, the psychic had left. The smell of her perfume lingered, and Anzu was desperate to see her again. She turned to a maiden who had still been waiting and asked, "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Didn't she already read you?"

She shook her head, and lied, "She said she needed multiple sessions with me. Said something about how it wasn't clear."

"That can happen?" The maiden's eyes widened, and Anzu knew she was thinking of the horror of not knowing who she'd marry. "Well um. She should be back in a month's time from what the rest of the travelers with her said. But sometimes she comes back sooner. I hope she'll have something for you next time!"

In the month lead up to the fortune teller's return, rumors spread quickly of Anzu's failure to be told the name of her future husband. Wives who found bliss because of the witch would whisper as she walked past, and fellow maidens would offer their condolences about her not finding a husband. None of them knew that at night, Anzu found herself dreaming of the witch's touch upon her skin. Her perfume became a memory, something she desperately clung to. She needed to see her again.

The fortune teller blew into town with the gusto of a storm's tempest, and Anzu was granted the ability to go first by the other maidens who felt sorry for her. They smiled and wished her luck on obtaining her husband, and Anzu didn't have the heart to tell them that she'd never have a husband. "You lied," the witch said, not even bothering to face her. There was no sign of a window she could have peered out of to see what had happened or who came next. The familiar haze was settling in. "You know I have a reputation to keep up, don't you?"

Her lips were a deep cherry red and slick - a tempting promise of pleasure in them. All her inhibitions were lowered, and she moved forward to kiss the witch like she'd been dreaming of - her very first kiss. The only frame of reference she had were stories that claimed this happened between a man and a woman, and how it was supposed to feel just like it felt now. Inexplicable, and perfect. The witch's hands were on her hips, and Anzu gasped as she pinned her to the wall. "I have a prediction of my own," Anzu finally gasped as her hands tangled into the fortune teller's wild curls. "You're going to take me far away from this little village, and I'm going to become your apprentice. Am I right?"

"You're going to tell your parents that I couldn't see a man in your future because you have the sight," the witch said with a light smirk as she pulled away. "You are instead going to learn to be a priestess at my behest. Tell them I entrusted you with my name, Mai Kujaku." She handed Anzu a wet rag. "Clean yourself up, and come back in an hour. We'll leave to the city then."

Anzu nodded, cleaning herself up. "I'll go pack a bag," she said with a soft smile. The perfume now lingered across her collarbone - as if she was marked even without the lipstick. "I'll be back."