#turned into a wannabe king by his own brother

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleon is a coward

At least as far as private matters are concerned. I always had suspected as much, considering how awkward he acted around Josephine until he finally told her he wanted to get rid of her. But the way he treated his brother is just shameful.

Napoleon to Berthier, Paris, 8 February 1810

My cousin, you will forward the enclosed decree through an officer to the King of Spain and to Marshal Soult, to whom he will deliver your letter. My intention is that all orders be given in accordance with this decree. I can no longer cope with the enormous expenses of my army in Spain. I want the administration of the conquered countries to be in the hands of the generals who command the provinces, so that all the resources are applied to the expenses of the army. [...]

The decree in question, imposed for financial reasons, basically stripped Joseph of his authority as king. As far as I get to understand from the letters DuCasse cites, at least some provinces were declared to be »under siege« as a whole, which basically put them under martial law and handed over all government functions to whatever marshal or general was in charge. However, it seems Napoleon did not even tell Joseph to what extent his authority had been annulled:

Berthier to Suchet, Rambouillet, 22 February 1810:

[...] The intention of the Emperor is that Aragon, which is put in a state of siege, should have the least possible communication with Madrid [i.e., with Joseph]. The fact that the province is under siege gives you full authority, and you must use all its resources to pay, clothe and feed your army. If, at last, the King were to give you orders, as General-in-Chief of the armies of Spain, with regard to the administrative part, only then must you make it clear that Aragon, being in a state of siege, forms a separate army receiving orders only from the Emperor. You sense well enough, Monsieur le Comte, that you should only make these dispositions known in the case of absolute necessity. His Majesty relies on you for the prudence which such a position requires, and he counts on your devotion to his person, and on your attachment to the French Empire. You feel that some parts of Aragon might be necessary for the new limits of France. This letter, Monsieur le Comte, is between you and me only.

[Emphasis by me]

Translation: Joseph no longer holds any authority in Spain – but try to not let him notice, so that he can have fun playing king some more. And be prepared that we at some point may just grab some territories away from under Joseph’s ass. Surely you fully understand how this is necessary, right? So – hush!

This is incredibly ugly, and it makes look Napoleon, and in extension Berthier (as he seems to have no problems with this duplicity), not look good. From now on Joseph would often be left completely in the dark, not even being told about the orders that Napoleon and Berthier gave directly to the marshals and generals governing the Spanish provinces. Which then resulted in a direct confrontation with those military gouvernors, in particular with the one who, technically, was Joseph’s chief-of-staff and thus was supposed to also be loyal to him:

Joseph to Berthier, Madrid, 25 August 1810

[...] The Marshal Duke of Dalmatia believes he can give orders below the Sierra-Morena which must be carried out exclusively to all others, these are his expressions. [...] If the orders from Sevilla can deprive me of the troops around Madrid, I am not sure that one of these mornings, when I wake up, I will not find myself a prisoner of the armed bands of Estramadura, Valencia or Siguenza.

And there again, like after the battle of Ocaña, we have the fear that Joseph’s own person might be in actual danger.

This cannot be the Emperor's intention: it is essential that his justice should express his will in a clear and strong manner.

It did, in a way, by moving the whole of the army administration to Sevilla and placing it under the command of Soult – who, independently from Joseph, also had complained to Berthier that the current situation, with everybody torn between the official authority of the king and the actual authority of the marshals, was unbearable. Joseph continues:

As for myself, I am ready for all the sacrifices compatible with my honour; but I cannot see myself treated in this way by Marshal Soult, who is no longer recognisable to me since the arrival in Seville of one of your officers who, according to what he told my royal commissioners, brings him the direct orders and instructions of the Emperor.

[Emphasis by me]

There we have it. Orders are given to the marshals and generals, Joseph is left in the dark about them, and then complains when these marshals and generals follow the orders they received. It’s as if Napoleon deliberately wanted to put Joseph in the most humiliating position, and as if he deliberately wanted to ruin any chance for Joseph’s kingdom of Spain to succeed by sowing as much tension and discontent as possible.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Iceberg Siren pt 7

**here we go! Final chapter! I hope y'all enjoy!**

Jason stumbled, trying his hardest to get to the middle of the fight. The newest Teen Titans member, Phantom, was gallantly holding a glowing green shield to cover Batman while Darkseid attacked them all, and he desperately needed to get to Bruce and pull him away.

When he got home to Danny, he would ask the man to marry him immediately. They had only been dating a year, but Jason was sure of his feelings for the other man.

If he was being honest, he didn’t expect to get home, not if he truly wanted a home to return to.

Robin ran forwards, wielding his katana, and both Jason and Phantom watched in terror as he was swatted away by the ruler of Apokolips like a gnat.

Phantom’s shield dropped and she dove to catch Robin, cushioning his fall. Robin had told him about her- how she latched on to the entire team with both hands, protected them with everything she had. It was sweet to see it, even with the heartbreaking reality that her efforts might be in vain this last time.

With dawning horror, Jason noted that his little brother was struggling to breathe after the hit.

And then Phantom screamed.

“Ď̸͔̮̯͖̞̎͝A̵̩̱͙͓̳͉̲͓͗̍͗̆̉̆̓̒̋͝N̷̡͍̣̜͇̼̬͆̆͘͘N̶̦̦͆͐͗Ỵ̸̞̤͙͙͓̈́̍̎̕”

Her scream created a shockwave, and Jason threw up his arm to shield his face from the force of it, his helmet long destroyed in the fight. A bright flash of light appeared above Phantom, and suddenly there was a tall man in black with floating white hair hovering above her.

The man looked around, taking in the situation, and then lit up green when his eyes landed on Darkseid.

The wannabe god was staring at the man, in shock or rage Jason couldn’t tell.

“Prince Uxas of Apokolips.”

The strange man’s whisper carried across the battlefield, and it sent shivers down Jason’s spine. The voice was altogether familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and he hated it.

The man floated down to stand in front of Phantom and Robin, coincidentally in front of Batman as well. Jason couldn’t see his face anymore.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

Darkseid slammed the end of his weapon into the ground, obviously intent on fighting the newcomer.

“I’m here as is my right, interloper! What horrors have I not committed in the search for Anti-life? What authority have you to stop me?”

“You. Made. My. Daughter. Cry.”

The ice and danger in the man’s voice made Jason cast a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that he would at least die quickly. Darkseid was powerful, but the newcomer clearly wasn’t afraid. Something told Jason that this man could end everyone on the battlefield with a flick of his finger and not worry about any life except Phantom’s.

Without warning, the man in black grew, humanoid form warping and shifting until he had too many limbs and too many eyes, an avenging angel of biblical proportion in the midst of the ruins of Metropolis. A crown of green flames appeared on the creature’s head, casting dancing shadows that reached out and snatched the invading force one by one, dragging them into the darkness.

“My authority is that of the King of the Infinite Realms, and I am Justice. You have been deemed unworthy based on your actions in this world and those beyond. I sentence you, Uxas of Apokolips, self-styled as Darkseid, to eternal suffering in the stockades of the dead.”

A great flaming sword appeared and the creature wielded it, swinging down on Darkseid. As soon as it connected with the alien, he and all of his remaining army vanished into nothingness.

The creature turned, folding in on itself as it made it’s way to Phantom. Jason forced his legs to move, to get to the three heroes closest to the stranger. They were down, he had to protect them, he had to-

“He’ll be alright, Phantom.”

“But- he- he got hit and he can’t breathe and-”

The being placed a gentle hand on Phantom’s dark hair, kneeling down to her level.

“It isn’t his time, Phantom. You’re holding him too tight. Let yourself rest, and everyone will recover.”

“I- I couldn’t stop him.”

Shaking it’s head, the being cupped her cheek.

“No one expected you to.”

As Jason got closer, the strange tingle of familiarity sparked more and more. The being’s unruly hair, calm voice, and constellations of freckles were achingly familiar.

Then they looked up at him as he stumbled over a rock, and he fell to his knees at the eyes that met his.

“Danny?”

Danny Nightingale smiled sheepishly at him, all teeth and inverted colors.

“Hey, Red. I’ll explain- later. We’ve got cleanup to do.”

~~~

Once the cleanup was done- all the heroes in cots in the Watchtower medbay, Danny left the room to detransform, leaving Dani and Jason to watch over their injured teammates. Once he was human again, he noticed his hands were shaking.

What would Jason do now? Now that he knew Danny was more powerful than he’d let on? Would he end their relationship? Would he be mad at Danny for lying?

He hadn’t intended on ever letting his boyfriend know- he’d hidden his extended powers fairly well, but when he heard Dani scream for him he had to go to her, consequences be damned. She was his daughter, the only person he really had left from home.

When he returned to the medbay, he made a beeline to Dani, sitting slumped over by Robin’s bedside. She had pulled all of the Teen Titans’ beds close, and was keeping an eye on all of them. Jason was there too, sitting beside Batman, but Danny had to check his clone over first.

“Phantom. Injuries?”

“Negative, Phantom. Just tired.”

He ran a hand through her hair, let down from its usual ponytail.

“You’ve done well today- get some rest, okay?”

She mumbled her assent and then crawled into the cot next to Robin. Cute.

Danny turned to Jason next, who was watching Batman’s chest rise and fall.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason’s head shot up.

“For what? You saved all our asses out there, Cricket.”

The pet name soothed some of Danny’s worries.

“Lying? I mean…” he gestured down at himself and Dani. “This whole thing is a pretty big lie of omission.”

His boyfriend chuckled wryly, holding out a hand. Danny took it without thinking.

“You- I have to ask about the daughter thing later, but- you know I understand keeping secrets, right? I’m a not-dead vigilante.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Danny took the chair Dani had vacated, scooting it close enough to Jason to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, fingers intertwining.

“How did you know? To come help, that is.”

Danny frowned a little, glad Jason couldn’t see his face.

“Phantom. She- she called for me. I didn’t even know she was here, but I heard her. I would have ripped a hole in the fabric of reality to save her.”

Jason shifted a little under him.

“She’s that important to you?”

“Phantom is the last person I have left from home.”

“Oh.”

Danny let the silence wash over him and tried to keep his nerves under wraps.

Dani could be the breaking point between him and Jason, and he didn’t know if he could handle that.

“Hey Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I thought about this during the battle, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it sincerely and truly. I thought if I made it out alive, I’d ask you- will you marry me?”

Danny sat up again, eyes wide as he took in Jason’s face. It was his sincere face, the one he only made when he meant something sappy.

“There’s a ring in a secret compartment at my apartment- I don’t exactly carry it with me to high-stakes missions, but- I want this.”

Feeling tears well up in his eyes, Danny brought the hand that wasn’t holding Jason’s up to wipe a bit of soot off his fiance’s face.

“Me too. I want it too.”

They shared a chaste kiss, surrounded by the unconscious forms of the Justice League, as Dani’s snoring filled the medbay.

~~~

“Oh crap.”

Jason looked up from the report he was writing for an unamused Bruce to where his fiance was doing the same.

“Something wrong?”

Danny looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I forgot to feed Yinsen’s cat before I left!”

[willkatfanfromasia]

It's gonna be a long one y'all

A Matter of Chance -13

The birds cooed their customary morning calls, waking the forest inhabitants save the two who never slept

Nandini’s head buzzed with worried, hopes and ideas for tackling her situation.

Aditha’s head buzzed for a completely different reason

Nandini hadn’t yet given him an answer.

She’d retreated into her own world after listening to him and he was terrified.

He’d not given her much to go on except his affections. The thought of catty palace women who donned the finest, brightest clothing but had the ability to sting and bite as any predator sent her running he guessed.

Heavens, she probably still saw him as a delusional teenager who hoped for the impossible.

‘Tis true he turns into a lovesick lad when she’s mentioned – but that doesn’t mean the intervening years hadn’t affected him.

Years in the battlefield made him a cynical, weary old man before he could complete his 30th summer.

He had no patience to tolerate rose eyed young ladies far removed from reality. Nor was he willing to suffer scheming wannabe princesses who sought titles, jewels and more for their clan.

No fault of these ladies, he thought, not all young women can advance themselves without marriage.

War made him realise that life was fleeting and ideals of peace, love must be preserved no matter the cost.

And he wasn’t willing to let go of the only one who held his heart.

These philosophical musings were just an attempt to prevent his spiral into worrying about her lack of response.

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

Nandini decided this was it. Krishna had not tested her with so much heartbreak since childhood for nothing. Afterall, why hadn’t these experiences broken her fully? Why did hope remain in her heart?

She’d decided that she wants to remain by Aditha’s side. He’d promised to protect her and she had nothing to lose. She feared her piety turning into a curtain for misery, more than dreading any royal dynasty.

Oh lord! What was she to do? Who must she tell first- her Anna or foster parents?

She, in her nervousness, bounced into a worried Aditha and started regaling him with plans

“We shall be engaged at the forest Krishna temple! Then we can head out Nay! We must visit your barracks first. Do you wish to marry here itself- or do you have another temple in mind?”

Aditha’s sleep deprived brain took the barest moment before it was flooded with euphoria

She still loves me. She wishes to marry me

He’d yell it to all the surrounding villages if he could.

He embraced her. Nothing mattered more. He dreaded to think what his life would be without her.

The couple giggled at their own reactions and decided to head to the temple for morning prayers.

This was Nandini’s first time walking unaided since her injury and she wished to thank Krishna for her recovery – both of body and heart.

She noticed Aditha unabashedly gawk at her during her walk, interspersed with moments of worry when she stumbled.

They prayed at the temple. Nandini cleaned the environs before lighting the lamps and placing fresh flowers.

She offered the deity fresh fruits and milk before singing prayers as Aditha looked on peacefully.

The hopeful couple thanked God for reuniting them and sought His blessings for their union.

They returned to the hut to plan their next course of action. The royal family’s disapproval stemmed from her lack of identity and the fear of people not accepting a commoner as queen.

Nandini had long lost interest in finding the identity of her father. She’s lived far too long thus for his identity to have any bearing on her life.

Even a king siring her won’t undo all her life’s pain, she wryly mused

Her foster family would worry given their past entanglement – she needed to maintain a foothold before telling them.

Thirumalai anna- her dear foster brother- was her only hope

On the other side , Aditha too thought of someone who could help him- his dear friend Vallavarayan Vanthiyadevan

A romantic at heart, awareness of his Liege ‘s heartbreak and in possession of cartloads of charm- he was the right man for this job.

Aditha said he’d take her to his barracks. He explained it’d be better to reveal the news in a controlled fashion to those around him.

Nandini agreed, thinking it’s almost time for her brother’s customary visit.

She’d always known her brother’s career was not quite as it seems. The secrecy and vagueness in his description, coupled with an erratic schedule made one thing clear.

He was extremely important to someone but can’t reveal how.

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

Aditha helped her pack the contents of her hut into cloth bags and helped her up his horse.

She was wrought with nervousness- how was everyone going to react? Those who mocked her as a child certainly won’t spare her now!

Her guilt over leaving behind the Krishna temple, that gave her livelihood and a purpose to live on too weighed on her.

En route through the village, she stopped by the old priest’s house. Few years ago, he’d taken pity on the pious Mournful looking young lady and offered her this responsibility.

She bid Aditha to wait outside as she conversed with the elderly gentleman. She hesitantly explained her situation seated on the thinnai, hoping he won’t see her as a deserter.

The old man’s eyes shined with comprehension. “Wheb I first saw you, you seemed to be completely detached and aloof. I had hoped Krishna would light our life with purpose and of course love. This must be fate- it is His will” he said and granted her leave with a blessing.

Her heart seemed a little lighter as they journeyed on. Aditha said he’d written to the soldiers to prepare for a guest but hadn’t yet given them details.

Aditha’s horse neighed as they approached the destination, with the guards outside immediately recognizing their master. As they neared the barracks, Nandini could see soldiers realize there was a woman atop the crown prince’s horse. They began lining up at the entrance.

Her heart raced “heavens, so many people”

“What if they misunderstand my presence here” “how can I handle the disapproval of so many?”

She instinctively accepted Aditha’s hand and descended. He began before she could worry more “By Shiva’s grace, I have found my ardhangini. I am extremely pleased for she has accepted my suit and wished to introduce her to all my brothers in arms. Gentlemen, behold your future pattathu arasi (empress)”

Various qualities are attributed to military barracks; silence wasn’t one of them. Nandini’s stomach lurched..

The concurrent thunderous cheering sent her into a mix of relief, joy and anxiety.

The soldiers who’d long resigned that their master, known for his bravery and honor, would never wed unless for political reasons were gleeful beyond relief.

War and administration were Aditha’s only priorities. He tried sharing the joys and sorrows of all the soldiers but his air of melancholy didn’t go unnoticed over the years.

They were surprised that he’d made a love match and were determined to make it work – even if others didn’t like a commoner wedding a prince.

Vanthiyadevan, lord of Vallam and Aditha’s dear friend, could barely believe his eyes when he received his message.

Lover of love itself, he had plans up his sleeve.

He marched forward to greet the couple with his signature grin “Welcome Welcome to your Highness and your lovely fiancée”

Nandini calmed down slightly seeing a friendly visage. “That was a glorious welcome, friends, now let’s head inside “ boomed Aditha’s voice.

The couple and some close associates entered the largest tent of that encampment. Nandini felt terribly out of place – a tent filled with enough finery to rival a palace.

She seated herself on a velvet lined stool, noticing the persian rugs, gold chalices and engraved furniture, trying not to let her insecurity show.

Aditha noticed and came to stand by her side, laying a hand over her shoulder. He was flanked by his 2 friends and grandfather.

Chieftain Malayaman certainly wished for a noblewoman to marry his eldest grandson. But witnessing his pain and desolation firsthand made him grateful for any joy in his grandson’s life.

Nandini noticed the reactions of the three new men, the elderly warlord who seemed to judge her without animosity, Vanthiyadevans friendly face welcoming her and the last one…. Parthibendran tried to seem civil but failed to hide his awe of her beauty.

He openly gaped at her, much to her annoyance. Her betrothed seem to notice and decided to draw attention “ you’re all here because you’ve stood by me over the years. I need your assistance once again”

Malayaman professed his support but requested them to marry after reaching the Thanjavur. “It will strengthen the validity of your union in the public's eyes “ he insisted. Nandini felt Aditha squeeze her shoulder, so she agreed when he said they shall consider it.

Vanthiyadevan merely wished them once again with a cheeky smile and said mysteriously “Do not worry my lady. While I cannot predict the nobility, the people will welcome your presence!”

Nandini highly doubted that, but decided not to contradict. Even though Parthibendran was testing her patience, she didn’t wish to lose a potential ally- regardless of which of her virtues drew them in.

@nashibirne @nspwriteups @vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @dr-scribbler @kovaipaavai @budugu @dosai-maavu @matka-kulfi @nirmohi-premika @yehsahihai @curiousgalacticsoul @rang-lo @harinishivaa @dr-scribbler @chiyaanvikram @celestesinsight @inveter @deepti1011 @vidhurvrika @itszhunotz @babayagahunt @thegleamingmoon @maisadalawa @ragkee @inlovewithfictionalbeings @happysharkdragon @gowrimenonop-1 @ramcharanobsessed

[the-monkey-ruler]

how is china characterizing 6em these days?

From what I can tell, it’s been a lot of them have either been brothers, old comrades that once knew each other, clones, or even complete strangers.

2016 A Chinese Odyssey Part Three 大话西游3 - this one they never really met at all just that they happened to look like each other. He does sleep around a lot in this one. Deadbeat dad.

2017 Journey to the West The Legend of the Merman 西游鲛人传 - killed by Wukong, wants him dead and tries to pretend to be him to break him up with his girlfriend. Pissed-offed villain.

2020 The Real vs. Fake Monkey King 真假美猴王之大圣无双 - strangers but that Six Ears was promised his wife would be healed if he took on Wukong's memories and lost his own so that evil lady can kill Wukong. Loyal husband who lost his identity.

2019 The Monkey King: The True Sun Wukong 美猴王之真假孙悟空 - this one they grew up as brothers but had a falling out over a girl. Jealous brother.

2020 Monkey King 大圣 - made from Wukong's qi and used as a tool to gain Wukong's trust while he is forced into a fighting battle. Lab Rat turned good I think?

2021 Monkey King: The One and Only 大圣无双 - this one the guy is actually just a hair clone that gained too much sentience. Hair Clone.

2021 Six-Eared Monkey 六耳猕猴 - this one they kinda knew each other but moreso Wukong knew the guy was a shit and always trying to fight him? Also, Six Ears adopts Wukong as his son. Some jerk turned dad?

2021 Marvel Monkey 六耳猕猴之妖王重生 - Six Ears is dead and it's about his next life as a human. Dead.

2021 The Monkey King: True and False Monkey King 齐天大圣之真假美猴王 - not actually sure, prettying sure it's about Six Ears trying to get Wukong to fight heaven again. Friends? Brothers?

2022 Journey to the West: True and False Monkey King 西游记 之真假美猴王 - Six Ears and Wukong are brothers and Wukong took the fall for Six Ears and pays the price to go on the pilgrimage while Six Ears wants revenge. Brother.

2022 King of Confusion: The Rise of the Great Sage / Four Monkeys in Confusion 混世之王：混世四猴 /混世之王之大圣崛起 - this is like Wukong meeting all the spiritual primates so I'm not too sure if they are all meeting at once but it sounds like they never met beforehand as Wukong is meeting them all on the journey. Clan member?

2023 I'm Not a Great Sage 我不是大圣 - Six Ears trying to be a villain but accidentally becomes a hero in his own right. Pretty sure he was just some guy in this but still a cute idea. Wannabe Villain.

2030 True and False Monkey King / Dare to Ask the Way: Apprentice Chapter 西游记之真假美猴王/西游记真假美猴王 - this one is like Six Ears is dead but Wukong takes on Six Ear's apprentice as his own I think? Dead.

So yeah there are a lot of different takes in the past decade or so with Chinese media when it comes to characterizing the Six-Eared Macauque. A lot of directors often use their own spin either making him cartoonishly evil which is always enjoyable. Some make him just straight-up evil while others make him a tragic character that is either an abomination or a man that has been pushed too far and needs to be put down. At least two just leave him dead. And then some that make him a confidant in Wukong that has betrayed him and we watch his descent into his own downfall from one thing to another. There are a lot of different directors doing a lot of different things and I think it’s great that people can have their own creative liberties when it comes to the character and can’t wait to see where more people take him.

But these are just the ones I know about. There could be more I haven't stumbled across yet but I have to say but is spilt between Wukong knowing him before the journey or him just being a guy that Wukong happens to become his obsession. Lots of variations of the character that I think anyone could find themselves being drawn to depending on what a person is interested in or looking for. I think directors have a lot of fun with Six Ears as not only a character but as a concept because everyone loves a good doppelgänger sometimes. He isn’t as popular as like DBK or Iron Fan when it comes to like movies or such but he is still well-known enough for him to have a lot of interpretation

[themswritinwords]

The Hundred Fifty Seven Deaths of the Immortal Ethan Ellis: Cast profiles: Ethan Ellis

The man himself (Ethan) - he/him; 24 years old biologically, 310 years old chronologically; Quietly Depressed Optimist in Desperate Need of a Hug and a Nap

Depressed, traumatized, self-sacrificial, dysfunctional, exhausted--what's not to relate to love?

Just woke up during his own autopsy. That's definitely not going to unearth any poorly-buried Issues!

What do you mean endless gallows humor and self deprecation aren't healthy coping mechanisms?

*slaps bruised and blood-stained noggin* This bad boy can fit so much mental illness and metaphor in him.

The result of a necromancer-wannabe's attempts at immortality; ex-human-guinea-pig with all of the attendant moral, philosophical, and psychological conundrums that come with death being a temporary condition.

One of three "successful" experiments. The other two adjusted pretty well, all things considered. Ethan did not.

Alas, they didn't have therapy in colonial America. You know what they did have, though? An abundance of dangerous life paths and causes worth dying for. That's not gonna reinforce any dangerous thought patterns or unhealthy mental states, I'm sure!

Longest streak between deaths has been just shy of 4 years. All but one of them has been his own dang fault. He is fully aware of this, but in a deeper sense, he is entirely unaware of this.

Always cared more about others than himself. This got infinitely worse when he realized he could die without consequences (supposedly).

Animals hate him! and no that is not just the start of a clickbait article. Every animal he's met since getting immortal'd has tried to put him back in the ground. He used to be a cat person, though.

Chronically friendless and self-isolated. People don't handle the dead guy coming back to life very well, and he's gotten more than one witness in life-ruining trouble by reviving in front of them. He finds it easier to just stay away from people on all but a surface level. (Again, I can't imagine that's going to cause problems down the line....)

Travels like an overripe peach, which is to say he is the King of Motion Sickness

Repeated resurrection has turned the man into a caloric dumpster. Over the course of a day and a half he consumes ~30 chicken nuggets, four burgers, a large fry, a medium bag of chips, a popsicle, and half a cup of ice and he's still desperately hungry.

Flip flops between annoying little brother energy and annoyed big brother energy depending on who he's arguing with at the time.

Wants: Everyone and Everything to leave him tf alone (also a shower)

Needs: One good reason to live and way fewer reasons to get himself killed

Immediate goals: Keep his only friends from getting dragged down with him and all his issues

Long term goals: None, and that's rather the point (not that this is a recurring theme in my characters or anything....)

Character arc can best be described as: that quote that's like "Dying is easy, living is hard;" the shift from hope, caring, and love as passive traits to hope, caring, and love as active choices worth making

Favorite things about writing him

The Catharsis. There's a reason so many of my OCs end up with mental illnesses and unhealthy patterns of thought. Ethan is just the most explicit of these self-inserts.

The snarcasm and humor were both challenging and so fun. I'm not a witty person by nature, so it took a bit of perspective shift to get right. I think I got better a dialogue overall by writing him.

He's a very internal and thought-ful person, and it was an interesting balance to write. He always thinks more than he says and feels more than he thinks.

Not to toot my own horn, but his third act breakdown and "Oh Sh*t" moment were a delight to write and some of my strongest writing moments.

His voice is very informal and sarcastic, and it was fun to write genuine horror in a goofball, this-might-as-well-happen sort of way.

[joemerl]

Writer's Month 2022, Day 20: "Jealous"

Original fiction/Arthurian adaptation Word count: 497 Summary: The young, not-yet-king Arthur talks to Merlin about Kay.

Merlin was bent over his desk, staring into mysterious books and scribbling arcane calculations on a sheet of parchment. Whatever the purpose of this was, it was being stymied by his ward ranting as he paced up and down the room.

"He's so annoying! And full of himself! He acts as if he was already lord of the castle!"

"Hmm. Yes," the wizard said testily. He was considering turning Arthur into a salamander for a while. Salamanders were quiet.

"And he keeps talking about how he'll be a knight and how when he's a knight he'll fight Saxons and dragons and then he's like 'you'll have to learn some fighting too, I suppose, if you're to follow me into battle—'"

"He did not speak like that."

"Yes, he did! He does it all the time!"

"I mean that high, prissy voice you're using. It sounds nothing like your brother. If you wish to mock him, try something low and boorish."

Arthur snorted. He stopped ranting, but kept pacing. For a few seconds, Merlin was able to concentrate on his work.

"I can't stand the idea, of him being a knight and me just his squire. At the very least I could be somebody else's squire and not serve him my whole life." Arthur growled under his breath. "It isn't fair," he grumbled. "I'm Father's son, even I can't—even if I'm not..."

Without turning around, Merlin became aware that the boy had stopped moving. He lifted his head slightly, bushy eyebrows raised.

"Are you sure you can't use your magic to find out who my parents were?"

"I cannot," Merlin said, which was true enough. He knew the answer already, so he could hardly "find out," either through magic or any other means.

"I don't even care who they are," Arthur said, in a tone that was not quite sincere. "It would be enough just to know that my father was a knight. Then I could be one too. It's not fair," he repeated.

"Of course it's not fair. Think of all the village boys, who want to be knights but know their fathers were not."

Arthur made a small, wounded sound.

Merlin exhaled and finally turned around to look at the boy.

"Don't pout," he snapped. He looked too much like Uther when he pouted. "We are all born in certain circumstances, and we must do the best with what they are. Fate has made your brother the son of a knight. You have your own destiny."

"Yeah. To be a...wannabe knight," Arthur said, kicking at the ground.

"I didn't say that," Merlin muttered, turning back around. "But for now, you are a squire in training. Find the purpose in this destiny, and one day, you may discover it was leading to something very different."

Arthur didn't ask what he meant; it was the typical sort of riddle that the wizard always gave him. He just frowned moodily, turned around and wandered out of the room.

[hilarychuff]

princess diaries in my asoiaf au graphic series

When they come at him with the scissors, eyes on the hair he’s sloppily thrown into a bun using one of his mother’s loose hair ties, it finally starts to sink in that they’re serious. They want him — him, Jon Snow, an absolute high school nobody — to be the prince of Valyria, some far away European country he isn’t even positive he’s ever heard of before. He’d known his dad was some sort of politician over on that side of the world, maybe in France or something, but his mom had always been fuzzy on the details. Had she ever actually told him that he was a politician? That he lived in France? Or had he just assumed?

It doesn’t matter, though. His dad has always just been some loser who knocked up Jon’s mom despite the fact that he already had a wife and two kids. Other than the yearly tuition check he sends for Jon’s private school education, they have exactly no contact. Except, as it turns out, he’s not a loser. He’s a prince. Well, was a prince up until a few years ago. It seems Valyria’s royal family had undergone some turmoil after Rhaegar Targaryen, heir to the throne, was outted by the Sunspear tabloids for a series of affairs throughout his marriage to Princess Elia of Dorne. The king, Rhaegar’s father, had called the accusations libel and an act of war — and the ensuing political fallout had only been settled with the agreement that Rhaegar would abdicate his right to the throne, that the Martells would give up their own claims through Elia’s teenage son and daughter.

The matter had been settled, and Rhaegar’s younger brother Viserys was set to rule when King Aerys passed. In the wake of the royal’s actual death, however, Viserys’s reign was short lived, lasting only two weeks before he, too, had abdicated, citing instead his younger sister’s worthiness of the throne, her inherent talent and instincts for leading. The only issue with Queen Daenerys’s rule is that after having married, miscarried, and been widowed young, she’s been open about her infertility. The dragon queen, as they call her, can’t have an heir — and that is what brings her to Jon’s door. After Rhaegar’s abdication, the tension with Dorne, the whispers that she had blackmailed Viserys or used even more nefarious threats to secure the throne, stability is necessary. Valyria needs to know there will not be another succession crisis so soon, and so Daenerys has flown stateside to meet her older brother’s long lost son, a bastard child and candidate for future king nonetheless. 

Jon hadn’t believed it at first, sure it was some prank Arya had put together. He’d laughed in his alleged aunt’s face, then breathlessly told her to shut up when it sank in that she was serious (and the expression she’d donned in response had him suddenly understanding the dragon queen moniker). In the weeks since, though, as they taught him history and etiquette and what tiny spoon to use when so that he wouldn’t bring further shame to the Targaryen name when she presented him to the public, her judgment seems to have softened. Only now, as they finally finish making him presentable, his long hair trimmed into a set of tidy curls, the mustache and goatee he’s been working on for months shaved away, does she look at him with something close to pride. 

Arya, on the other hand, looks at him with disgust when she sees him before school Monday morning. They’ve always been outcasts together, after all, shunned by the popular crew for preferring metal music to pop, tattered black band tees to polo shirts with upturned collars. That he is suddenly conforming marks him as a sell out, a traitor, a bad friend, a wannabe, shallow — and she keeps up the onslaught for the entirety of their limo ride to school (though that’s one upgrade she certainly doesn’t seem to mind). She only stops when he pulls her aside, just the two of them, and finally spills the beans. 

Arya promises to keep his secret, but it only takes one day for someone else to leak the news to the press. By Tuesday, he’s greeted with camera flashes and a crowd, reporters demanding to know what he thinks of the Targaryens, of his father, if he’s met his siblings, if he’s used his new royal status to secure a date for Saturday night. And, the thing is, there is someone he sort of has plans with for Saturday. 

Just that morning, Sansa had walked to school by his side, invited him to come to her uncle Benjen’s car shop that weekend to finish up the work on the mustang he’d been saving for for years. She’d promised to order a pizza and M&Ms on her tab, teasing she could charge it to the company card thanks to the few hours she put in each week at the front desk, and at no point during Daenerys’s prince lessons had he felt as truly worthy of a crown as he did in that moment. 

And yet as he suddenly finds himself thrust into the spotlight, everyone’s attention on him, she disappears. All of Robb’s friends who’d turned their nose up at him before are pretending they’ve always been tight, Joffrey Baratheon is bragging to tabloid journalists that they go way back (without mentioning any of their literal fistfights), and Margaery Tyrell is suddenly flirting with him in class, but Sansa is ducking out of rooms when he enters them, offering only tight smiles and short waves on the rare occasions he does manage to catch her eye. She’s all but giving him the silent treatment... so when Margaery invites him to the big beach party that weekend as her date, he figures fuck it. Why not. 

Only the party ends in disaster, his very existence proves the Sunspear tabloids weren’t printing libel, and Dorne’s royal family are arguing that his half-siblings Rhaenys and Aegon should be added back to the line of succession before him. And, worse, Arya is pissed at him — both because he completely forgot he’d agreed to appear on her talk show and because he apparently broke Sansa’s heart when he stood her up Saturday night. He’s let everyone down: his aunt, his best friend, two siblings he hasn’t even met... and as infuriating as it is that Sansa ignored him and simultaneously expected him to realize they still had plans, the thought of her spending all night waiting for him makes him want to throw himself in some Valyrian dungeon for the next 60 years. He deserves it. 

But he’s going to fix it. He’s going to fix all of it. Or, actually, maybe he’ll just run away. He hasn’t decided yet, but with the Annual Valyrian Ball just around the corner — set to mark Jon’s official entry into Valyrian high society — the clock is ticking. 

ft. jon as mia, arya as lily, sansa as michael, the starks as the moscovitz family, ghost as fat louie, joffrey as lana, margaery as josh, lyanna as helen, daenerys as clarisse, drogon as rommel, rhaegar as phillippe, tormund as lars, sam as tina hakeem baba, arthur dayne as mr. gianini

[queenlilith43]

The Eldest Curses -- Biblical Nephilim?

I have been thinking of this theory for a very long time, but I had to do tons and tons of research. I had to read the Book of Enoch, which is over 100 chapters long, and also spent an entire chapter describing how the solar system works.

Tags: @apple-bottom-jeansx @the-blackdale @murderbabies @unorganisedbookshelf @revati3008 @patalliumapples @tenacioushubb @hardlymatters @pjo-tsc-trc-otherthingstoo @wannabe-warlock @clarys-heosphoros @gabtapia

Also huge shout-out to @revati3008 Ilysm you helped me with this and also managed to handle my explanation of the Book of Tobit.

I'm linking some resources I used at the end so you can read it on your own and draw your own conclusions.

As we already know, the eldest curses are the children of the Princes of Hell, specifically the oldest ones. It's been hinted at they have some powers, and I have evidence to explain how the eldest curses may be the same thing as the giants of the Nephilim from the Bible.

(Also I know there are the giant Nephilim from QOAAD that was Julian and Emma but that would be the angelic version of these!)

First, this quote from Genesis. All quotes from the Bible are the King James version, because that's the same version the Lucifer quotes were taken from.

Genesis 6:4-5 "There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually."

Evil giants are not good, and then soon after this, God just floods the Earth and kills almost everyone. It's been said that this was because of the Nephilim, and we can look to the Book of Enoch for more information on this.

Enoch 7:11-15 is "And the women conceiving brought forth giants, Whose stature was each three hundred cubits. These devoured all which the labour of men produced; until it became impossible to feed them; When they turned themselves against men, in order to devour them; And began to injure birds, beasts, reptiles, and fishes, to eat their flesh one after another, and to drink their blood Then the earth reproved the unrighteous."

I saw another quote that caught my eye, which was Enoch 6:10, "But you, ye unholy, shall be accursed."

Along with this quote, Enoch 6:6, "Therefore your days shall you curse, and the years of your lives shall perish; perpetual execration shall be multiplied, and you shall not obtain mercy."

Cursed, eh? This was also referring to the same giants earlier, the sons of the fallen angels.

Who are these fallen angels? You might be asking. Well, let's look at the Book of Enoch.

Enoch 7:9 "These are the names of their chiefs: Samyaza, who was their leader, Urakabarameel, Akibeel, Tamiel, Ramuel, Danel, Azkeel, Saraknyal, Asael, Armers, Batraal, Anane, Zavebe, Samsaveel, Ertael, Turel, Yomyael, Arazyal. [Azazel is in here somewhere I totally forget which one is supposed to be him, sorry.] These were the prefects of the two hundred angels, and the remainder were all with them."

Samyaza is supposed to be the angel of pride, similar to Lucifer. For some reason my mind went straight to this quote from Magnus, when he was talking to Asmodeus in one episode of the TV show. (It was 3.10 in case anyone's wondering.) "The kind of man whose love for his chosen son might outweigh his pride."

Even if this was on the show, Asmodeus was shown to be proud of Magnus in the book. Coincidence? I think not!

And there was Azazel, who gave weapons to man. His punishment? To be chained up in Dudael.

Enoch 10:6 "Again the Lord said to Raphael, Bind Azazyel hand and foot; cast him into darkness; and opening the desert which is in Dudael, cast him in there."

What's interesting is that the angel was Raphael. Raphael is an archangel who only appears in apocrypha books of the Bible, which is Enoch and Tobit. He also appears in Paradise Lost.

And then there's this quote, which really caught my eye. It's Enoch 94:3, "The righteous shall not fear the wicked; because God will again bring them into your power, that you may avenge yourselves of them according to your pleasure."

First, the word "wicked." And then the use of righteous made me think of a certain quote from Asmodues in TRSM, on page 308, "He was born to righteousness, and you were born to night everlasting." The eldest curses being the dark mirror of the Shadowhunters seems likely.

The word "wicked" is also used a lot in the Book of Enoch.

The Book of Enoch also deals with an order of angels called the "Grigori."

According to a passage from the Shadowhunter's Codex, the Silent Brothers are occasionally called this. But it's mainly archiac. Still interesting, though.

A lot of the fallen angels in this book were chained up, not just Azazel. Which made me think of the quote that started off The Lost Book of the White.

"And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains in darkness into the judgment of the great day." - Jude 1:6

@patalliumapples summed it up pretty well when she said, "ok so in stupid terms god has angels that defied him and left where they belonged chained up to wait for the day of judgement."

Like as if it had the same effects as the Sventhorn . . . As if Hell is a prison for demons. So what the eldest curses are used to free Lucifer, as they turn into the demonic giants of themselves.

Under the influence of the Sventhorn, in one of Magnus's dreams, he dreamt he was a giant.

Also in one of @foxglove-airmid's flower card analysis on Tessa, apparently her flower (red verbena) has some associations with Lucifer. It's said to be powerful enough to summon Lucifer. Tessa is also an eldest curse.

That's all I have right now, but feel free to add more.

[blossom-hwa]

To Bloom in the Night - JOOCHAN

I accept half the blame for this fic but the other half has to go to one casey @thepixelelf​​ both for coming up with the title and for convincing me to make this angst instead of the original pure fluff it was meant to be.... anyway casey this fic and the universe as a whole is dedicated to you because without your big brain I would not have been able to figure out all the storylines

(This is set in the same universe as weaver!Bomin, whose masterlist is linked below!! Also if you want a visual for Joochan think wannabe era like in the gif) 

Pairing: Joochan x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: cursing, brief mentions of death and blood (nothing graphic), one implication of abuse, asshole parents

Word Count: 24.4k

Death cannot exist without life, which is why Joochan can’t exist without you.

To Spin a Yarn | Golden Child Masterlist

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived two princes bestowed with magic. They were beautiful, kind – even their parents’ hardened hearts could not break the bond between them. This was fortunate, for in one prince lay a secret that would set a rift in the family for years to come.

The second prince was blessed, a golden child. His charming face and smiling lips drew attention the second he walked into a room, and the mere sound of his voice made all those present swoon. His song was rapturous, magical – his music possessed the ability to heal the deepest wounds and soothe the coldest hearts. He was useful to his parents, the perfect heir, especially when they decided to pass over his brother, the first prince, for claim to the throne.

For this brother was said to be cursed, cursed with the magic of death rather than the blessing of life. His beauty was darker, eyes piercing where his brother’s were soft, and his song, though achingly beautiful, cleft the very wounds his brother healed and wrought pain on the soul. Despite being first born, despite having a kind heart that never wished a single person harm, the king and queen looked upon him with fear and disgust, lavishing their favor on his brother instead.

Yet despite their differences, the brothers loved each other to the fullest. The elder did not resent the younger for his freedom to sing and only encouraged his art, while the younger saw beyond the sorrow woven in his brother’s voice and into the goodness of his soul. All those who saw the pair marveled at their friendship, in the way their eyes shone whenever the other was near, and many whispered that the royal family was blessed, even if the king and queen themselves refused to see it – these two young princes, blessed with handsome looks and gentle hearts, were more than the cold-hearted rulers truly deserved.

But love, the brothers would learn, meant more than simply staying together. Sometimes a love born of shared blood was not enough to keep one by the other’s side. In time, the first prince would wither under his curse of death, unable to smile even with his brother’s golden light glowing upon his face, for not being free to use the voice he was gifted by the gods cut gashes in his heart deeper than even his brother’s song could heal. Music lived in his soul, song shimmering in his blood, but so long as he was a pariah in his own home, he could not exercise his gift for fear of bringing death upon an innocent.

(It had happened once already.)

So he sang at night, music confined to the corners of his room. His voice echoed between the thick stone walls, lachrymose, sorrowful even with the happiest of songs. He sang for only himself to hear, never daring even to open the windows unless he knew no one stood below on the blank patch of stubborn grass that somehow still managed to grow, even under the curse of his song.

Then the gardener came with their night-blooming roses, petals of the darkest midnight blue blossoming under shimmering stars. And when the first prince stepped onto the balcony to perform for a crowd of what he thought was no one, he heard, for the first time in his life, someone wholly, fully alive, singing words of healing back.

From then, night by night, the prince began to unfurl his withered leaves, darkened flowers reaching for the moon as starlight glinted on his petals. For in this duet with his night-blooming rose, the first prince learned the lesson of the gods, imparted to mortals in centuries past but lost to fear of the unknown, of the darkness beyond the sun.

Death cannot exist without life, as life cannot exist without death. They are opposite and the same, two sides of a single coin. And in this gardener of the night-blooming roses, the first prince had found the life to his death, a second half in ways even his brother, loving though he was, could not yet hope to contest.

This is the story of the first prince, marked as a curse from the age of five, who grew to learn the gift behind his melody of death when it first twined with the harmony of life.

. . . . .

Joochan’s stomach roils as he stands in front of the mirror, silently waiting for the half dozen servants scuttling around his feet to finish the last adjustments to his suit. It fits him perfectly already – he doesn’t understand what they’re still doing to the hemline of his pants or the shoulders of his shirt – but Joochan doesn’t have much knowledge about clothes. Only music.

And curses and death.

His stomach doesn’t flip this time, only sinks as he closes his eyes briefly against reminders of the magic that flows unused through his veins. They don’t fade, though, only come to the forefront of his mind even as he tries to beat them back. His magic is the reason he’s wearing this suit, after all.

“Please turn left, Your Highness,” a soft voice says. Joochan doesn’t argue, just shifts in front of the mirror, and someone goes to work on his left pant leg.

Can’t show up looking sloppy today, not when he’s about to meet the princess his parents have promised him to for the rest of his life.

Joochan bites his lip hard, probably ruining the delicate lip stain applied to make his mouth appear softer, pinker, sweeter. Already he can see one servant frowning in disapproval as she dips a brush into the pink color before swiping it lightly back over his lips. She doesn’t say anything, but Joochan bows his head in apology regardless. It softens the tightness in her lips.

It seems Joochan can’t do anything without apologizing, really. Walking too loudly, biting his lip, breathing, living, being born…

He’ll probably do something and have to apologize to the princess today, too. Trip over her skirts, maybe, or spill his drink. He’s known to be clumsy, much more so than his brother Bomin (though in his defense, he never had the same lessons in posture and deportment that Bomin did, not after they erased his claim to the throne). At least this kind of thing is easier to apologize for than the reason they’re being married.

If Joochan wasn’t so cursed, after all, his parents wouldn’t be this eager to have him shipped off so early.

And he wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid suit.

A careless needle pricks the back of his shin. He flinches. Someone murmurs an apology and he ducks his head briefly in acknowledgement. A needle in his skin is less of an issue than his tiny breakfast threatening to make an appearance on the floor –

With effort, Joochan reins himself in. Just in time, too – the servants have finally stopped crouching around his feet and begun filtering out the door, leaving only Jaehyun behind to help him into the matching coat. “Ready?” he asks, settling the fabric over Joochan’s shoulders.

Joochan relaxes a little with the warmth in Jaehyun’s voice. He only ever speaks when they’re alone for fear of someone seeing him overstep his station (which would not end happily, especially if word reached his parents), but he’s still one of Joochan’s oldest friends in the palace and Joochan knows Jaehyun cares for him, feels it in the light touches, the subtle looks, the brief nods and smiles that the servant passes him when the time is right.

With only a handful of people whom Joochan can say truly know and care for him, he treasures every spot of comfort any of them can give.

“No,” Joochan replies honestly, shrugging his shoulders under the coat. He’ll have to take it off once he reaches the tearoom, what’s the point of putting it on in the first place? “You know I don’t want this. But…”

But a lot of things, all of which Jaehyun already knows.

Jaehyun’s lips turn in sympathy. “She’ll probably be nice,” he says, dreamy voice reassuring. “I mean, she’s Donghyun’s sister. Even if you haven’t met her yet, you know he wouldn’t speak so highly of someone he didn’t care for.”

Joochan swallows. Jaehyun has a point, the same point Joochan has made to calm himself many times over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I hope so.”

Before Jaehyun can say any more, a knock sounds at the door, heavy and light all at once with an energy only Joochan’s personal guard can muster. “Time to go!” Jangjun calls through the stone.

Deep breaths. Joochan clenches his fist once. Lets go. Tries to relax himself as he stares at the door.

“Joochan?”

He blinks, registering Jaehyun’s concerned face. His lips tilt into a brief smile. As bad as this might be, at least he’ll have Bomin and Jangjun there, even if Jaehyun has to stay behind. Donghyun, too. Three friends out of four will have to be enough for today.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m fine.” Reaching forward, Joochan opens the door to Jangjun’s carefully stoic face.

Jangjun raises an eyebrow at Joochan’s countenance but says nothing about it. “Ready, Your Highness?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan bites the inside of his lip so as not to ruin the makeup again. “Let’s go.”

. . . . .

Joochan’s hands ache by the time his parents have had enough of his playing and Bomin’s voice, motioning for them to sit down and take some of the refreshment they’ve been nibbling at during the hour of music. He gladly does, settling himself on the soft chair as he nurses the tension in his forearm. His fingertips have hardened after years of playing the violin, but even after nearly two decades of playing the piano, his muscles still tense after he plays too long.

He looks to the side and his stomach flips unpleasantly, remembering why he’s here.

Donghyun’s sister sits next to him, eyes carefully fixed on the small plate placed in front of her. There isn’t much there – similar to Donghyun, then, in his bird-like appetite, unless it’s just nerves – and she doesn’t look up to face him, even when he almost meets her eyes.

Something curdles in Joochan’s stomach. She’s Donghyun’s sister and Donghyun is one of his good friends. If it were anyone else he’d been promised to, Joochan might be inclined to raise a bigger fuss, but the fact that she’s a member of Donghyun’s family keeps his lips tightly shut.

Bomin wordlessly passes him a plate of cookies. At a warning glance from his brother, Joochan takes one, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth. Sweet frosting crumbles between his teeth but all he tastes is sawdust.

At the other end of the table, Donghyun’s mother begins lavishing praise on Joochan’s and Bomin’s talents. She’s a sweet woman, to be sure – if Joochan were normal, he wouldn’t be so opposed to being her son-in-law – but all Joochan can think of as he gives thanks for her kind words is that his parents are forcing him to inflict his cursed little self onto Donghyun’s happy family just so they can be rid of him once and for all.

Well, it’s not as if they’re completely blameless either. The princess isn’t actually royal, just the orphaned daughter of high nobility whom the palace took in when she was young. A match like this is advantageous for them, too – the first prince of a powerful kingdom, even one passed over for the throne, is a good match indeed for one who doesn’t even have royal blood. Even the insult of marrying someone barren of magic can be overlooked.

Children are only pawns for their parents, pawns on a little chessboard where their parents play. They’ll forever be pawns until their parents die, and then they’ll become the players, using their own children as pawns in the new generation’s game of royal chess…

Joochan moodily stirs sugar into his tea. The silver spoon scrapes lightly at the bottom of the cup and he flinches slightly at the grating sound. If Donghyun’s parents knew the truth – hell, if Donghyun himself knew the truth – they probably wouldn’t be pushing this marriage so hard. They probably wouldn’t be pushing it at all.

Not for the first time, Joochan ponders the consequences of telling Donghyun or his sister the real story, the one where he isn’t devoid of magic. The one where he can sing, beautifully, even – it’s just that anything alive will drop dead after the first few bars of his song.

Well, except the grass beneath his balcony window. Joochan doesn’t know how it keeps growing, but he appreciates the effort.

Bomin pokes his side. Someone said his name.

Joochan looks up, almost spilling his tea. The cup rattles in the saucer and he winces, already feeling his mother’s subtle glare out of the corner of her carefully blank eye. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you take your fiancée for a walk in the gardens?” she asks. “Our gardens are always lovely on such a clear day.”

It’s a demand shaped as a question and Joochan doesn’t bother to dispute, only nodding briefly before taking his fiancée’s arm as they stand. “Of course.”

On his other side, Bomin makes a small fist in encouragement. Donghyun smiles from across the table. Joochan does his best to return the gestures before walking out of the tearoom with his fiancée – gods, he hates that title – on his arm, Jangjun following silently behind.

“Do you actually want a tour of the gardens?” Joochan asks when he’s sure they’re out of sight. Jangjun won’t say anything, and his parents probably don’t actually care where he really goes – they just want him away for a little, presumably to get to know his future wife. Bitterness fills his mouth – future wife – but he swallows it down. “We could go somewhere else, if you want. Anywhere, really.”

She only raises a curious eyebrow, jerking her head slightly towards Jangjun where he stands, a silent presence. Joochan understands her unspoken question and smiles, this time genuinely. “Jangjun won’t tell,” he says, glancing back at his guard. He receives a wink in response.

Something in the princess’s expression cracks with relief. Her lips curve, gaze turning brighter with careful amusement. “I almost thought you were going to be one of those suck-up princes,” she says, eyes cautiously teasing. “Thank you for proving me slightly wrong.”

Joochan raises an eyebrow. “Slightly?”

“Only time will tell the full truth.” She shrugs. Joochan appreciates her honesty. “And I wouldn’t mind seeing the gardens, actually, Your Highness. Your gardeners sing to the flowers, don’t they?” Her gaze turns curious.

“Please just call me Joochan, we’re of the same rank.” We’re going to be married soon, anyway. “And yes, they do,” Joochan confirms. It’s wondrous to watch them coax withered leaves into brightness, wilting petals into bloom, even if he himself will never be able to create such beauty. “The gardeners might be on their break right now, but if they are, I’ll see if you can listen to them sing before you leave next week.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and in another body, in another universe, Joochan thinks he could have fallen in love with her. Donghyun’s sister seems bright for the most part – intelligent, kind, curious, with a pinch of much-appreciated mischief. Her dance was captivating earlier, and she certainly has the same appreciation for music that Joochan and Bomin do.

But Joochan would always have to hide around her, hide his song and his curse. For that reason, he can’t bring himself to contemplate even the notion of truly falling for someone around whom he’d always have to pretend to be a different person.

They walk quietly for a while, stopping under larger trees every so often to admire the flowers from the shade. She compliments his skill at violin and piano, and he admires her dance. Neither of them speaks of his supposed inability to sing. Joochan dutifully picks a small bouquet and presents it to her – all different types of tulips, her favorite (his are roses, but he doesn’t mention that) – and they keep making small conversation, all the while keeping an eye out for any gardeners tending to the blossoms.

It’s a good thing Joochan knows how to talk, because as the half hour mark ticks past, there hasn’t been a single gardener in sight. The grounds are large, of course, and many are probably still on their afternoon break, but words become harder and harder to find and Joochan is almost ready to suggest turning back when they round a corner to see a solitary figure bent over a bush of roses, softly singing to the blooms.

No matter how many times Joochan has listened to those with healing music breathe their magic into plants, the scene never grows old in his mind. Listening to your song, watching the pink roses unfurl their petals under the sunlight, Joochan almost forgets the lady on his arm. It doesn’t matter, anyway – Donghyun’s sister stands just as still as he, gaze fixed on the sight.

If only he could inspire such life.

Too soon, the song ends. Joochan blinks, clearing himself of the daze of your music, and Donghyun’s sister sighs softly at his side, eyes sparkling with rapture. He’s about to suggest quietly that they move on so as not to disturb you from your work, but you turn around first.

Joochan balks as your eyes widen, taking in his dyed pink hair just before you sink to one knee, respectfully bowing your head. “Your Highnesses,” you murmur softly.

Your spoken voice is as beautiful as your song.

“Please rise,” he replies, smiling. The ever-present ache in his heart seems to have relaxed slightly with the sound of your music. “We were only listening to your song. You sing beautifully.”

“You really do,” his fiancée echoes. “Wondrous.”

A flustered smile lifts the corners of your lips and you duck your head, bowing once more. “Thank you, Your Highnesses. I am honored at your praise.”

“Are you new?” Joochan asks on impulse. “I apologize, I just haven’t seen you around before. What is your name?”

You nod. “Yes, Your Highness. I only began work a few days ago. My name is Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I hope you have been properly welcomed into your employment.” Joochan smiles. “My fiancée and I should be going so we won’t disturb you further, but thank you for gracing us with your voice.”

The smile on your face grows wider. “The pleasure was all mine. Thank you for gracing me with your presence.”

Joochan turns away, Donghyun’s sister following on his arm. Grass rustles behind them as you presumably get back to work. “That was amazing,” she whispers, eyes still rapturous.

“I know.” Joochan shakes his head. “Every time I see it, I still can’t believe my eyes.”

They lapse into compatible silence once more, quietly admiring the flowers on all of their sides. Joochan peers at a new bush of roses, studying the white petals, when Donghyun’s sister stops beside him. He looks up. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no.” She smiles, pointing ahead at an empty patch of grass underneath a tall balcony.

Joochan’s heart freezes. How did he not realize they were coming through this way, under his own rooms?

Too late, he realizes Donghyun’s sister is waiting for a response. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was just noticing that the garden was slightly empty up there.” She points again briefly. “Is there a reason for it?”

The lie, though bitter, falls quickly from his lips. “Oh, for some reason, things don’t seem to grow well over there other than the grass.” He shrugs, hoping his words don’t tremble. “The gardeners can’t figure out why. They’ve tried everything.”

His fiancée looks mystified, but she accepts the explanation without further questions. Silence falls again and stretches until they return to the tearoom, ready to face cautious siblings and eager parents once more.

. . . . .

“So?” Bomin raises an eyebrow as he and Joochan enter their shared hallway, pausing in front of his room. He looks around, but no one’s there. Jangjun got held up a couple minutes ago, and Bomin has carefully placed himself where no other guards will hear him if he speaks quietly. “What did you think of her?”

Joochan studies a crack in the stone wall. “She was nice. I liked her.”

Even without looking, Joochan can tell Bomin’s second eyebrow has risen. Why they don’t look strange against his brother’s ashy dyed hair, Joochan doesn’t know, but Bomin somehow looks good in everything. Even dark eyebrows against grey-white hair.

“Not in that way, though.”

Joochan doesn’t refute Bomin’s statement. His brother is even more perceptive than he despite his younger age – after so many years growing up alongside each other, Bomin picks up on Joochan’s nuances of language and action more easily than Joochan himself realizes. He just shrugs.

Bomin sighs. He doesn’t say anything, but one look at his carefully schooled expression reveals the apology coating his tongue. It doesn’t fall, of course, because Joochan told Bomin to stop apologizing years ago, but the impulse is still there.

Joochan almost smiles. At times like this, even Bomin isn’t so difficult to read. “It’s not your fault,” he says, words slipping off his tongue with deceptive ease.

“Still.” Bomin bites his lip, smudging the thin sheen of lip stain that’s somehow still there after the entire day. “I just…” He sighs. “I don’t know. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” As if to prove it, Joochan widens his lips into a smile and forces his eyes to crinkle in a way that sometimes (rarely) manages to fool his brother. “At least, I might be. In the future. You know.” His lips curl in mischief. “Might fall madly in love with Donghyun’s sister after she saves me from an assassin’s knife, like those –”

A hand covers Joochan’s mouth before he can go on. He smiles behind Bomin’s fingers anyway, a real smile, because Bomin’s ears are red and nothing delights Joochan more than flustering his younger brother.

“We don’t mention those books,” Bomin hisses, face flushed. “Right?”

Joochan licks his hand and laughs at his brother’s cry of disgust. “I didn’t mention them,” he teases, mouth free. “I only hinted.”

“I hate you.” The way Bomin’s hiding a smile, though, confirms that his words are just a lie. “You absolute insufferable menace. I’m going to suffocate you with a pillow.”

“That is, unless a brave princess saves me from my evil brother –”

Joochan dodges Bomin’s swipe, cackling, before skipping over to his door and darting inside. After a second, he pops his head back out. “Goodnight!”

A grumbled “goodnight” follows with the sound of a second closing door, and then Joochan is left to feel the smile slide off his lips as he faces the stone walls of his room.

Alone.

Joochan swallows, staring at the darkened night outside his windows. The stars glitter, moonlight just beginning to seep onto the cold floor.

Already he knows it will be a sleepless night.

He goes through the motions, answers the door to Jaehyun’s light knock and allows his servant to help him undress. Jaehyun doesn’t ask much – maybe Joochan’s expression isn’t as neutral as he thought – but squeezes his arm slightly before he heads back out, closing the door behind him with a low thud. Joochan blows out the lantern on his desk with a practiced puff of breath, crawls into bed, and closes his eyes even though he knows it won’t do anything.

Sure enough, when the palace clocks strike midnight, Joochan is still wide awake. He heaves a sigh, rolling over one more time in a last ditch effort to fall asleep.

No use.

Joochan swings his legs out of bed. Using the moonlight as a beacon, he feels his way over to his desk and picks up the violin and bow sitting on top of all of his books and music. He plays a few quick scales before settling the instrument more firmly beneath his chin and turning to the window.

He wants to sing. Aches to. The longer he stands by his desk, staring out the balcony, the more he feels the urge as though the moonlight itself tugs at his heart, the way it does to the tides.

So he does. The walls of his room are thick for a reason – if no one can hear him playing his violin so late at night, no one will hear his voice, either. He draws the bow over the strings, fingers plucking in practiced motions as he raises his voice with the highs and lows in a wordless melody, achingly beautiful even to his own ears, a song of sorrow and pain under the darkness of night.

When he finishes, he’s somehow migrated to the balcony window, staring out at the barren garden below. The hand holding his bow reaches out, touches the cool glass.

No one will be out so late, not tonight. In just four days, there will be a grand ball celebrating his engagement – everyone will be catching up on sleep tonight before three days of rapid preparation. Guards have never been posted under his balcony for safety reasons (their safety, not his – Joochan honestly thinks his parents would be fine if he dropped dead), and gardeners don’t work at night until they’re tending the night-blooming flowers, none of which are in this stretch of garden. So Joochan shifts the glass aside, letting in a cool breeze that rustles his abandoned blankets and ripples through his nightshirt, and steps into the night air.

Joochan raises the bow once more, bringing it to the strings as he lets his voice loose, singing to silent audience as he leans into the violin like a lifeline. His song carries in the soft breeze, fading beyond the trees, but Joochan doesn’t care if his song merely disappears into the air instead of echoing in a tearoom, in a shrine, in a concert hall. So long as he can convince himself there is an audience listening that isn’t just him, convince himself that people can hear and love his voice as he draws his bow over the violin strings, he will be content, at least in this moment.

His song begins a crescendo and he closes his eyes, sparkling stars and the waxing moon splashed like a mural across his eyelids. His throat strains to keep the melody and he reaches the highest note, slowly, slowly climbing back down as a smile spreads across his face –

The violin almost falls from his hands when a voice begins singing back.

Someone is singing back. Meaning – someone heard his song – and they are not dead and somehow singing back –

Joochan stumbles backward, almost falling into his room. He catches himself on the side of the balcony window, shoulder throbbing where he hit it against the stone, but he can’t even register the pain because someone is down there and heard him singing and gods, maybe they’re about to die and Joochan will have killed a second person in his short life, two people, two people too many –

The song continues. Softer, yes, but deliberately so, not weakened by a failing heart or incoming death. It continues, smooth like starshine, coaxing, beautiful…

It doesn’t stop.

Step by step, Joochan walks forward and peers over the balcony edge. In the moonlight, he catches a glimpse of roses beneath the stone platform – yes, roses, midnight blue roses of Joochan’s favorite variety that only blooms at night – blossoming under his balcony which means they somehow survived the curse of his voice.

And not just them.

Someone steps out from directly under the balcony into Joochan’s line of vision. A vaguely familiar figure with a vaguely familiar voice – no, not vaguely, an entirely memorable voice from just hours before –

Y/N.

Wide, shocked eyes meet Joochan’s directly in the moonlight, confirming his suspicions. His heart leaps into his throat and stays there as you stare at each other, a prince and a gardener, one with a cursed voice and the other seemingly unaffected by it – unaffected by it, which should be impossible –

Too late, Joochan remembers that his face is memorable if not for the fact that he is a member of royalty, then by his head of dyed pink hair. Which means you can recognize him. His feet stumble back into the room and he all but crashes into the side of the balcony before managing to shove the window in place. He nearly crushes his hand and violin between glass and stone before he slides to the floor, head thudding painfully against the stone wall.

You know.

You know.

You – a simple gardener, wholly new to the palace – know now from his stupid face and pink hair that he has a curse that wilts flowers and kills people and yet somehow – somehow your voice is strong enough to make withered roses bloom once more and even more importantly, somehow you didn’t die upon hearing his song.  

Joochan doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

. . . . .

Jaehyun walks into Joochan’s room the next morning and upon seeing his face asks, “What happened to you?”

Joochan just groans and covers his face with a pillow. It’s day two of Donghyun’s family’s visit and he has to be up for meetings and showing his fiancée around and whatnot, but he knows he has to look like death after an entire night of racing thoughts and zero sleep. “Do I look that bad?”

In reply, Jaehyun goes and finds a small army of servants skilled in the underappreciated art of makeup who spend over an hour dispelling the gray from his skin and bringing back the slightest shade of color to his face.

It probably helps, at least somewhat. But even Jangjun, who normally can keep a neutral expression during the worst situations, makes a face when Joochan walks out the door. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks quietly as they set off down the hall.

“Some,” Joochan says truthfully. He did drift off sometime toward dawn. But there was less than an hour between then and Jaehyun waking him up again, so it doesn’t count for much.

Jangjun raises a disbelieving eyebrow but only follows Joochan down the hall to breakfast.

All day long, Joochan itches to run away. Not from the palace, not exactly (he’s been wanting to do that since he was a teenager, that’s nothing special), but to the garden grounds where he knows he has the best chance of finding you.

But of course there’s no time, no time at all. Immediately after breakfast he’s whisked off to Sungyoon for the morning lessons Joochan can barely pay attention to. Lunch is barely a moment in passing before Soojung takes him for his afternoon classes, then Jangjun is depositing him in front of the grand ballroom for a special partner dancing lesson with Donghyun’s sister because of course, at their engagement ball, they will be expected to dance. Together.

Joochan tries, he really does. He keeps his hands in place on his fiancée’s waist, doesn’t twitch when she puts her hand on his shoulder. He’s a fair dancer – of course Youngtaek will find areas to critique, but he’s literally a court musician and the dance instructor – but today he trips over skirts and feet and who can blame him when every unexplained sound is a knock at the door summoning him to his parents, who will then ask how he was so careless as to let a simple gardener learn his secret?

And then what would they do to you?

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes over and over to his fiancée as he finally walks out of the ballroom, Youngtaek sick of dealing with him for the day. “I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry about everything –”

“Relax, Your – Joochan. It’s fine,” she says, smiling lightly. He feels even worse – somehow, she can still muster the strength to give him a smile while he can’t even focus on an hour or two of dance. Dance is her magic, her calling, just as Joochan’s is his voice, and she’s already toning down her skill for him – why can’t he concentrate enough to respect that?

“Hey, I’m serious.” Her voice pulls Joochan out of his thoughts again. “Did you sleep at all last night? From what Donghyun said, it isn’t like you to act this way.”

A bitter laugh almost leaves Joochan’s lips but he swallows it away, opting to just sigh instead. “I sometimes have trouble sleeping.” It isn’t a lie. “Last night… was just a little worse than usual.”

She falls silent, then, lips turning down as she undoubtedly tries to process the meaning behind Joochan’s words. He panics. “It’s not – not anything to do with you!” Stupid, stupid, stupid! “I just – sometimes I start thinking and I can’t stop –”

“Joochan!” Two hands fall on his shoulders and Joochan shuts up as Donghyun’s sister stares him dead in the eyes. “Joochan, really. Calm down. It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. Okay?” She smiles again. “One bad day doesn’t mean anything.”

He swallows. “Sorry.”

She waves his words away. “Stop apologizing, I already said it’s fine.” Her gaze is full of concern. “Maybe take some time to rest and relax this evening? I think you need it.”

This evening. Joochan blinks. There’s nothing planned for this evening, at least as far as he knows. Just dinner with Donghyun’s family, then nothing…

This might be the only time he can go to see you.

“Rest,” Joochan echoes. “Yeah.” He swallows, knowing full well he’ll be doing anything but that. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The minute the excruciatingly long dinner is over and he’s excused himself to rest (even his parents don’t argue, which says a lot about his appearance), Joochan takes off down the halls, walking fast, fast, faster until he’s running –

“Your Highness!”

Why did he ever think he could outrun Jangjun?

Joochan stops because there’s no point in trying to leave his guard in the dust. Jangjun catches up quickly, barely panting, and fixes him with a stare. “Asshole,” he hisses, eyes crinkling with slight amusement. Then they turn serious. “Where are you going?”

Jangjun knows. When he was given the position of Joochan’s personal bodyguard, he was fully briefed on everything about Joochan, including his curse. Joochan trusts Bomin above all, but Jangjun is a close second. For this reason, he considers telling Jangjun the truth.

No. Joochan clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. Not now, at least. He needs to clear this up first – it’s his fault, after all. He’ll only consider bringing Jangjun into this if things grow exponentially worse.

Hopefully, they won’t.

“The gardens,” Joochan says shortly. “Don’t follow me. Please.”

Jangjun’s eyes narrow. “You’re not being blackmailed, are you?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.”

“No secret meetings, no rendezvous with anyone other than the princess?”

Joochan groans, face turning pink. “No, Jangjun.”

“I’m following,” Jangjun decides. Joochan opens his mouth to argue, but his guard cuts him off. “I’ll stay far enough that I won’t hear what you say, if you end up saying anything. You won’t see me either. But if you think I’m going to leave you alone when you’re acting like this, you’re crazy.”

Well, it’s better than it could’ve been. Joochan nods tightly. “Fine.”

They exit the palace and Jangjun slips into the shadows, unseen even though Joochan knows he’s there. He tries not to sprint into the gardeners’ sheds, but he still gets there too fast.

One of his hands rises to knock on the door of the largest shed. He prays you’re inside.

A gardener – Joochan thinks his name is Seungmin – opens the door. Immediately his eyes widen and he swings the shed fully open, sinking down to one knee. “Your Highness.”

Joochan tries to peer around Seungmin into the shed, but a few large tables piled high with plants and tools block his vision. “Please rise,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry to interrupt you as you all are leaving for the night, but I just wanted to speak to one gardener. Privately. Um, their… their name is Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks. “Of course,” he says quickly, though his eyes burn with suppressed curiosity. He ducks back into the shed. “Y/N!”

“Just a moment!” you call back from further inside.

Panic rises in Joochan’s throat at the sound of your voice, so sweet and smooth and healing, everything his isn’t. What if you’ve already told someone? What if you run away just on seeing his face?

What if you’re afraid of him?

Footsteps pad on the floor of the shed and then you push past Seungmin, looking around in apprehension. Your eyes meet.

And you freeze.

Seungmin dithers by the door, looking unsure what to do. Joochan does his best to give him a smile. “Please leave us.”

He disappears into the shed. The door shuts.

Alone with you, Joochan is struck with two realizations.

One: you look about as haggard as he does. Which means you know or at least suspect something is up with him.

Two: he has no idea what he wants to say.

Oh, gods. Joochan fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Why did he even think to try and find you? If he’d just left you alone, would you have just lost your suspicion naturally? Why did he confirm things by coming here? What does he do and what does he say?

You cut his thoughts off by dropping to your knees. Joochan steps back in shock.

“Please, Your Highness.” Your voice, previously so sweet and clear, now trembles with anxiety and fear. Joochan swallows, shame and repulsion building in his heart.

Since when did he learn to inspire such terror?

“I apologize.” Your words shake as you prostrate yourself on the ground. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been there, I shouldn’t have been trying to plant the flowers at night – I didn’t know, I won’t tell, I swear by all the gods –”

Joochan falls to his knees on impulse, reaching out towards you. You flinch away. Hurt blooms in Joochan’s chest but he lowers his hand – he is repulsive, after all, a prince marked by death itself. He shouldn’t be surprised you feel the same way as he thinks.

Even if it hurts.

“I’m not here to punish you,” Joochan says, voice surprisingly steady. “Not at all, I swear. I just –” he swallows – “I just need to know how much you know…?” He winces at the uncertainty in his tone. Even now, he still doesn’t know what to say. “Actually, is there a more private place where we can speak?”

Your eyes widen. Joochan balks. “No – I – I’m not trying to take you somewhere else where I can hurt you,” he frantically explains. “It’s just – I just –”

You cut him off by pointing to a small copse of trees. “There,” you suggest, still looking like your heart wants to beat out of your chest. “We can speak… there? Your Highness.”

Joochan almost holds out a hand for you to take before he remembers that would probably make you feel even more uncomfortable. Instead, he lowers his half-raised arm before standing and following you to the trees. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

Hidden in the foliage, you look a little more relaxed, as though in your natural element. Joochan envies how easily you shift between the trees. “Is there… something more you wanted to say to me, Your Highness?”

Your voice still shakes. Joochan tries not to cry. How can he convince you that he really has no intention to do you any harm, that he just needed to come and see for himself how much you knew?

He takes a deep breath. “Did you tell anyone?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not a soul. And I was alone that night.”

Relief replaces a touch of the anxiety welling in his heart. “May I ask why you were there?”

“I just saw that that part of the garden was more or less empty,” you say. “I thought it would be nice to plant something there, and night-blooming roses are my favorite, so I…” You trail off. “I didn’t realize there was a reason for that. No one – no one told me I wasn’t supposed to be there –”

“It’s not your fault,” Joochan says automatically. “If no one told you, then you can’t be blamed. I’m at fault, mostly.” He looks down. “I shouldn’t have opened my window, I just didn’t think anyone would be outside that night.” A lump rises in his throat. “I can’t sing around most people, you know.”

Silence falls. Joochan starts to panic again. He said too much, definitely said too much – why did he even say that last bit, what was the point –

“Most?”

He lifts his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You said most people.” Your eyes brighten slightly with curiosity. “Are there any who can…?”

Joochan swallows as his earliest memory surfaces. His breath catches and he shoves the recollection away. “No, just you,” he whispers.

“Are you sure? It could just be that your magic only withers plants, I might not be –”

“It’s just you,” Joochan snaps.

Silence falls. Joochan takes a deep breath. He tries not to think of his disastrous first and only singing lesson but that just makes the image more vivid – his instructor’s smile freezing, legs buckling, hand coming up to clutch his heart as blood trickles from his lips –

“Your Highness?”

With effort, Joochan jerks himself out of his daze. He looks at his hands, almost expecting to see his instructor’s blood dripping rivulets down his palms, but there’s nothing. “I’m sorry,” he chokes hoarsely. “Please don’t press it. It’s just you.”

You bow your head. “I apologize.”

Quiet fills the air once more. Joochan is pretty sure the conversation is over. “I’m sorry for taking up your time when you were probably getting ready to go home.” He tries to smile. “I’ll leave you now, I know you must be tired after a long day. I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you. Just please, don’t tell anyone, because then I don’t know…” Panic crawls up his throat. “I don’t know what would happen to me or you.”

“Never.” You shake your head. “I’ll keep my silence. And I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you, Your Highness.” You look down. “I should have asked before deciding to do what I did. Speaking of… would you like the roses to be taken away? I could –”

“No!” Joochan flushes with his sudden outburst. Check yourself, Joochan. “No, please don’t,” he continues more softly. “I like them there, if you have the time to keep tending them.”

The small, genuine smile that creeps up your face nearly makes Joochan take a step back. Even as the sky grows darker, moonlight replacing the last rays of the sun, your eyes seem to glow in the deepening night, sparkling softly almost like the night-blooming roses you’ve planted beneath his balcony. “It’s my job, Your Highness.” You bow slightly. “I am honored to serve.”

Joochan feels a smile widen his lips slightly, glowing in the light of your own. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The rest of the week comes and goes. Joochan puts on a blithe smile, escorts his fiancée anywhere they need to go, dances with her at the ball like a dutiful future husband. He tries to enjoy his time with Donghyun, who’s the only person from the delegation that he’s really happy to see, and when his family eventually leaves at the end of the week, there’s a little bit of genuine sadness at their departure.

It doesn’t match up to the utter relief at not having to pretend anymore, though.

So Joochan settles back into his normal life, deciding to make the most of the next few months alone without fiancées or future in laws, just his blood brother and two friends. His parents seem satisfied with how he conducted himself during his engagement bar the first couple of days, and Joochan slowly slips out of notice as their attention returns to Bomin’s upcoming kingship.

That’s one side effect of Joochan’s semi-exile from royal life that he doesn’t mind. The pressure of being the crown prince, having to act the perfect child even when he wants to do nothing but scream… sure, Joochan doesn’t actually scream when that happens (not until he can bury his face in his pillow, at least), but he has a little more freedom to act out than Bomin does.

Good thing Bomin has always been a good actor.  

But with Bomin’s busy schedule, Joochan has less time to talk to him. And he has so much he wants to talk about – mostly about the marriage, yes, which still turns his stomach every time it’s mentioned, but also other things. Inane things. Stuff like how Soojung could be a little less sarcastic when he’s forgotten a math concept or how the flowers in the garden have begun to fully bloom.

More specifically, the flowers just under Joochan’s own balcony.

They’re growing well. Joochan doesn’t know how many nights you’ve spent tending to them over the past couple of weeks, but the bushes of midnight blue seem to be growing even faster than they usually do. The last time he took a walk through, the buds were just appearing. That was a week ago. He didn’t see you then. In fact, he hasn’t actually seen you since the night you two spoke.

Which is normal. Gardeners don’t usually interact with princes, and Joochan himself doesn’t spend as much time as he’d like walking through the grounds. Besides, not all gardeners have shifts at the same time. But Joochan kind of wishes he could hear your voice again, if only for your song to soothe his mind.

He doesn’t dare go out onto the balcony anymore, though. If you’re working on the roses, it’s entirely possible that someone else might be with you on any given night, singing to the blooms. The flowers would die. And just because you’re somehow immune to his song doesn’t mean anyone else will be.

Joochan does not want to test that out.

So he keeps singing to himself within the thick walls of his stony room to an audience of his furniture and books. He sings more often these nights – life feels a little more barren with a lack of Bomin’s presence and the knowledge of his marriage hanging over his head – but he won’t go out onto the balcony. Not again.

Until a bouquet of roses is delivered to his room.

Once every week or two, gardeners and servants switch out the flowers around the palace. Joochan likes to keep a vase on his desk, usually some variety of roses, and it’s always nice to see a new bouquet replacing the wilted flowers of the past week, their faint scent perfuming the air.

When he walks into his quarters after a long day to see a bunch of midnight blue roses streaked with white sitting on his desk, clustered in a delicate vase, Joochan doesn’t think much of it. He smiles a little – of all roses, the night-blooming ones are his favorite type – but they don’t seem to signify anything deeper until he sees a tiny piece of something white poking out from behind the petals.

It’s a bit of ripped paper. Eyebrows furrowed, Joochan unfolds it.

You are still welcome to sing, you know. No one comes with me - they all seem to think I have some magic touch.

Then, almost as an afterthought:

You have a beautiful voice.

The note isn’t signed, but only one person could have sent it.

Joochan’s chest tightens the longer he clutches the note. You sent him roses, roses from the bushes underneath his balcony – maybe you were even the one who placed the vase on his desk – and left a note, too, a note that welcomes him to sing during the night when you are there.

You have a beautiful voice.

His stomach flips when he reads the line again, but not in the same way it always flips at the mention of his engagement. It feels lighter, sweeter, nervous but almost playful.

It feels nice.

But he still doesn’t dare go onto the balcony and start singing unannounced, so that night, he heads to the garden instead of standing above. Jangjun doesn’t stand guard at night, and it’s much easier to get past the night guard than to get past him. He waits by the rose bushes nervously, knowing there will be many questions if someone somehow catches him.

You appear after the moon has risen. From the way you start, Joochan gathers you didn’t expect him to actually be here on the grass, waiting for you on land instead of on his balcony above. Still, you take it in stride, bowing low as you approach. “Your Highness.”

“Y/N.” He nods slightly. “Thank you for the flowers.”

At that, you smile. “I thought you might like them.”

“I did, very much.” Joochan looks away, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “I… saw your note. I appreciated that too.”

Your smile grows more hesitant, but it doesn’t disappear. “I apologize if I was too forward, Your Highness.” You swallow visibly. “It’s just that… forgive me for my presumption. I couldn’t live without my song. I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

Pain, a pain that cuts even deeper than Bomin’s ability to heal. It can be soothed by another’s song, but only singing himself can truly heal it. Joochan barely knows how to describe the feeling – it’s been present ever since he can remember. But he doesn’t say any of that. “Thank you for your sympathy,” he says, trying to smile. “And for trying to understand.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Your smile heals Joochan almost as much as your song.

The conversation lapses into silence, then. You turn to the flowering bushes, pruning some of the longer tendrils and singing softly to the growing buds that have begun to open slightly under the influence of your magic. Joochan sits down against the palace wall and closes his eyes, listening to your soft melodies fill the air –

“I gave you the note with the intention of you singing, Your Highness.”

Joochan’s eyes fly open to see you looking at him, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your mouth. “You came here to sing, didn’t you?”

“But the roses,” he protests. “They’ll die.”

“And I can bring them back,” you counter. “Sing, Your Highness.” Your gaze softens. “It will help.”

Joochan doesn’t know how you know his pain, or even a semblance of it. Your magic heals, doesn’t kill – that means something else must have happened for you to understand a fraction of what he feels. Somehow you do know, though, and Joochan feels more compelled to listen to you than his own doubts when you say that it will help.

He leans back again and hums a brief melody, warming up his throat. Immediately the leaves closest to him begin to shrivel at the edges and he almost stops, but you hum a bar of your own, perfectly mixing your voice with Joochan’s song. You nod, still clipping leaves, and Joochan continues with your encouragement.

The song starts and finishes quietly, Joochan not wanting to disrupt your work too much, but his heart feels lighter by the time he closes his mouth around the last bars. The roses look no worse for wear – your soft humming, barely audible beneath Joochan’s quiet song, seems to have sustained them – and you wear a soft smile on your face that fairly glows under the moonlight. “That was beautiful,” you praise.

Joochan feels blood rush up to his ears. “Thank you, but I never had any formal training,” he says, dipping his head. “I’m nowhere near your level.”

“I know.” Your eyes twinkle when he looks over at you in surprised confusion. “I can tell you haven’t had lessons. It’s something in…” You pause, contemplating a rose. “Something in your technique. It’s a little lacking.” You look up from the bloom. “But regardless, your voice has a very raw power. That can’t be learned. If you had any training at all, I think you might sing as well as your brother, Your Highness.”

“You’ve heard him sing?” Joochan tries not to feel jealous.

You hum a short melody to a bud, which eagerly responds to your song. “Once or twice, at festivals.” Your gaze turns to him, still teasing. “I watched you play your instruments at those same festivals too, you know.”

Joochan flushes again. Was he that obvious?

From the glint in your eye and the restrained smile on your lips, the answer is yes. Thankfully, you don’t push it. “Would you sing again?” you ask instead. “Your voice truly is wonderful, Your Highness.”

Courage bursts in Joochan’s chest and he opens his mouth. “Will you teach me to sing?”

You blink. “You already know how to sing? Your Highness.”

“You said my technique was lacking.” Joochan plays with several blades of grass nervously. “Could you give me pointers? Or at least tell me what you think is the problem?”

“I – Your Highness, I’m not a professional.” Moonlight shines on your face, uncertainty now painted across your lips. “I mean – I just – I don’t want to say anything wrong –”

“If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Joochan cuts in, already feeling regret for asking. His fingers wrap around a blade of grass. It comes away in his hand. “But…”

You cock your head, listening cautiously.

His voice grows small. “You’re the only one who can listen to me without dying.”

Silence falls after his admission. Joochan doesn’t dare look at you for fear of pity or rejection in your eyes.

“I… will try.” You meet Joochan’s wide eyes, uncertainty still present in your own. “I mean, I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

Joochan almost reaches out to touch your arm, touch your hand, anything in thanks, but he restrains himself. You’re already probably uncomfortable enough. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t force you,” he repeats, despite the hope filling his chest.

“No, I want to.” Uncertainty fades in favor of a gentle smile. “I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Joochan breathes. “Thank you so much.”

“It is my honor,” you reply, dipping your head. When you raise it, there’s a twinkle in your eye. “Now sing, yes? I can’t critique you without a song.”

Joochan has never opened his mouth faster.

. . . . .

With you so uncertain, Joochan wasn’t honestly expecting too much from you as a vocal instructor. You seemed so hesitant about the whole affair – he only really hoped for a few basic tips every now and then. Maybe, as he just got more used to singing, he would get better naturally.

But that first night, you give him a lesson, a whole lesson like the ones his paid instructors give. Open your mouth a little more, Your Highness, close it here. Hey, try a falsetto – see, it sounds much better like that, right? Don’t strain your throat too much, Your Highness. Your voice doesn’t only come from the throat, it comes from the body. Use your chest – yes, that’s it. You’ll have to practice this more on your own, but don’t be discouraged if you don’t get it in one night. It took me weeks to master it.

You’re a good teacher. Really good. Joochan would even hazard to say you’re better than some of the royal tutors and instructors he’s had over the years, and by the time the moon has fully risen and you decide it’s been long enough, Joochan feels like he’s soaring among the stars.

“Remember to practice,” you remind him before you part that night. “I may be the instructor, but it’s your voice.”

He does. Night after night, on those evenings he doesn’t steal away to the gardens to meet with you, Joochan runs through his scales and the vocal exercises you gave him the last time. He scribbles notes, questions, reminders on scraps of paper that he hides in his drawers but shows you on those lovely nights under the moon and stars, singing for you and the roses to hear.

“You’re dedicated,” you say one evening, smiling. “If I were a full-time instructor, I think I’d be blessed to have you as a student, Your Highness.”

Joochan colors at your praise. It makes him feel like one of the roses you tend, blossoming under the sound of your warm voice. “I have a good teacher,” he replies, focusing hard on one of the blooms to avoid your eyes. It’s fully open, silky petals spread wide under the moon. Little stripes of white sparkle like stars on the midnight blue. “How are you so good at this? Who taught you?”

For several seconds, you don’t reply. It’s long enough that Joochan looks up, heart beating uncertainly in his chest. Did he say something wrong? “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s not something –”

“No, it’s okay.” You swallow, not even noticing you interrupted him (the first time you did, Joochan had to reassure you over and over that it was completely fine). Joochan stays still as your lips thin, eyes trained on the bud you’ve been coaxing open. “My father taught me.”

Your father. From the forced flatness in your tone, Joochan gathers there’s something more behind your words. He stays silent, waiting to see if you’ll continue.

You do. “My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my father for as long as I can remember.” Your smile doesn’t look like a smile, more of a pained gash across your face. Involuntarily, Joochan shudders. “He was a real vocal instructor. Taught me most of what I know of healing, and all that I know of singing.”

Snip. Joochan flinches as a leaf goes fluttering to the ground, cut off by your shears.

“He died when I was eighteen,” you say bluntly, shears held in a vice grip. “Without him, I came to the capital to… you know. Try my luck. I was always a better gardener than a physical healer, so I worked at some of the noble estates before someone recommended me here.”

So that’s the pain. Joochan clenches his fist. That’s the pain that helped you understand even vaguely how he feels, unable to release his song. Different types of pain, yes, but similar in intensity.

He tries to imagine what it would be like to lose Bomin, Jangjun, Jaehyun. Knives seem to dig into his chest.

Your pain is probably even more intense.

“And, well.” Your voice interrupts Joochan’s thoughts. He looks up as you shrug, smile sardonic. “Here I am.”

Joochan swallows, picking at the grass. He knows how empty his words will sound before he even says them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault.” Your smile is understanding, though, even in its sadness. A bit of a teasing tone finds its way into your voice. “You sure apologize a lot, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Hearing the mischief in your words, Joochan would normally feel a smile beginning to creep up his own face. This time, though, a little needle wedges itself into his ribs, deep enough to wound even if not enough to kill.

You’re right. He does apologize a lot. It’s kind of hard to stop when he’s been made to apologize for his entire existence.

“I apologize.”

Joochan looks up at your words. You hold his gaze, unflinching. “I apologize,” you repeat again. “I assumed a level of familiarity that we haven’t reached yet.” This time, you look away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s not –” Joochan swallows. “It’s not about familiarity. It’s… other things.”

He catches the exact moment your eyes widen, the exact moment you understand. Your mouth twists and you look away again, though Joochan sees shame in the thin press of your lips. “I understand,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he says automatically, the same way he does to Bomin. The words leave a bitter aftertaste – it never gets easier, absolving people of blame they never even incurred. His mind searches for a way to change the topic. He’s good at that. “As for familiarity…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

An idea pops into his thoughts, an idea he’s been toying with for a while but that he was too shy to suggest. “Don’t call me Your Highness anymore,” he says boldly. “Just call me Joochan.”

It takes a moment for you to process, but then you scoff. “You’re funny, Your Highness.”

“Joochan.”

“Your Highness.”

Unconsciously, he pouts. “You were the one who brought up the topic of familiarity,” he points out. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”

“Ever heard of too much of a good thing?” you retort, putting down your shears. “Too much familiarity won’t mean good things for either me or you, Your Highness.”

“Joochan,” he corrects. “And does that mean you think us being familiar is a good thing?”

You groan. “Walked right into that one,” you mutter. Joochan grins, but you’re not done. “Your Highness, there’s a level of respect I have to maintain for you and your position. I’m sorry, but me calling you by your given name is not something I see myself doing in the foreseeable future.”

Joochan’s pout deepens. “We’ll see about that.”

“Is that a challenge, Your Highness?”

“And if it is?”

You pinch a bud between your fingers, scrutinizing it under the moonlight. Your head turns just slightly so Joochan can see the twinkle in your eye. “Then, Your Highness, I’m afraid you’ll be fighting a losing battle.”

. . . . .

Joochan thinks you might have underestimated his stubbornness.

“Your Highness, don’t you have better things to be doing than bothering me all night?” you ask, pausing in your humming to face him. “Royal duties and whatnot? Or, I don’t know – sleeping?”

“I feel like we’re becoming more familiar even if you refuse to call me by my name,” Joochan says obnoxiously. “What happened to propriety? Speaking respectfully to a prince?”

You pat some soil into place. A few nearby blades of grass seem to perk up when you hum briefly. “Calling you by your title is about the last mark of respect I’m still giving you,” you point out. “Do you really want that taken away, too?”

“Why not just let it go, if we’re already that far?” he counters. “Jaehyun calls me by my name when we’re alone. So does Jangjun.”

“Jaehyun…” You frown, then snap your fingers. “Is he that servant? You know, the puppy-eyed one?”

Joochan blinks. Jaehyun does have large eyes like those of a puppy. “… Yes? I think so.”

You look sidelong at Joochan. “If it helps, I like your eyes too, Your Highness.” Your gaze narrows teasingly. “They’re sharper. Like a fox.”

Joochan’s cheeks burn. “What –”

You burst into a peal of laughter. “Work on not pouting when you want attention,” you say, grinning.

Too late, Joochan realizes his lips have unconsciously turned downwards into a pout. He lifts them immediately, cursing internally – no wonder he’s so easy to read. “Don’t change the subject,” he says, catching himself again before the corners of his lips fall. “Why can’t you just call me by my name like Jangjun and Jaehyun?”

“You’ve likely known them far longer than I’ve known you and you’ve known me, Your Highness.” You put down your small shovel. “It makes perfect sense that you could convince them to bow to your whims, if you’ve been friends for as long as you say.”

Joochan gives up on suppressing his pout. “It’s not a whim,” he says. “I really do want you to call me Joochan.”

“Be that as it may, it isn’t proper, Your Highness, and I’d rather not get scolded for accidentally calling you by something above my station on accident.” Your eyes narrow. “Actually, is something wrong, Your Highness?” you ask, the teasing bite fading out of your voice. “You aren’t usually this forward about just your name.”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He knows you’re perceptive, has known it ever since you rooted out that little bit of jealousy at the mention of Bomin’s singing, but as admirable as it is, he sometimes wishes you couldn’t read him so easily. “What, you don’t like it?”

“You’re deflecting.” Leaning forward, you fix him with your gaze. “What’s bothering you, Your Highness?”

Lots of things. There are only a few months until Donghyun’s family comes back for the second round of forced courtship. His parents are giving him more unwanted attention – asking about his studies in their cold, uninterested voices, reminding him of his duties every time his lip so much as twitches in rebellion.

And earlier in the day, he had the first fitting for his wedding clothes.

Joochan shudders, remembering white silk sliding over his arms, pins poking all over his body as the fabric tightened against his skin, smooth, cold, cloying around his throat and shoulders and torso. It was only the shirt for today – there are still the pants and coat and jewelry, not to mention different hairstyles and makeup combinations to try, all so his parents can get him out of the palace once and for all – and just thinking of how much there is left to do makes Joochan want to throw up.

“Your Highness?”

Your voice, full of concern, brings Joochan back to earth. “Sorry.” He blinks the memories out of his eyes. Gods, he has another fitting in a week, even though the wedding is still months away. “I – yes. Some things are bothering me.” He curves his lips into the imitation of a smile. “I’ll be fine, though, if you would just stop being stubborn and call me by my name.”

By the look in your eyes, you don’t believe him, but thankfully you don’t push it any further. “I’m the stubborn one?” You scoff lightly. “Who’s the one who’s been pressuring me to stop using your title this whole time? I didn’t bring it up.”

“Please?” Joochan asks, making sure to pout as fully as he can. “Please?”

Something breaks in your expression and you shake your head, suppressing a smile. Joochan’s heart lifts in victory –

“No.”

His jaw drops. “You –”

“I’m kidding.” You turn back to him, eyes sparkling. “If it really will make you happier, I’ll stop calling you by your title, Your –” You catch yourself. “Joochan.”

Something bursts in Joochan’s heart when he hears his name from your voice, sweet, clear, songlike in the melody of your tones. A rose in bloom, perhaps, petals unfurling from the bud at his name on your lips…

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His words tremble slightly despite his attempted bravado.

You smirk. “Almost sounds like it was harder for you, Joochan.”

Damn your perception. “Am I going to regret this?”

Your smirk deepens. “Whatever happens, just know you brought it on yourself.”

. . . . .

“You look happier,” Bomin remarks one afternoon.

Joochan looks over. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” His brother nods. “There’s more… something.” Bomin waves his hands around aimlessly. “Something in your face. And in the way you walk.”

“Something.” Joochan snorts. “Is that what all of those literature and speech lessons are teaching you to say?”

“Shut up,” Bomin snips, pushing him away. His gaze turns more serious. “I’m glad.”

Joochan blinks. “Glad about what?”

“You being happy.” Bomin smiles. “Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over?” He shoves his face into Joochan’s. “Exchanging romantic letters?”

The grin freezes on Joochan’s face as visions of you flash through his mind. Dark nights, pale moonlight, stars shimmering on your eyes and hands as you hum a melody that twines with his, keeping the roses in a delicate balance between alive and withering away…

He could tell Bomin. His brother is a secret-keeper to the last and knows how to act. But something tells Joochan that he would disapprove is he said anything, and even if that wasn’t the case, there’s a selfish desire to keep you to himself.

Joochan doesn’t want to share this… whatever it is, between you and him.

“Something like that,” he lies.

And for some reason, Bomin looks like he believes it.

. . . . .

Except, apparently, he doesn’t.

. . . . .

There is no moon when Joochan steps onto the balcony, peering over the edge to see whether or not you’re there, pruning the bushes. You don’t often come out during new moons – something about the absence of light not inspiring your song – but Joochan checks anyway.

To his surprise, he sees a sliver of movement, a flash of metal just beyond the balcony that looks like your shovel or your shears. It doesn’t take long for Joochan to sneak out of his room and into the garden grounds, a smile on his face as he rounds a corner to see –

“Joochan.”

Jangjun?

His guard steps forward, arms crossed and eyes visibly narrowed even in the darkness. Starlight shines coldly on his face. “Who are you meeting out here every other night?”

Stall? Lie? Joochan keeps his mouth resolutely shut as his mind races for something to say. He can’t mention you, can’t bring you into this mess that you never asked for, but Jangjun has known him for so long and might even be more perceptive than you so what kind of lie will even sound believable when Joochan is right here in the garden like he was expecting someone –

Jangjun’s eyes widen with realization and Joochan’s stomach plummets. “You’re meeting that gardener. The one you were talking with when Donghyun’s sister was here.”

Joochan just stares. How did he figure it out so fast?

“Tell me it isn’t true, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward, lips pursed. Any sign of his usual mischief has fled from his eyes. “Joochan.”

He stays silent.

“Gods.” Jangjun rubs his temples, the metal of his arm guards catching the faint starlight. Damn, that was what fooled him. “Joochan, seriously? What are you doing with them? You weren’t lying before, right – they’re not blackmailing you or anything?”

Joochan ignores all of his guard’s questions in favor of his own. “How did you know I was sneaking out?”

Jangjun sighs. “I don’t know why you still sometimes think you can lie to Bomin.”

Bomin?

A conversation from two weeks before flutters into Joochan’s mind.

“Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over? Exchanging romantic letters?”

“Something like that.”

Bomin. Joochan shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, trying to dissipate the flames of anger beginning to lick in his chest. Of course it was Bomin. Bomin sees through everything.

And right now, Joochan hates that.

“So Bomin sent you to figure out what was going on with me.” He laughs, short, bitter. “Even though he said I was happier, he still –”

“You lied to him, Joochan,” Jangjun cuts in. “You never lie to him and he never lies to you.”

“So maybe I lied for a reason!” Joochan snaps. “Seriously – why is it that you can’t just leave me alone like my parents –”

“Because we care about you!”

“Then why are you trying to cut off the reason I’ve been happy?”

Silence follows his outburst. Jangjun actually takes a small step back. Joochan clenches his fist and takes a deep breath. Calm down.

He closes his eyes. Breathes. Opens them again. “So what are you going to do now?” he snaps. “Report to Bomin about my actions? Report to my parents?”

“Joochan –”

“Actually, don’t.” He scoffs. “I’ll go talk to Bomin myself. And Jangjun, even if you won’t leave me alone about this, listen to me on one thing.” Joochan steps forward. “Do not bring Y/N into this.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms back into the palace.

. . . . .

Bomin’s attendant, Sanha, opens the door with a confused expression. “Your Highness?”

“Where’s Bomin?” Joochan demands, brushing past.

His brother pops out from behind one of the doors, eyebrows furrowed. “Joochan?”

Joochan bites his tongue to keep from shouting right then and there. “Dismissed,” he says bluntly, barely returning Sanha’s low bow. The door shuts.

And Joochan snaps.

“You sent my own guard to spy on me?” he yells. “With all the spies our parents have in the palace, you seriously sent Jangjun after me – my literal guard and one of the few people I trust – because you thought I told one lie?”

“I was worried!” Bomin says, eyes wide. “Joochan, you never lie to me –”

“Don’t tell me that’s it,” Joochan snarls. “There’s no way this is the only time you’ve ever thought I lied – if you sent Jangjun after me every time –” his eyes narrow – “unless you did –”

Bomin shakes his head wildly. “No! It’s just – I’m worried about with you and Donghyun’s sister!” He steps forward, eyes pleading. “Joochan, if your marriage doesn’t go through –”

Joochan laughs into his hand. “You too?”

“… What?”

“It’s always my marriage, my stupid marriage,” he rants, voice rising. Thank the gods for thick stone walls. “Has anyone ever considered that I don’t want it, I don’t fucking want it –”

“It’s your escape, Joochan!” Bomin snaps. “It’s your ticket out of this palace, so you can be free from –”

“From what?” Joochan laughs, high and mirthless. “From what?”

“From us!”

“And you’d have me gain my freedom by forcing me from one prison to another?”

Bomin’s mouth snaps shut.

“I can’t do anything because I have this stupid curse,” Joochan snarls. “I’m the unwanted son – don’t argue with me, you know it’s true – it doesn’t matter that I’m the oldest, I’ve literally been passed over for the crown because of it! And I don’t even care about that – all I fucking care about is being able to sing and of course I can’t do that either because people will drop dead half a second after I open my mouth – remember my first voice instructor? You think that’ll change once I get married? You think that’ll change?” He scoffs. “Donghyun and his family don’t know for a reason! And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because singing around them would make them drop dead too!”

Tears have begun to burn in Joochan’s eyes. He blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay, but months of pent-up rage and anger only make them push harder. Bomin’s eyes shine – they look watery, too – but Joochan turns away with thinned lips. He doesn’t have the energy to apologize to his brother, much less comfort him. It isn’t even his turn to be comforted.

“You don’t understand,” Joochan manages when the silence has grown too thick. “I love you, Bomin, and I know you love me too, but just like I’ll never understand the pressures of being the crown prince, you won’t understand what it’s like not to be able to sing.” He swallows. “You couldn’t even heal that sort of pain. And just when I’ve found someone who can listen…”

When Bomin sucks in a breath, Joochan realizes what he’s said. He panics, mind scrambling for a way to cover up his slip of the tongue – Joochan, you absolute idiot –

But it’s already too late to take anything back.

“You – someone can listen to your song?” Bomin whispers, almost as though he can’t believe it. “How…?”

Joochan groans, putting his head against the wall. Why can’t he do anything right? “It was an accident,” he says shortly, brushing away the stray tears that have fallen.

“But how –”

“Don’t ask me about it,” Joochan snaps, whirling around. His previous anger comes back in full force – not anger at Bomin, at least not as much, more anger at himself for not controlling his mouth, but it’s easier to direct it at his brother. “And don’t send my own guard after me for any more answers. If you think I’m lying, say it to my face, Bomin.”

Before his brother can say another word, Joochan throws open the door and stalks out.

. . . . .

Joochan doesn’t know what to do about you.

Well, there isn’t anything to do about you, per se. He just doesn’t know how to convey that he let things slip and now both Jangjun and his brother have more knowledge than they need, and maybe you two should hold off meeting for a little while.

You aren’t supposed to come around for a few days or so – you and Joochan have worked out a rough sort of schedule based on when the roses need tending and how often he wants a singing lesson – which should give him a few days to work something out. Instead, all he uses the time for is to sulk.

He’s still annoyed at both Jangjun and Bomin. More so at his brother because Jangjun has less leeway when given orders (which were given by Bomin in the first place), but still both of them. Bomin stays quiet when Joochan is near and Jangjun doesn’t even attempt conversation, though Joochan catches him staring over sometimes with a strange look on his face. He doesn’t bother to question it.

By the time night has begun to fall on day three, Joochan still has nothing. He debated going to the sheds and trying to find you there, but that would draw attention from anyone else who happened to be present, and also Jangjun never leaves his side. He tried to catch you in the gardens on the off chance that Jangjun isn’t looking, but you seem to disappear when he’s there – it’s like you magically end up on the opposite side of the palace grounds when he’s looking for you on the other.

In the end, all Joochan has is a rolled up piece of paper and a long piece of string that he hopes will reach the garden from his balcony. He hopes you can read. It’s not that uncommon anymore for commoners anymore, but there are still some. You were the one who wrote him that first note, though, so he isn’t too worried about that.

He’s more worried you’ll be angry with him.

Night comes. You appear at the end of the garden. Joochan waits on the balcony, heart ready to beat out of his chest, and sings a brief note when you get closer.

You look up. The waxing moon glows on your face.

Swallowing, Joochan waves a hand in the air, the hand holding the rolled up note attached to the string. He walks to the edge of the balcony and lets it drop.

The string tenses slightly, then goes lax. You’ve pulled it off and are hopefully reading it. His explanation, his apologies, his understanding if you don’t want anything to do with him anymore out of fear of your own safety…

Nothing happens. Joochan’s heart keeps pounding. You make no sound, no indication that you read anything he wrote –

Then the first bars of a song wisp through the air. Your voice flutters up to the balcony, soft and warm and inviting, singing words of forgiveness, melody soothing to his ears. It’s a little thin, laid slightly bare from the distance separating you, but Joochan latches onto the notes, sitting against the balcony rail and closing his eyes to the sound of your voice.

Your song tapers away eventually. Joochan swallows around a lump in his throat when it ends, fully expecting you to pack up your things and go once you’ve finished tending to the roses (it shouldn’t take as long as usual today since he’s not singing), but the ensuing silence almost has an expectant quality to it.

Like you’re waiting for something in reply.

Joochan clears the lump from his throat. Opens his mouth. Begins to hum softly to wake up his voice, then starts singing back.

It’s strange, not hearing your voice meld with his. You must be humming a little to keep the roses alive, but from his balcony, Joochan can’t hear it. After so many nights of singing duets with you, changing your melodies to fit the other’s, it feels a little strange to listen to himself sing like this in the open air. But he continues until the end of what he has, voice fading into the night.

A beat of silence follows. Then you begin singing again, but it’s a familiar melody this time – one of those that you like to use as a starting point for Joochan to follow, letting your voices twist and harmonize until you’ve created something new together, something fleeting but beautiful in its improvisation.

“You won’t remember the melody afterwards,” you say, cutting off a branch. “But you’ll remember the feeling, and sometimes that’s more important. Music is about making people feel, after all.”

Feeling. Joochan feels a lot, day by day. It’s part of being human. Tonight, singing an ephemeral melody with you…

He feels at peace.

. . . . .

Weeks pass. Joochan tries to live on his biweekly duets on the balcony with you. It won’t fill the void of not being able to talk to you – it’s just more natural to moderate the volume of his song, whereas calling down from a balcony would be more of a hassle – but it’s enough to hear your voice. Or so Joochan tries to tell himself.

(You sometimes leave him notes with the new flower replacements, white paper nestled between dark green thorns and midnight blue petals. Joochan puts them in the box under his mattress where he keeps his most treasured belongings and threads a hair between the lock to make sure no one gets in.)

Jangjun apologizes. So does Bomin. Joochan accepts it – he can’t stay too upset at them for long – and they go back to normal, Jangjun snickering whenever Joochan trips over a rock, Bomin suffering through Joochan pinching his cheeks whenever he so pleases.

Yeah. Normal.

Until weeks have somehow flown by and Donghyun’s family is arriving at the palace gates once more for the second stage of courtship.

They arrive late in the night, so Joochan thankfully isn’t required to be awake to receive them. Their meeting will be at dinner the next day, giving the entourage more than enough time to freshen up, which just means Joochan has more hours to sit on the floor of his rooms after lessons and stare at nothing while he waits for his impending doom.

He knows he’s being dramatic. But he also knows that he really, really, really doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, even more so than before.

His gaze lights on the latest bouquet of flowers sitting on his desk. The roses are white this time, interspersed with light pink blooms. You probably didn’t choose them – there was no note – but they’re pretty, anyway, even if they aren’t the night-blooming roses growing under Joochan’s balcony.

Joochan walks over to the flowers. Contemplates them for a moment. Picks up one of the white roses, imagines it in his fiancée’s hands as she walks down the aisle…

Thankfully, a knock sounds on his door before he has enough time to imagine more. Getting overly dressed for dinner is preferable to locking himself within his mind.

But then dinner actually comes.

And Joochan literally does not know what to do with himself.

His parents keep up chatter at the other end of the table, of course, all polite greetings and inquiries about the trip and we hope your quarters have been to your liking despite the fact that Donghyun’s family stayed in the exact same set of rooms last time they came and liked them just as much back then. Not to mention that said rooms are the fanciest guest rooms in the entire palace. If they weren’t satisfied, Joochan doesn’t know what would work for them.

Meanwhile, at his end of the table, Joochan is trying very hard not to make so much as a single noise against his plate or cup because if he does, everyone will look at him and he’ll be forced to break the awkward silence.

It’s even worse than the first time. At least then, Donghyun was still smiling, and his sister attempted conversation with Joochan. Bomin was fairly able to put people at ease when even Joochan’s social tendencies failed. But now there’s a tense set to Donghyun’s jaw, a burning anger in his sister’s eyes, and Joochan can’t think of anything he might’ve done wrong considering he hasn’t seen them in months. He’s sent letters to both and acted (at least outwardly) like he was fine with this arrangement. He hasn’t done anything to his parents’ knowledge that would indicate he’s opposed to it – he knows that because if he had, he would’ve gotten a scolding and maybe something worse –

Joochan winces as an old scar on his back suddenly twitches with pain. Bomin looks over, concerned, but Joochan quickly schools his face back to neutrality. Damn the memories.

“Is anything not to your liking?” Bomin asks quietly, bravely breaking the silence. His gaze flits uncertainly between Donghyun and his sister.

Both of them blink in tandem. Donghyun’s face relaxes a little and some of the anger fades from his sister’s eyes, their lips upturning slightly in sheepish surprise. “No, not at all,” his sister replies. “I apologize. The trip was long, and some of our nerves are… frayed.”

Judging from the shadow that passes through Donghyun’s eyes, “frayed” is a weak way to put it.

The silence, lifts though, and they converse more normally after that. Joochan catches a flicker of relief in his father’s eyes when they meet for the briefest moment, and even his mother gives a tiny nod of approval when the excruciating meal is finally over.

Everyone splits off, then, to do whatever they have in their plans for the night. Joochan and Bomin take a walk in the garden. Donghyun and his sister disappear to who-knows-where. It’s peaceful. More or less.

Until Joochan and Bomin are returning (they didn’t see you) to their quarters for bed and they happen to pass by the guest rooms, where shouts echo faintly behind closed doors. With unspoken agreement, the brothers start walking quickly down the hall, trying not to listen to what the other pair of siblings is saying.

Then a door flies open and catches Joochan in the face as his fiancée storms out in a swirl of skirts and fury.

For a moment, there is only dead silence as everyone tries to comprehend what just happened. Joochan brings a hand to his nose. It comes away bloody.

Great.

“Gods above,” his fiancée whispers. “Your Highness – Joochan – I’m so sorry –” She turns to Bomin, who still looks like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “Where’s the infirmary?”

So Joochan ends up sitting on the edge of a white infirmary bed, pinching his nose between large bundles of gauze. Bomin has gone off, presumably to tell Donghyun what happened, and Joochan’s fiancée sits next to him, wringing her hands in apology even as he tells her over and over again that it’s fine – actually, it’s even a little funny.

Bomin will definitely be teasing Joochan about this by tomorrow.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, staring into her lap. “I was just so angry – I didn’t see you –”

“I’m fine,” Joochan repeats, voice still slightly distorted by the residual pain in his nose. “If you were as upset as you sounded, I completely understand.”

She stiffens. “I – you heard us?”

“Not much.” Joochan winces in embarrassment. “I could only hear that you were yelling, neither I nor Bomin could actually make out anything. The walls here are thick.” For a reason.

Relief floods her face. Joochan looks at her for a moment, trying to see if it’s anything he should be worried about, but he turns away. He’d be alarmed if anyone heard any of his arguments with Bomin, after all, even if they were light.

One of the physicians comes in soon after. His nose doesn’t look to be majorly injured, so he sings Joochan a brief, warm melody that stops the bleeding (his voice isn’t as pretty as yours, though) and sends him on his way. Donghyun’s sister helps him wipe away the last of the dried blood, and then they walk back down to the guest rooms, where Joochan bids her goodnight.

She pauses before entering her quarters, though. “I just remembered – could we take a walk in the gardens tomorrow, Joochan?” Her eyes sparkle strangle, a mix of eagerness and muted anxiety. “I couldn’t forget watching the flowers bloom over these past few months.”

Joochan blinks. “Of course,” he says, even though his mind whirls with possible reasons behind the sudden request. The flowers are beautiful, of course, and there are new varieties blossoming with the change of seasons, but the anxiousness etched into the set of your lips speaks of something more than wishing to listen to some song. “In the afternoon? We can take a walk after lunch.”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiles. “Thank you, Joochan.”

He returns the smile. “It’s no problem.”

. . . . .

Everyone seems surprised when Joochan leaves together with his fiancée after lunch, citing a stroll in the garden, but it isn’t bad surprise. Bomin looks interested, Donghyun less annoyed, and Joochan even catches something like satisfaction in his parents’ eyes as they sweep out of the room.

It makes his stomach curdle a little inside.

Joochan starts the conversation, idly talking about the new season and which flowers the gardeners have begun putting into the ground. The air is crisper, cooler, and Joochan takes comfort in the breeze against his cheeks as he walks her around the grass, pausing every so often to listen to one of the gardeners sing. She doesn’t speak much, but at least the singing seems to make her look a little happier.

They pass by the stretch where Joochan’s balcony is, providing a spot of shade under the afternoon sun. Joochan tries to hurry past – he doesn’t want questions about the roses now stretching across the walls, blooming beautifully from your song – but then his fiancée gasps in surprise. “The roses!”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He doesn’t know what it is – it doesn’t feel good, like a cross between fear and anxiety and… he can’t figure it out. None of it. But his fiancée is looking at him and he has to put on a smile so he curves his lips and nods, trying to ignore the feeling. “Yes, one of the newer gardeners managed to make them grow. You met them last time.” He tries to ignore the feeling in his heart, even as it tightens its hold. “Y/N.”

Y/N. You. You made them grow with your gentle hands and lovely voice. You made them grow despite Joochan’s cursed song, molded your melodies with his so they wouldn’t kill so easily, wouldn’t act so much the curse they were always meant to be…

He swallows, trying to banish all thoughts of you from his mind. For the first time on one of his walks in the garden, Joochan feels guiltily glad that he hasn’t seen you.

You and his fiancée don’t exactly coexist well in his thoughts, for reasons Joochan doesn’t have the time or energy to pick apart.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispers, clearly oblivious to Joochan’s internal conflict. She steps forward until they’re both under the shade of the balcony, marveling at the midnight blue roses streaked with white, galaxies in the night sky. “Do they bloom year round?”

“Yes, this variety does.” Joochan rubs a soft petal between his fingers, trying to recall just how many nights have passed since he last saw you face to face instead of just hearing your voice from up above. Too many, probably. “They wilt a little more easily in winter, but they can still grow if the snow isn’t too heavy.”

She hums in acknowledgement, still staring at the flowers. Her fingers twitch near a couple of the blooms, but she doesn’t do anything more than touch their petals.

Oh. She wants to pick one, maybe. Take it back to her rooms. Admire it.

For some reason, the thought of your flowers in his fiancée’s hands and in her rooms makes the feeling in Joochan’s chest intensify.

His lips fight hard to stay in a neutral smile as he reaches out, fingers trembling, to snap off one of the flowers just above the crown of five leaves at the base of the stem, the way you showed him how to so many weeks ago when he still met you under the moon and the stars, listened to your voice wash over the plants and his ears next to you, not from far away. Carefully, as his fiancée watches, Joochan pulls off the thorns, all the while trying not to feel like he’s betraying your song, your art, then nestles the bloom gently behind her ear. “For you,” he chokes, forcibly ignoring the tightness in his chest.

She touches the rose gently, fingers brushing against the petals. She looks beautiful in that moment, eyes shining, figure lovely against the green garden and sunlight, and not for the first time, Joochan wishes he could have just fallen in love with her. It would make things so much easier.

But the knowledge that he’d have no freedom in this marriage even if he was able to love, keeps his heart from racing too fast in her presence. He couldn’t fall in love with Donghyun’s sister, never – there are too many secrets and hidden agendas behind their match.

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. For a moment, her eyes sparkle with true peace, true happiness, and Joochan feels a little happier for her. But then a shadow falls over her gaze and she looks away, hand falling limply from the rose to her side. Silence stretches.

“Shall we keep going?” Joochan finally says once he feels uncomfortable enough that he needs to speak. Thankfully, she nods, the smile reappearing on her face as he takes her arm once more, leading her out of the shade and into the sun.

He tries not to look at the midnight blue rose he tucked behind her ear as he forces conversation. “Do you truly like the flowers here?”

“I love them,” she says earnestly. Joochan can tells she’s speaking the truth. “My kingdom has flowers too, but for some reason, the ones here just… they’re so much brighter. Livelier.” She smiles briefly. “Maybe it’s the song.”

Joochan knows what he should say next. He should say something like, “when we’re married, we’ll have a garden of our own,” something that a fiancé in love with his future wife would say.

He’s not in love, but he says it anyway. Because he should. And he thinks maybe the thought of a garden for herself will make her smile a little more, even if the marriage he mentions isn’t anything she wants.

At least, he thinks it isn’t what she wants. She’s polite enough and hasn’t said anything to indicate it, but body language and silence sometimes speak more than words.

Her smile turns smaller, lips pressing together as she shifts away from him, ever so slightly. Joochan confirms his suspicions. “That would be lovely.”

The expression on her face indicates anything but. And even though she was the one who initiated the walk, was the one who seemed to want to talk, she doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon. 

Neither does Joochan. 

. . . . .

Several days fly by in a blur. There’s another ball next week, even bigger than the last – Joochan will present the second courting gift to his fiancée, as per his kingdom’s tradition (the first was sent on a long time ago), and she will engage him for the first dance, as per hers. On the one night you two are scheduled to meet, Joochan lowers down a note saying I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m exhausted tonight – I can barely stay awake long enough to write this.

You’ve taken to bringing a stub of a pencil with you on these nights so that your communication isn’t only by song. This time is no exception, and Joochan quickly lifts up the string at your subtle tug.

Need a lullaby?

Your voice almost soothes him to sleep on the balcony.

He gets through the next couple of days, gets through the last minute fittings for new clothes (as if he needs more), opinions on the appetizer menu (shouldn’t they be asking the cooks?), what flowers would fit best the theme best (they bring in a vase of night-blooming roses and all Joochan can think of is you). Joochan tries to go through it with a smile on his face – he doesn’t trip over his fiancée’s feet or skirts when they have their lessons, which makes Youngtaek seem a little more satisfied – but when the night of the ball actually arrives, Joochan almost fights Jaehyun when his servant comes to drag him out of bed.

The flowers in his room were replaced about a week ago, yellow and red tulips forming a bright sunburst on his desk. Perhaps someone was just trying to cheer him up. Or maybe they somehow knew his fiancée’s favorite flowers were tulips and decided to make a little joke.

Joochan tries not to look at their slightly wilted stems. They only remind him of a certain night-blooming rose whose face he hasn’t seen in weeks.

He wears a dark suit, deep blue trimmed with silver embroidery around the shoulders and cuffs. Jaehyun puts a few last touches on his makeup and hands Joochan an earring, telling him to put it in – “You’re the servant, shouldn’t you be dressing me?” “Are your fingers that inept, Your Royal Highness?” – before taking the prince’s crown off the pillow it was delivered on, silver and jewels glinting in the evening light filtering through the window. The cold weight settles on Joochan’s head.

“There,” Jaehyun says softly. “You’re ready.”

Joochan lifts his gaze to the mirror. A young man stares back, faded pink hair swept elegantly off his forehead, an earring glinting just above his shoulder. Makeup around his eyes makes them darker, more piercing, and he wears a fine blue suit, slim silver chains draping over the shoulders and around the neck. The jewels in the crown sparkle brilliantly, even in the fading light.

He swallows hard. The young man copies the movement. He averts his eyes, clenching his fist.

This man in the mirror, the man Joochan knows is himself, looks fine and elegant and handsome, almost exactly what a prince should be. If he didn’t know he was cursed, Joochan might even dare to say he was the perfect model of royalty, second only to maybe his brother.

He’s never hated it more.

Jangjun’s characteristic knock sounds at the door before Joochan can take more time to hate himself. Jaehyun helps him out of the chair and squeezes his shoulder slightly, their previous teasing mood forgotten in the wake of what they both know Joochan has to do next. With a brief “good luck” and “thanks,” Joochan opens the door.

Both of Jangjun’s eyes rise the second he sees Joochan. “Looking good, Your Highness.”

Joochan scoffs lightly. “You just want me to say you look good too, right?”

He does look good. Few people are blind to the fact that Jangjun is actually very handsome, and Joochan has caught more than a few servants staring sometimes when he walks down a hall, his guard stepping along right beside him. With him dressed as a partygoer instead of in his usual uniform, Joochan thinks his guard will attract even more stares than usual tonight, but Jangjun doesn’t need the ego boost. He can live without it.

“Caught.” Jangjun’s eyes crinkle into a smirk. “But I know I look good, so I don’t need you to say it.” The smile fades, replaced with determination and concern. “Ready to go?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan steps further into the hallway. Briefly, he wonders how people would react if he tripped while presenting the gift to Donghyun’s sister. “Come on.”

. . . . .

He doesn’t trip. The princess gets her gift without anything more than the usual fanfare, a circlet of gold with a moonstone set into the front that Joochan places on her head with hands shaking both from nervousness and just in general not wanting to be there. Whoever did her dressing left her hair devoid of accessories, thankfully, just some clips holding a few strands back, so Joochan doesn’t need to awkwardly remove things or try to fit the circlet around preexistent ornaments. One less thing to worry about.

He accepts his dances, too, sailing about the ballroom on feet much heavier than hers that seem to be made of air. No mistakes on his end, though – he notices Youngtaek nodding in approval somewhere in the watching crowd – and when they separate at the end of the ball with the last traditional song, Joochan feels satisfied, even if not happy, that he’s at least played his part well.

(It doesn’t matter that when he walks his fiancée back to her rooms and bids her goodnight, he sees the rose he picked for her standing upright in a vase, taunting him with memories of you.)

(It also doesn’t matter that when he returns to his own quarters, the wilting tulips that were on his desk have been replaced by a bouquet of midnight blue with a tiny note sticking out from behind the petals, almost blending in with a streak of starry white.

Sleep well.

Joochan lies awake for at least another hour.)

. . . . .

Because the gods have somehow managed to keep him from seeing you on his walks in the gardens, Joochan doesn’t feel too worried that you’ll meet when he wanders down to the flowers after another wedding suit fitting. He needs to feel sunshine on his skin, not cold silk and satin.

To his surprise, he meets Donghyun’s sister by a patch of roses, and at her suggestion, they continue on together, mostly keeping a comfortable silence. It chafes at Joochan a little – was there something she wanted to say last time, something that she can still say now? – but she doesn’t say anything about it, only admires the flowers. He follows suit.

Then Joochan rounds a corner, trailing his fingers along a vine that creeps up the stone palace walls, and sees a familiar figure kneeling over a small patch of tulips.

He freezes. No, there’s no way that can be you –

The figure’s head lifts, and Joochan catches their eye almost accidentally.

He’d know that face anywhere.

“Your Highnesses.” You bow low, stiff, formal. Joochan aches for even a bit of familiarity to bleed into your voice, your actions, but you keep your face neutral as he bids you to stand. He searches your eyes, your lips, for something, anything –

But there’s nothing. And Joochan understands. It isn’t just you and him, this time – his future wife stands at his arm, and you must maintain your composure.

His fiancée’s voice jerks Juyeon out of his thoughts. “I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we?” she smiles. “You sang beautifully the last time I was here.”

Your head dips in respect. “Thank you, Your Highness. Your words honor me.”

“Joochan told me you were the one who managed to make the roses bloom under the balcony where no other gardener succeeded,” she continues. Joochan hides a flinch when his name falls from her lips, startlingly casual and almost a slap in the face to you, who can’t use his name as you always do for fear of punishment. Something in your eyes flickers, too, but Joochan can’t do anything more than hope his silent apology reads clear in his gaze as his fiancée keep speaking. “Your gift is great.”

Again, you bow in thanks. Your eyes remain downcast, demure and humble, as you speak. The lightest hint of detached teasing colors your tone. “Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song, Your Highness.”

Donghyun’s sister clearly thinks you meant to teasingly brag about your own ability and she responds accordingly, laughing with a brightness he rarely sees on her face. But as she laughs, you lift your head slightly, fixing his gaze with yours.

Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song.

The right person’s song.

The right person…

Joochan stares into your eyes, watching them soften. You meant him, he’s certain, as self-centered as it sounds. By the right person, you meant him.

Oh. Oh, gods…

“I agree,” he replies softly. 

Only he thinks that the right person was you.

Your eyes widen for a split second as you take in Joochan’s meaning. Something cracks in your expression, something raw and beautiful and so, so sad, and Joochan tries to memorize it so he can pick it apart later on – why do you look so radiant and so defeated all at once as your eyes flicker to the laughing fiancée at his side –

The right person.

The right person…

No. No. Joochan swallows hard, breaking his gaze from yours as his mind races. Nights spent under the moon, talking, singing, laughing as you clipped roses and leaves and soothed him with your voice…

Joochan is not in love with you. He isn’t, he can’t be, not when his fiancée is literally standing on his arm –

Your gaze catches his once more, and Joochan barely manages not to lose himself in your eyes.

He’s in love with you. Completely, wholly in love with you –

In his mind’s eye, Joochan sees your gaze flicker over to his future wife, turning dark upon contact.

Oh.

Joochan is in love with you.

And you might be in love with him.

He almost falls with the realization. Only his fiancée’s grip on his arm keeps him from swaying forward. Joochan looks at you, drinking in the sight of your eyes and you let him, staring back with a fervor as great as his –

But Joochan’s fiancée has finished her peal of laughter and you both have to look away, your eyes clouding into something darker while Joochan fights the ache in his chest. “Well, we won’t disturb you further,” she says, seemingly oblivious to his pain. “Thank you for your time.”

You bow, and when you straighten, your eyes linger on Joochan for a second longer than it should. “The pleasure was all mine.”

. . . . .

Joochan lies awake that night and several more, still reeling with the sudden realization that he is in love not with the person that people would like him to love, but with a gardener whose voice makes him feel like a night-blooming rose, petals opening in the night, free to blossom and free to grow, free to sing without causing pain.

And this gardener is in love with him too.

He tries to hide it. No one really notices – he keeps up a joking banter with his brother and Donghyun, fights playfully with Jangjun, and performs his duties as a future husband without fail. But several times, he catches Bomin looking at him with a weird expression or Jangjun staring over out of the corner of his eye.

It might be easier if he could tell them what he’s done, how he feels. But both would probably disapprove – Jangjun already suspects something about you, and Bomin, though he now understands Joochan’s revulsion to the marriage, wouldn’t be happy about him having fallen in love with someone else. It will only hurt Donghyun’s sister, too, and she doesn’t deserve that.

When Joochan makes his way back to his rooms several nights later, debating whether or not to even go out onto the balcony because he still can’t think properly, he doesn’t expect Jangjun to stop him just outside the door, a strange expression on his face.

“Joochan.”

He blinks. “Jangjun?”

The guard’s eyes flicker. “Go see them.”

“I –” Joochan frowns. “What?”

“Go see them,” Jangjun repeats in a hushed whisper. “They make you happy, don’t they?” A faraway look comes into his eyes for the briefest second before it disappears. “And you can sing in front of them.”

Joochan’s eyes widen. “How did you –”

“Don’t get mad,” Jangjun says, holding up his hands. “Bomin told me what you let slip to him. I didn’t tell him anything about Y/N, I swear – I just put two and two together, and, well. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He holds Joochan’s gaze. “Don’t get mad at him. He’s just trying to understand. He hasn’t said a word to anyone else, not even Sanha.”

Joochan leans against the wall, trying to process all of the information. “I – Jangjun, what in the world –”

“Listen, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward. “I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.” His lips twist in a grimace of pain that Joochan barely has time to decipher. “If you’ve found someone who is able and willing to listen to your song, I’m not going to stop you.”

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

Joochan frowns. As far as Joochan knows, Jangjun is ungifted – he just doesn’t have magic. What part of himself would he have suppressed, and for what reason?

The look on his guard’s face convinces him not to ask.

Swallowing, Joochan takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the meaning behind Jangjun’s words. He wants him to go, to meet you in person under the moon and stars and sing to the roses until midnight. A sick feeling rises in Joochan’s stomach. If Jangjun had said this months earlier, maybe even weeks, he would’ve run out right then and there. But now that he knows what he feels for you, not just for your song but you as a person…

Joochan swallows. He does need to speak to you, though, even briefly. And if Jangjun is willing to cover for him in case something goes wrong, then he should take this opportunity, shouldn’t he?

He nods. “Okay.”

Jangjun gestures to the end of the hall, down the secret passageway Joochan always took to find you. He doesn’t bother to question why Jangjun knows about it. “Then go.”

. . . . .

When Joochan arrives, you’re already under the balcony, humming to some of the rosebuds. You look up at his approach, eyes wide with first fear and then surprise. No wonder – you probably expected him on the balcony again, not right in front of you on the grass.

Joochan’s heart thumps. Gazing at you now, ethereal under the pale moonlight, he has to wonder how he didn’t realize he was in love with you until just a few days ago. Every piece of him aches to reach out, to hold your hands in his, to walk with you around the garden like he does with his fiancée…

His stomach twists at the thought of Donghyun’s sister. Why did their parents have to arrange this marriage?

“Joochan,” you breathe, standing up from where you were kneeling by the bushes. “I –”

“I love you.”

You freeze. Joochan freezes. For a moment, all that hangs in the air is silence and the echoes of Joochan’s words in the wind.

He doesn’t know what made him say it now, so suddenly like this. All he knows is that when you turned around and he heard you say his name, the only thing he could think was I love you, I love you so much I can’t even say and then it all came spilling out.

Finally, you swallow. For the first time since he spoke with you that day in the shed, you look rattled, discomposed, hands shaking as you fight to keep your voice steady. “You – you love me?”

Joochan swallows. Dips his head. “Yes,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Your expression cracks the same way it did when you met in the garden under the light of day, speaking of the roses right by you with his fiancée at his side. Splinters appear in your eyes, a rose’s petals withered past the point of growth even with the help of song, and Joochan can’t help but step forward, try to take your hands in his –

You jerk away and Joochan falters, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. Did he read you wrong? Do you not care for him the same way he cares for you? Because if you don’t, hell, Joochan doesn’t know what he’ll do –

“Joochan.” You swallow. “I mean, Your Highness.”

Pieces splinter off his heart, ice shards shattering on the floor with the sound of his title and not his name from your voice.

“You can’t – you can’t love me,” you whisper, pointedly looking away. “You have a title, you have a fiancée, you have everything –”

“I don’t have freedom,” Joochan interrupts. “No one can hear my song without dying and for that I don’t live, breathe the same way other people do – do you know how much everything hurt before I met you?” His eyes search yours for understanding, but you blink them closed. “Y/N, please.”

“Is that all you love me for, then?” you ask, features twisted in pain. “Just that I can listen to you sing, despite your curse?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head wildly. “No – I love you for everything you are, beyond your voice and song –”

You remain silent as he speaks, words stumbling over more words as he tries to articulate everything he feels for you, his night-blooming rose under the moon and stars, one of the few people he trusts, one of the few around whom he feels like home. He loves your wisdom, your gentle teasing and sweet song, he loves the way you care so deeply for every living thing around you bar the pests you see sometimes eating the plants, he loves you for you, everything that makes up you –

“I love all of you,” he finishes, tears pulsing behind his eyes. “Not a part of you. All of you.”

Your gaze glitters with unshed tears. You don’t say anything.

Joochan panics. “Please, say something,” he pleads. “Just – anything. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll go away and I won’t come back, I promise, just please say something – tell me if you feel the same –”

One hand drags across your eyes. You swallow hard, finally meeting his gaze. “I do,” you say roughly. “I do love you, but we can’t – I can’t –” An angry sigh bursts from your lips and you wipe your eyes again. “Joochan, this could never end well.”

The relief at you using his name and not his title softens Joochan’s sadness, but only barely. “Run away with me,” he says desperately. “Just give me the word, Y/N, and I’ll run away with you. I won’t look back.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Neither of us is going to run away, Joochan. You have your life and I have mine. What we feel…” Your lips curve into the barest smile, lovely, haunting in the moonlight, before it disappears. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“It matters to me,” Joochan protests.

“And it matters to me, too.” You attempt a smile and more pieces shatter from Joochan’s heart at the sight of you trying your hardest to remain strong when he’s already such a wreck. “But it won’t matter to others. You have a fiancée and a whole life ahead of you. My life will stay here, with the flowers.” Your smile grows briefly. “It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?” Joochan asks. “What if I want to marry you, not my fiancée? What if I want us to have a garden together, not just one where we’ll see each other periodically –”

“That life isn’t for us,” you say softly, voice cutting clearly through his desperation. “It isn’t for us, Joochan.”

And with that, the last of Joochan’s heart falls away, cracks to pieces on the cold ground. For a moment, you only stare at each other, a million silent words filling the still air.

“Can we just have tonight, then?” Joochan whispers. “Just tonight.”

You chew on your lip. Joochan’s heart pounds.

Then you nod, and within seconds, he’s folded you into his arms, memorizing the warm weight of your body pressed against his. You shudder into his shoulder – you’re crying, he realizes, just as tears begin to fall from his own eyes – and then wrap your arms around him too, pulling him even closer than before. “Sing for me?” you whisper, voice cracking with tears.

He opens his mouth, begins to hum a song he learned years ago from sitting in on one of Bomin’s lessons. It speaks of hope, a new day, love blossoming as flowers do in a garden, as a night-blooming rose does under the moon. It’s strange, singing alone without your faint humming in the background as you keep the roses alive, but even as the flowers wither, Joochan steadies his voice enough to sing softly, smoothly, knowing that this will be the only night he can hold you like this.

You pull back after his song and for one brief, terrified moment, Joochan thinks you’re going to leave. But you only stare at him, stars sparkling in your eyes, and brush a strand of faded pink hair out of his forehead before your gaze lowers, settling on his lips. “May I?” you whisper, sounding almost frightened that he will say no.

Joochan doesn’t deign you with a verbal reply, only closes the distance and kisses you.

Bitterness on his tongue, sugar on your lips, Joochan pulls you close, close, closer, tasting the bittersweet from your mouth as you kiss under the moon. You separate for air and Joochan gasps a little, dizzy from the taste of your lips, and then you kiss him again, deeper, sweeter, again and again until it finally feels okay to stop for a little longer and you end it with a last brief peck on his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” Joochan whispers as you bury yourself against him once more. “I love you.”

Your voice shakes as you reply. “I love you too, Joochan.”

(Neither of you notices a shadow at the edge of the wall, disappearing into the night.)

. . . . .

By some unspoken agreement, you and Joochan don’t meet under the stars anymore, not even with him on the balcony. That last night was an ending to something bittersweet and beautiful, but you made it clear that that was where things had to stop. Joochan is just grateful you let him have those last hours with you.

At least, that’s what he tells himself, even as he stops singing to himself in his empty room.

It isn’t the same. Joochan can’t sing, doesn’t want to sing if there isn’t someone to listen, to smile, to sing back a melody of their own. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like a betrayal.

You still come under his balcony sometimes to check on the roses. Joochan sometimes sits under the railing so you won’t see him (at least not as clearly), straining his ears to listen to you hum your song to the buds. The seasons are going to change soon, spring turning to summer, and you’ve talked about the changes you need to make when tending to the blooms with the shift in weather. He listens to the faint sounds of your movements and your voice, and he thinks you know he’s there, too, even if he doesn’t join in on your song.

Jangjun begins to look more and more confused as the days pass and Joochan just looks worse. He knows his guard meant well and expected him to be happier after that meeting he encouraged, so Joochan doesn’t have the heart to reveal what actually happened. Jangjun doesn’t ask, but he knows something went wrong.

You disappear from the gardens again. Joochan doesn’t see you when he takes his walks, and even his fiancée remarks on how they never encounter you after a few weeks pass with no sign. For you, Joochan is grateful – it clearly only hurt you to see the two of them together, and he doesn’t want you to hurt at all – but selfishly, he wishes he could see your face just one more time.

“It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

What’s the use of that when you never let yourself see him in the first place?

But Joochan respects your wishes, and even when people start remarking on his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, nods, says I’ve just been busy lately, don’t worry about me, and carries on. No sense in telling anyone about his broken heart.

He takes a walk in the gardens one afternoon, alone. Bomin offered to come, but Joochan wanted to be by himself (well, by himself with Jangjun, of course). Almost unconsciously, his feet take him under his balcony, where the night-blooming roses grow.

Joochan sits on the grass in the shade looking at the roses. Most of the buds have blossomed with the warmer summer weather, and he fingers a few of the midnight blue blooms, runs a hand over the soft white streaks on their petals.

Then he blinks. Scoots back. Takes in the scene from a farther distance, eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening in surprise.

They’re overgrown. Not by a lot, but still a noticeable amount. The branches that you kept so carefully trimmed now crawl up the wall, creeping past the shade and just barely into the sun.

Joochan frowns. There’s no way you would be this careless normally, but maybe you’ve been busy over the past week or so and haven’t had time to tend them. After all, the rest of the gardens are your main focus – this bush was something extra, since nothing is ever really planted here out of fear of his voice. Come to think of it, Joochan hasn’t heard your voice from the balcony in a few days – he thought it might’ve just been you singing too quietly, but maybe you weren’t there at all.

Busy. You must be busy. Joochan stands, casting one last uncertain glance at the overgrown rose bush before walking off, ignoring Jangjun’s look of concern. He’ll come back and check in a few days to see if they’ve been trimmed.

A few days pass. Then a week. Joochan waits on the balcony every night, straining for a single note that sounds like your voice. Nothing.

And the rose bush is out of control.

. . . . .

On the fifth visit, Jangjun finally says something.

“Your Highness –” he looks around before deciding they’re alone, then drops the formalities. “Joochan, seriously, is something wrong?”

Yes. Something is very wrong. Joochan has come to look at the roses five times and each time they’ve just grown even more out of control. No one is taking care of them.

Which means you haven’t been here. In weeks.

Joochan swallows, debating whether or not to tell Jangjun everything. He could help – Jangjun knows the palace almost better than Joochan himself does, and he has a way with words that lets him seek out the information he needs without giving away what he wants. Joochan might talk to Bomin, but his brother is both busy and in closer proximity to his parents. Plus, he doesn’t have as much freedom to maneuver as Jangjun.

He swallows. “Jangjun, can you find out if something has happened to Y/N?”

Jangjun frowns. “The gardener? Why?”

“They haven’t been here to tend the roses in weeks,” Joochan says helplessly. “Please don’t ask me how I know, but…” He gestures at the overgrown bush. “I think something’s happened to them.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Jangjun sets his jaw. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you.” It isn’t a question.

“Not… not now,” Joochan allows. “If something happens, though…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. All of it.”

Jangjun nods. “Fine. Give me a few days, I’ll see what I can find.”

Joochan only hopes he isn’t too late.

. . . . .

Two days later, Jangjun grabs Joochan out of nowhere and shoves him into an empty room.

Joochan coughs on dust particles flying in the air. “Jangjun, what the –”

“Joochan, you need to tell me everything.” Jangjun’s eyes hold no mischief whatsoever. “Y/N is sitting in prison underneath us this very minute and I need to know how it could have slipped that they know of your curse.”

How it could have slipped.

Slipped.

How –

“What?” Joochan sputters, heartbeat rising. “I couldn’t – I don’t know how anyone would have – we haven’t spoken in a month –”

“Seungmin told me they haven’t been at work for at least two weeks and that they just disappeared. It matches up with the time a new prisoner was brought in,” Jangjun snaps. “Try to remember. Something, anything.”

Joochan closes his eyes. Tries to think. You’re in prison, in prison, because someone somehow found out that you know of Joochan’s curse even though no one has been around when you two sang together – that has to be true or else they would’ve died at the sound of his song, and no one died –

Was there a time when he wasn’t singing?

Oh.

There was – that last time –

His eyes fly open. “That time you told me to go –” he chokes, does his best to continue – “we met, and I told them that I loved them but –”

“But what?”

Joochan puts his head in his hands. “We agreed that it couldn’t work out so we just spent that one night in the garden – nothing happened, don’t look at me like that – but neither of us sang much and someone could’ve heard something and – they could have pieced it together?”

“Okay.” Joochan hears Jangjun take a deep breath. “Okay. That would… that would explain it.” Hands place themselves on Joochan’s shoulders and he opens his eyes to Jangjun’s serious expression. “What do you want to do about this?”

Joochan blinks. What does he want to do about this? What kind of question – “I need to get them out, obviously!”

“Then they’ll be on the run for the rest of their life,” Jangjun counters. “Granted, they’re just a gardener and they might be able to blend in somewhere on the outskirts.” He squeezes Joochan’s shoulders so hard it almost hurts. “Would you go with them?”

In a heartbeat. In a heartbeat.

“Even if it meant giving up living in the palace, bringing a lot of trouble on Bomin and possibly breaking your fiancée’s heart?”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“Bomin – Bomin will understand,” Joochan says, desperately trying to convince himself. “And Donghyun’s sister doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want this marriage any more than I do.”

“There will be political ramifications,” Jangjun warns. “I know you weren’t raised as the crown prince, but you have to know this much.”

Joochan scoffs. “My parents will try to pull it off as a kidnapping or something,” he says. “No way would they let it slip that I dared to run away.”

“Then they could send an assassin or a mercenary after you. Kill Y/N, bring you back. Force you to return to everything you tried to run away from.”

Fear bubbles in Joochan’s stomach, but he swallows it down. “If Y/N is willing to deal with it, so am I.”

Jangjun searches his expression for several excruciating seconds. When Joochan doesn’t flinch from his gaze, he finally pulls back and nods. “Prison break is the last resort,” Jangjun says. “Right now, you need to go to your parents and see if you can convince them to let Y/N go. Swear them to secrecy, keep them under watch in the palace or something – it doesn’t matter. Getting them out of here will be much easier if they’re not imprisoned in the first place. Tell Bomin, ask him to help you convince them if you think that’ll help.”

Joochan swallows, still feeling the burn of Jangjun’s hands on his shoulders. The residual pain clears his mind, helps him think. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

. . . . .

Bomin takes it about as well as Joochan thought he would, which is not as well as he would’ve liked but better than it could have been. After seemingly endless explanation, he agrees to back Joochan – you’re only a gardener, after all, this is kind of overkill, and Bomin is just a good brother like that. It almost makes Joochan cry again.

As the doors to the throne room open, Joochan’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He hates facing his parents, hates looking at them and speaking to them more than most things in the world, but for you?

He’ll do it.

Joochan walks into a silent room, boots thumping on the cold stone floor. Bomin’s footsteps just behind him give him strength as he looks up to his mother and father, sitting with blank expressions on their thrones. “I request that the room be cleared.”

His father searches his gaze. “Request granted.”

It takes a minute for all the guards and officials to filter through the doors, during which Joochan tries to calm his beating heart. Finally, the room is empty save for his immediate family.

Joochan swallows. “I ask that you take Y/N out of prison.”

Eyebrows raise. Joochan hates that they don’t even seem to recognize your name. “The gardener,” he almost snaps, reigning himself in only just in time when he catches Bomin’s warning look.

Faces clear. Eyes become stone. “They know the secret of your curse,” his father says, voice flat and cold. Joochan can hardly believe he has healing power – his voice sucks all the heat out of the room. Your voice always made him feel warm. “They cannot be left to wander the kingdom and spread the word.”

“So bind them to secrecy. Keep them under watch in the palace,” Joochan counters. “They shouldn’t have to be stuck in prison – there are already people outside our immediate family who know, and they’ve kept their mouths shut!”

“They have not been vetted by the palace,” his mother snaps. “They are liable to speak, and as such, they must be kept away.”

Kept away. Like an inanimate object, a toy from ages past, to be locked in a cupboard and never shown the light of day…

Bomin shoots him a sharp glance, but Joochan is sick of this.

“Are you serious?” he yells. “You – have one single ounce of sympathy, will you? Or is that impossible with the way you’ve been running your kingdom – your household – for so long?”

“You are marked by death,” his mother snarls. “It is imperative that no one know this beyond all those necessary.”

“Father, they’re just one person,” Bomin breaks in before Joochan can explode again. “It’s entirely possible to not keep them in the prison and just keep watch over them –”

“You clearly have much to learn before you become king.” Their father shakes his head, as though disappointed. “Just one person? One sick person can spread an illness to a city within days, and illness travels even slower than words. How fast do you think news of this would spread if your gardener decided to speak?”

Joochan scoffs. “You never have any problem paying people off to be quiet or do things you want them to do. What’s so different this time?”

“I? Pay off a gardener?” His father laughs. “Who do you think I am?”

Joochan explodes.

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” he yells. “You think so highly of yourself just because you wear a crown made of some shiny metal and jewels – you think you have the right to rule because of your supposed royal blood even though there’s nothing but cold evil under the surface? We are the descendants of killers – your father wiped out the weavers and you have no sympathy, so how can you think you have the right – why do you think you can just play people as pawns and have them do whatever you want – even your children – do you ever think about what we want?” Angry tears brim in his eyes but Joochan keeps them back. “I never wanted any of this! I never asked for my gift, I never asked to be born, I never asked to be the evil, death-marked child you always made me out to be, I never asked for the arranged marriage, all I ever wanted was to be happy and to use my gift but I couldn’t even do that – and now you’re taking away half the reason I still want to live by shutting them in a prison because of something they found out by accident –”

“You have no gift,” his mother intones, voice icing Joochan’s veins. “You are cursed.” Her lip curls. “Your song is no gift to us.”

Bomin makes an outraged sound in his throat, but Joochan barely hears it. All he can register is the blood roaring in his ears, the cold look on his mother’s face, the abhorrence and disgust on his father’s –

And he knows it isn’t true. You’ve taught him otherwise. Death is a part of a cycle – some flowers you can’t even bring back from their withering, it is just their time – and life needs it just as much as death needs life. Just as much as he needs you.

But hearing the words come directly from his mother’s lips, the woman who bore him, hurts almost more than your words can heal.

Joochan swallows. He could end it all right now. Tell Bomin to get out, sing, watch his song wither his parents away like the petals of an old rose – no, not a rose, even a withered rose is a sight better than the two monarchs sitting in front of him –

But he isn’t a killer. Not by far. He can’t do it.

Joochan steps back once. Twice. His voice, though small, carries in the silence.

“You know,” he chokes, “for people who pride yourselves on your ability to heal, all you really do is cause pain.”

He doesn’t wait for Bomin to follow before he runs out of the room.

. . . . .

Jangjun finds him in his quarters with Bomin half an hour later, sitting on the floor and staring at the wall. “It didn’t work out.”

Joochan doesn’t need to say anything to confirm it.

“So what happens next?” Bomin asks, still rhythmically patting Joochan’s back. It helps a little.

“We break Y/N out,” Jangjun says. “And they run away with Joochan.”

Bomin doesn’t look surprised, but Joochan’s heart still twists. He doesn’t want to leave Bomin or Jaehyun or Jangjun behind – they’re some of the only people who’ve kept him sane since he was old enough to think – but at the same time, he’s been itching to just leave the scrutiny of his parents for years.

After so much pain, even brotherly ties won’t keep him here for much longer.

“I’m going with you.”

Joochan’s head snaps up. Bomin furrows his eyebrows. “What – Jangjun?”

“They might send assassins after you and Y/N.” Jangjun crosses his arms. “I know you’re good in a fight, but Y/N doesn’t know anything about that sort of life. I do. You need me there to lead people off track, plant evidence –”

“That’s not the only reason,” Joochan interrupts. His eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something.”

Jangjun’s jaw works. He doesn’t look angry, exactly, maybe worried –

No.

For the first time Joochan has ever seen, his guard looks scared.

Bomin casts Joochan a concerned look. “Jangjun, it’s fine –”

“I’m a weaver.”

Joochan’s jaw drops. So does Bomin’s. Jangjun just stares back, defiant, arms crossed to hide the shaking in his hands.

A weaver. Joochan’s guard is a weaver. His loyal guard is one of those his forebears tried to wipe out generations ago – so why is he here, protecting the descendant of those who probably killed his family, his ancestors –

All of a sudden, Jangjun’s words from so many weeks ago make sense.

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

He’s a weaver. One of those who wove stories into clothes, one of those his grandfather tried to massacre.

“Why?” Joochan manages.

“I was decent at fighting and needed a stable roof over my head that wasn’t the orphanage,” Jangjun explains. An unreadable look flashes through his eyes. “Took the first opportunity I could get and thought I would hate it. But then I realized… neither of you are your parents. Not even close.” He swallows. “So I stayed. Longer than I expected to.”

“So why leave now?” Bomin asks. “You could still stay – I mean, if we’re the only people who know –”

“Daeyeol knows too,” Jangjun says. Bomin starts at the name of his personal guard. “He knows, and he told me that some of the higher ups have been getting suspicious of… things. My unknown parentage. Why I’m so good at sewing.” He scoffs. “Like only commoners can be good at sewing. But yeah. No one will care how loyal I am if they find out I’m a weaver, so I’m going to have to run off at some point.” His jaw sets. “I might as well go along with you.”

Joochan has to try hard not to cry. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a sap.” A sliver of the old Jangjun comes back in the scowl that paints itself across his face. “Bomin, you could come with us, you know that right?”

He shakes his head. “No, I need to stay back. If both of the princes disappeared, there’s no telling what our parents would do.” Bomin swallows. “Who knows. Maybe one day, when they’re gone, you might be able to come back.”

That would be a dream.

“Thank you, Bomin,” Joochan whispers.

His brother squeezes his hand in response.

“Well, that settles it.” Jangjun snaps his fingers before Joochan can do something stupid like cry. “Get moving. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

. . . . .

Joochan does not like the prisons. He’s been there before, but every time, the mildew smell and darkness make him want to hurl.

The fact that you’re in here, though, spurs him on.

Jangjun makes quick work of the last guard, slamming the handle of his sword into his head. The man crumples to the ground. Joochan stands over another unconscious man, peering forward into the darkness. “Down the hall?”

“Yeah.” Jangjun looks down at his arm. “Oh, come on.”

“What happened?”

“Just a scratch.” Jangjun waves him off. “Go and find them. I’ll stand guard here. There should be one more left, two at most. You can handle it.”

Heart in his throat, Joochan turns towards the dark. Several torches flicker light onto the stone walls and he takes care to remain in their shadows as he creeps down the line of cells, eyeing the guard standing at the end.

One shot. One chance. Joochan takes another step. Another –

The guard turns around.

For a moment, they only stare at each other, eyes wide. Then Joochan leaps forward.

Metal clangs. Armor crashes. Joochan whirls, dodging a metal-covered fist before slamming his sword against the side of the man’s helmet. He crumples to the floor.

Joochan experimentally prods the body with his foot. Breathing, but unconscious. Good. He plucks off the ring of keys –

“Joochan?”

He spins around at the sound of your voice and meets your gaze, face thinner, eyes wider, but still you. Still you.

“Y/N,” he breathes, rushing forward. His fingers tremble as he tries one key after another, all the while trying not to cry. What did they do to you? “Give me a second, we’re getting you out.”

A key finally clicks and Joochan drops the ring, pulling open the cell door and letting you fall into his arms. He holds you close as you shake against his shoulders, chest heaving, not crying yet but the small sounds in your throat make it seem like you’re close –

“We need to go,” Joochan whispers, squeezing you one more time. “Come on, Y/N.”

You lift your head. “Where are we going?”

Good question. Joochan doesn’t even know. Just away, away from the palace, away from everything…

“We’re running away,” he says. “Both of us. And Jangjun.”

To your credit, you take it without question, only nodding and pulling back. Joochan wants to hug you again, but there’s not time. “I guess we should go, then.”

. . . . .

Bomin meets them as they emerge from a dark passageway, immediately pressing a bag into Joochan’s hands. Something rattles inside. “Money,” he says. “And hair dye. You need to get rid of that pink.”

He wraps Bomin in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Live a good life, yeah?” Bomin pats his back, hand steady even as his voice trembles. “I’ll see you again.”

Joochan blinks back a tear. “Definitely. Tell Jaehyun, okay?”

“Of course.” And with that, they separate.

Joochan only hopes that another meeting will come to pass.

Jangjun leads them down endless halls and passageways, some even Joochan doesn’t know. All the while he holds your hand, pulling you forward anytime it feels like you’re faltering, and in the end, Jangjun pushes open a last door and you burst into the early evening, a floral scent in the air. The gardens. 

He looks around. 

Meets a familiar face.

Shit.

“Joochan?” His fiancée takes a hesitant step forward, eyes flickering between the three. Your grip tightens on his hand. “What – where are you going?”

Jangjun looks at him. So do you.

He says nothing.

Her eyes widen. “You’re running away.”

No one needs to confirm it. Their clothes, the bag on his shoulder, the weapons strapped to his and Jangjun’s waists say everything.

“Yes,” Joochan finally says, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression sinks, though she puts a smile on her face. “I understand.” Her gaze shifts to you. “You were never in love with me. It was obvious.”

The ache in Joochan’s heart grows even stronger. “I –”

“It’s fine.” Her smile takes on a semblance of mischief. “If it doesn’t hurt your ego too much, I was never in love with you.”

Joochan almost laughs. “I figured.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Her lips turn down slightly, a little wistful. “Shame, though. I think we could’ve been friends.”

“I think so, too.” And it’s true. If they hadn’t been forced into all of this…

“Well, I never saw you. Not even a glimpse.” His former fiancée begins to turn around. “Don’t mind me, just walking in the gardens.”

He calls her name, just before she fully turns. She looks back. “Hm?”

For a moment, Joochan falters. This could go very wrong.

But he decides to take a chance.

“Find Bomin,” he says. “Tell him I said he could tell you everything. Donghyun, too. And for what it’s worth…” He swallows. “I really am sorry.”

“Things rarely go according to plan.” She smirks. “Our parents should’ve thought of that first.”

They really might have been friends. Joochan tries not to think of what could have been as he follows Jangjun between bushes, helping you through trees, crawling under fences until they reach the edge of the forest that borders the palace.

Jangjun plunges in, but Joochan pauses. Looks at you. Even gaunt, thinner from weeks of prison, you are radiant under the rising moonlight that filters between the trees.

You smile at him, squeezing his hand. “Ready?”

So many times, he’s been asked that question before balls, before events, before arranged marriage meetings, and every time, though he said yes, his real answer was no.

This time, however…

“Are you two done being saps?” Jangjun hisses from further into the forest. “Hurry up!”

Nothing is certain anymore. He might now technically be a fugitive. But tomorrow is a new day, and though Joochan is on the run, he’s with you. 

And he’s free.

Joochan smiles at you, ignoring his guard. “Ready.”

Together, you slip into the night.

. . . . .

The palace called it kidnapping. There was a manhunt for months, search parties looking for a gardener and a royal guard, the prince’s alleged kidnappers. Many thought it ludicrous, however, that a mere gardener and a guard who had been known to be loyal to the prince for years would attempt something as ridiculous as this, and simply left the palace to fumble through its affairs in the wake of the disappearance.

The former prince himself dealt with assassins sent after his partner, bounty hunters charged to bring him back (dead or alive, he learned, it didn’t matter – if he were dead, at least no one would have to deal with him anymore). The guard lured them all away. Together, the three plunged further into the country outskirts until there was no trace left, not even of the last assassin who had been sent to take care of them all.

This is where the story should end, with two black-haired brothers and a gardener settling quietly at the edge of a forest. Yet though the words now come to close, the world still remains.

The end of one story, after all, is only the beginning of another.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for a certain trio + a prince back at the palace)

[changeling-rin]

Yes, you can absolutely be Story Anon, but... potatopenguin, is that you? This seems very familiar

Tetra-look-alike is eventually convinced not to shoot by Steam and Wind apparently resembling her grandfather and great-great-great-grandfather, respectively. This sidetracks into Steam and Wind finally figuring out that they are, in fact, related. Several minutes of ecstatic chattering later, Tetra-look-alike and her brother are thoroughly confused. Lore takes the opportunity to confuse them more by pointing out that they really shouldn't be leaving their informational diaries wide open where anyone can find them and learn secret plot points. He also informs them that, as their one-year-anniversary of burning the Castle to the ground is rapidly approaching, they should keep an eye out for any bounty hunters, new-king wannabes, and/or the random former employee of said Castle, as those things are about fifty times more likely to happen on auspicious anniversaries simply for the drama.

Exactly sixty-five days later, Tetra-look-alike and her brother meet a foreign man named Ganondorf, who was a former pageboy at the Castle, turned bounty hunter when the fire happened, with goals of becoming the new king. And, well, they put so much effort into setting the Castle on fire in the first place, they really can't let someone build a new one can they?

Cue drama

"You guys, there's a Pidgey over here."

But I'm not prepared to go to jail! I still haven't finished rewriting the newest chapter!

Gen: quality, occasionally backtalks too much, can be bribed with medical supplies

Speck: high quality, hasn't failed yet, could possibly be planning murder behind that quiet personality

The Four: terrible at stealth, excellent at applied force, possibly psychic?

Ocarina: innocent, handle with care, pair with Mask at all costs

Mask: will probably commit murder if Ocarina dies, pair at all costs

Dusk: high quality, pairs with anyone well, but cannot be trusted to follow questionably moral orders

RGBV: deal with Green who deals with the rest of them, saves a headache

Lore: pair at all costs, doesn't matter who, this one just cannot be left to his own devices lest the landscape explodes

Realm: pair at all costs, where does this one even go, needs a minder at all times or he'll never come back

Sketch: quality, definitely backtalks too much, but excellent at stealth

Wind: high quality, hard to predict, best paired victim due to common sensibility

Steam: distractible but dedicated once focused, can be bribed with power tools

Shadow: can be steered but not controlled, handle with caution, beware of blast zone

Oni: ...do not engage

I think it'd almost be funnier to meet him in his tunic, so he gives the impression of being someone sensible, and then have him wear increasingly bad outfits so that Wind just falls a little bit deeper into despair every time they meet up

[ginazmemeoir]

ok so i realized i haven’t made a mythology post in a loooooooooooooooooong time, so here you go with a comparative analysis of the representation of Shurpanakha in modern Indian literature.

Now, Shurpanakha (lit. She who is as sharp as nails) was the sister of the Emperor of Lanka, Ravan. Originally born as the beautiful Meenakshi (lit. She with eyes shaped like fish), there have been many speculations as to why her named was thus changed. For this analysis, I will be comparing her character in four books : Asura by Ananda Neelkanthan, Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane, Forest of Enchantments by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni and Raavan : Enemy of Aryavarta by Amish Tripathi.

We will first be approaching Asura, which was the first one released. The book is controversial enough on its own for portraying the villains of the epic Ramayana as the actual good guys (this is actually the author’s writing style). Now, the Shurpanakha here is shown as Meenakshi : the book describes how she flirted with Rama, but was instead raped by both Rama and Lakshamana. The metaphor of  “having one’s nose cut” has been taken both literally and figuratively, as Lakshamana then proposes to disfigure Shurpanakha by cutting off her nose and ears. This Shurpanakha, is polar to the one we know - innocent and “pure”, and thus much less believable.

The Shurpanakha in Forest of Enchantments is portayed as Kamarupini - she with a lustful form. Shurpanakha is shown as a free roaming forest spirit, who originally interacts with Sita frankly as a woman. Later she flirts with both the princes. When she realizes that they are toying with her by telling her to go to the other repeatedly, she rushes to kill Sita and is then disfigured by Lakshamana by having her nose and ears chopped off. This Shurpanakha, later, ridicules Sita in Lanka. Although she is scarcely mentioned, this Shurpanakha is much more relatable, however not entirely.

Amish in his book has portrayed Shurpanakha entirely as the monster the Ramayana depicts her as. This Shurpanakha however : IS A GREEK PRINCESS. That’s right, in this narrative Shurpanakha is the child Raavana’s father has with the Queen of Knossos along with Vibhishana. Both are originally Greek royalty. This Shurpanakha fits the physical appearance of the Ramayana : overtly sexualized and accentuated features. She is an active part of Ravana’s political ambitions, but craves power for herself too. An entirely different character, this Shurpanakha is intriguing, and relatable.

However, the Shurpanakha in Kane’s book, is human. Maybe because the book revolves entirely around her, Kane shows her transition : from Meenakshi to Shurpanakha. She is described as having a neglected, abusive childhood, wherein she learns to fend for herself at quite an early age with Ravana as her brother. The only two characters who she actually considers family are her brother Kumbhakarna and her maternal grandmother, the yaksha princess Taraka. As Meenakshi grows older, she finds herself more and more aloof from her family. She finds love and acceptance in her husband Vidyutjihva, the king of the Kalakeyas. She wilfully ignores all the rumours about her husband which actually turn out to be true : he was partly using her to gain access to his enemy Ravan, and he was also a notorious man whore. Shurpanakha refuses to believe all this, and gets insane after Ravan kills her husband. Kane here uses the version wherein Shurpanakha starts the war for her own revenge - and that’s what precisely happens. The narrative of the original Ramayana is followed with an additional element : Shurpanakha here sows a seed of doubt in Sita’s mind, stating that both her husband and her brother were attracted to her and were thus infuriated at themselves and at her. Shurpanakha is unable to let go of her revenge and then further reaches Ayodhya to ruin Sita’s life. It is only after she envisions her happily married life in Lakshamana and Urmila that she goes calm, and then commits suicide by drowning in the Lankan sea.

Overall, I prefer the representation given to Shurpanakha in Lanka’s Princess. Her character has completely been justified, and given the space that this complex character of one of the grandest epics of the world truly deserved.

P.S. - if you haven’t read any of these books : THEN GO READ THEM BITCH WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

tagging : @amandaanubis @wannabe-santiago @aadya-said-chal-be @psycho-mocha @kuuhakublank00 @dragonfairy1231

[cynergy-laughter]

Obey Me! One Master to Abridge Them All! Ep. 5

5. Rewind... Rewind... Rewind...

Leviathan: W-What?! No, that doesn’t happen!

MC: Uh, yeah it does.

Diavolo: Enn doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would lie about something so detailed... I think we know who the winner is...

Leviathan: No... NNOOOOO! *changes into demon form* You shouldn’t know any of this! You are just a newbie wannabe! You got into TSL in such a short time, and now this... I will not accept this... I will not recognize you as a fan!!! *runs at Enn*

MC: Oh shi- *falls down* Mammon!

Mammon: I’m comin- GAH! *slips on some melted ice cream* Dammit! I can’t get there in time... run!

Levi: I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY A NORMIE!!! *reaches out hands to wring Enn’s neck*

*Freeze!*

MC: *voiceover* This is me, I know what you’re thinking, this is a huge jump from the last time we left off. Oh dang... I look so scared at that frame... who even got that angle of me? Well they deserve a raise... uhh anywho, you’re probably wondering how I got here... well good, fleeting audience, I shall tell you how.

*rewinds two days and two nights ago*

MC: *groaning, brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed* I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that garlic and ghost pepper devil potato salad... best potato salad I’ve ever had, but feels like a detox coming out... *sprays and finishes up in the bathroom*

???: H-Help... Help me...

MC: *eyes widen* Oh please tell me I’m not in a bathroom fever dream...

???: Please... help... follow my voice...

MC: ... Yeah, cause that always goes well...

*follows to the attic stairs anyway*

Lucifer: *pops up out of nowhere* Go back now. There’s nothing up there for you.

MC: For me? Now you’ve piqued my interest.

Lucifer: Well there’s nothing at the peak for you, go back to your room. Don’t ever go up to the attic.

MC: How do you spell attic, by the way?

Lucifer: ... A-T-T-I-C.

MC: Ah! You naughty boy, why were you looking down there?! *puts hands over chest* My eyes are up here.

Lucifer: *blinks and blushed mad, realizing what he just said* Room. Now.

MC: *tries not to laugh as they go to their room*

—————

MC: *sitting at breakfast, alone with Mammon, zoned out*

Mammon: Hey! Are you even listening to me?!

MC: Hmm? Oh, sorry, as soon you started talking crap about me I kinda just turned your ranting into background noise.

Mammon: ...Well... don’t do that, you don’t just skip over The Great Talkative Mammon’s dialogue, that’s rude.

MC: Did you... really just add another adjective to your Name Title?

Mammon: Yeah, what you gonna argue with The Great Infallible Mammon?

MC: I literally made you enter a pact with me two nights ago.

Mammon: Shut up! Gah! Why did I have to be the one who be paired with you. It’s all Levi’s fault that I’m with you in the first place... no, it’s all Lucifer’s fault... none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him...

MC: *sighs, and goes on another daydream, he wanted to know how to get past Lucifer*

*Earlier last night*

MC: *Casually walks toward the stairs* Hey Lucifer, can I see what’s upstairs, please?

Lucifer: No.

MC: tch, almost had him... *walks back to room*

*present*

Mammon: ...Lucifer’s color scheme reminds me of those OP DeviousArtsy original characters, like Red and Black? Seriously? Get a better outfit, especially if you’re gonna wear brown shoes, why can’t you wear black, you’re already wearing so much of it! Oh and to top it off, his feet reek... not that I’ve... ever smelled them... but I’m saying it, so it’s true-

MC: Mammon, what’s in the attic?

Mammon: Don’t change the subject, right now we’re discussing Lucifer’s feet, which, by the way, freaking stin- wait what?

MC: ... Mammon. Attic. What’s up there?

Mammon: ... Geez, you really don’t know how to mind your business do you?

MC: I do, but I feel like I’m already more involved than anyone could ever realize...

—————

Mammon: *walking with Enn to Levi’s room* If you wanna get past Lucifer and find out what’s in the attic... You’ll need something that Lucifer wants, and I think I know just who to go to for that something...

MC: *looks at Levi’s room door* ... So why the hell are we outside the Ultimate Otaku’s door? What does he have that Lucifer wants?

Mammon: *whispering* There’s a record of the limited cursed edition of the TSL soundtrack in there, he absolutely loves it, so we just gotta ask Levi for it, it’ll be easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

MC: One, don’t ever say that again. Two, I don’t know how easy it’s gonna be since Levi wants nothing to do with me, and three... oh what the hell. *knocks on the door*

Levi: What’s the secret phrase?

MC: *looks at Mammon* Yeah, Mammon, this sure is gonna be lemon squeezy.

Mammon: Okay, Levi, let us in, it’s The Great Older Brother Mammon, and his pact slave.

MC: *leers at Mammon* You’re about to be the Great Fat-Lipped Mammon in a minute.

Mammon: *shied away a couple of steps* At least capitalize the T in the word The...

Levi: I am known by someone outside the door as the Ultimate Otaku, and to gain entry, you must say the secret phrase.

Mammon: *leers at Enn* So great, he was listening the whole time, and you’re calling me names?

MC: Ugh... umm... Rurichan is bae? Mammon’s an idiot? Enn’s a Normie?

Levi: ... while it is all true, bzzt! Wrong! Access denied.

Solomon: *appears behind them* Well, if it isn’t the celebrity and his newfound pet demon~.

MC: *jumps up, and holds Mammon close to them* Get the hell outta here, Goblin King, we ain’t wishing for nothing.

Solomon: *smirks* Sorry for scaring you, Enn. *knocks on the door* The fifth lord...

Levi: ...couldn’t keep his huge rod in his pants and took the Lord of Corruption’s wife to bed...

Solomon: And for the betrayal done unto his home...

Levi: The Lord of Corruption named him the Lord of Lechery, and cursed him with eternal unattainable climax. Secret phrase approved, welcome to my kingdom.

Solomon: *smirks* Peace out suckas. *hits the whip, and nae-naes backward into Levi’s room*

MC: *still holding Mammon protectively* So the Goblin King had an invitation?

Mammon: *blushing* ... You do know that was the secret phrase right?

MC: ... *knocks on the door* The Fifth Lord-

Levi: Bzzzt! The password has been reset! Bitch you thought! Next time know more about TSL before you try me, normie!

MC: *growls and bangs on the door* GAH! Go to Heaven you K-Pop Justin Bieber!

Mammon: Enn! ENN! Don’t, you don’t wanna get in trouble with Lucifer, not this early in the year... *pulls Enn away*

Levi: *with in the room* You see what I have to deal with? The violent life of the yucky otaku.

Solomon: Hmm...

*interviews*

Solomon: *bursts out laughing* PFFFTHAHAHAHA! K-Pop Justin B-Beihihiberrrr! Oh my god, I have to text that to Asmo... *starts texting* Man, as belligerent as Enn is, they sure know how to roast someone...

MC: Don’t worry, this makes day 4 that he hasn’t noticed. But... I have to find a way to get him to give me the record... God, I don’t know what it is with Levi, he just knows how to push my buttons... have I let him get to me?

—————

Mammon: So... why am I gonna be watching this with that human... and Beel... why are you here?

Beel: A Movie marathon means popcorn, and I had a craving.

Mammon: ... Of course you did.

MC: *comes in with a huge tub of popcorn* Alright, a huge tub of popcorn, extra butter and salt for Beel, a pack of chocolate coins for Mammon, and a sensible bowl of popcorn and soda for myself. Oh, I also made all of us slushees.

Mammon: *blinks* slushees? What are those?

MC: It’s cherry and blue raspberry.

Beel: *eyes widen* Why is it that you continue to amaze me with your snacks?

Mammon: Did you really just ask that question? Did YOU... just ask that question? The bigger question is how did you make these?

MC: Not important. Alright boys, 12 hours ain’t gonna watch itself, let’s get ready... The Tale of The Seven Lords... *presses Play*

————— The next day...

Levi: Human.

MC: *looks at Levi* Wow, look at who decided to grace us with his presence after spending his whole day in his room.

Levi: Don’t talk down to me just cause you have all the time in the world to do what you want, like having a TSL marathon. Totally not fair by the way.

Mammon: Wow, talk about nosy, were you spying on us?

Levi: No, Golden Moron, I heard it from Lucifer.

MC: First of all, don’t steal my joke, I worked hard for that, and second of all, for someone who minds his business, you sure do like knowing everyone else’s.

Levi: I don’t want to hear you talking especially since you are the ruler of not minding your business! Just cause you’re trying to suck up to me, doesn’t mean we’re gonna be all buddy-buddy. So get it through your thick head.

MC: Leviathan, I challenge you to a TSL Fan-Off.

Levi: *blinks* Excuse me? Are you serious? You really think that you, a human normie is gonna out-fan me?! LMMFAO! That’s not even a contest.

MC: Wow, I never knew you were a chicken, Levi.

Levi: ... what?

MC: I’m just saying if you had your own fursona, it would be a chicken. Ba-GAWK!

Levi: ... You take that back. I would N E V E R !

MC: Because you already are Levi, just cause you didn’t accept. An Otaku Chicken, I can see the Fanart now!

Levi: You know what, I was gonna spare you the embarrassment, but now I’m gonna make it my goal to destroy you in that Fan-off, human. When I’m finished with you, your time in the Devildom will be cut short. But, if by some odd miracle you best me, I’ll join Mammon as one of your pacts. Not like it’s ever gonna happen, I mean, I’ve only been following TSL all of a millennia. And that, compared to your 12 hour marathon, should speak to how much more knowledge I have of TSL than you. So let’s see who Fans off more. Student Council hall, today after school, and don’t chicken out.

MC: Heh, just I eat chicken doesn’t mean I am one. I’ll see you then.

*there was an intense stare down, until there was a loud cackling from upstairs*

Asmo: BWAHAHAHA! K-Pop Justin Beiber, I’m done! Solomon, I am done with you! AAAHH! YAAASS!

[komkommertijd]

F1 2020 Grid as German rap songs

Since the 2020 season has come to an end, I thought it might be a good idea to finally share this thing that I’ve been working on since June. I have no idea as to why or how I had this idea, but I’m sure I’m not the first one to do this, anyway. I’m sorry to all my fellow Germans in advance <3

Disclaimer: I translated all of the lyrics myself so some things might not be completely accurate, for which I can only apologize. I do not agree with the way some rappers portray women, so I made sure to steer clear from those lyrics.

(post under the cut because it got kinda very long whoops)

Lewis - Vintage (RIN)

Oh Lord, wo soll das Ganze enden? Fahr' so schnell, ich wechsel' jede Woche Bremsen

[Oh Lord, where is this supposed to end? Driving so fast, I’m changing brakes every week]

It’s a song about being a champion, living a luxury life, nice clothes, and well...driving fast cars. Any more questions? Rin is one of my favorite German rap artists, so I just had to include his songs, and this one makes you feel like a real badass, just like our king Lewis 😌

Valtteri - In meinem Benz (AK Ausserkontrolle, Bonez MC)

Du siehst mich im Benz sitzen, so wie Lewis Hamilton

[You see me sitting in a Benz, just like Lewis Hamilton]

It’s kind of obvious why I chose that song, right? Other than that specific line there are some more parts about how much the rapper apparently loves his Mercedes and this song just screamed Valtteri to me.

Charles - NENENE (Fero47)

Sitze bald in roten Ferrari Geben Gas in der Hood Ruf' ich danach, "C'est la vie!"

[I’ll soon sit in a red Ferrari Rev up in my hood Shouting “C’est la vie!” afterward]

Ignoring the entire part about Monte Carlo and all the French words, this specific part just always reminds me of Charles when I listen to the song. More badass vibes but less seriously so because I can’t take Fero’s voice that serious at all, which fits Charles.

Sebastian - Ferrari (Eno, MERO)

Roter Ferrari Ich gebe Gas in einem Ferrari Roter Ferrari Yeah, ich sitze tief in einem Ferrari

[Red Ferrari I rev up in a red Ferrari Red Ferrari Yeah, I’m sitting deep inside a Ferrari]

There’s a part about “rolling with [a] bro in a white Mercedes” and my brain said Sewis rights. Other than that, this is once again a rather obvious choice, if not all that up to date anymore. Some lines about racing on the German highway, so of course I had to go for Sebastian with this one.

Max - Fame (Apache207)

Die Rapszene ist nur ein Affenzirkus In dem kleine Kinder gern mit Waffen hantieren Ich steh', wo ich steh', weil ich bin, wer ich bin Und nicht weil hier irgendjemand Apache platziert

[The rap scene is a madhouse Where little kids like to make use of guns I stand where I stand because I am who I am And not because someone places Apache]

This simply gives me Max vibes, I don’t have much more to say as an explanation. It just feels right, with criticism towards mentally “weaker” individuals and the confidence in making a name for oneself based on own achievements and hard work. Also, Apache has become a rather popular musician in the past year(s) (especially to obnoxious 5th graders, all tea no shade), which is just...Max, I won’t elaborate.

Alex - HONDA (Ansu)

Hold on, kommt was Schnell – Konter Dreamer, besonders – Willy Wonka Auto – Honda

[Hold on, there’s something coming Fast - Counterattack Dreamer, special - Willy Wonka Car - Honda]

I mean, it’s a song about a Honda driver? I struggled quite a bit with finding a song for Alex, but when I first listened to this song, my mind threw his name at me in blinking neon letters, so this is the vibe we’re going with - a funky fast Honda driver <3 (PS: I have no clue what the Willy Wonka thing is about but....why not)

Carlos - Habibi (Casar)

Sie schreibt: "Habibi", denn sie vermisst mich Ich fahre weit davon mit mein'n Hermanos

[She texts me “Habibi” because she misses me I drive far away with my hermanos]

I can only listen to the word “hermanos” so many times without my mind associating it with Carlos, so this one was a rather obvious choice for me as well. Also, there are some parts about Spain in this song so I had to be lame and do the obvious with this one.

Lando - 500 PS (Bonez MC, RAF Camora)

Ich drück' aufs Gas, hör' die 500 PS Fahren durch die Stadt, GTA Los Angeles

[I step on the gas, hear the 500 HP Cruising through the city, GTA Los Angeles]

This one’s a solid mainstream German rap song (not that I’d call Lando a mainstream person), liked to some extent by most people, and it gets you moving, which reminds me a lot of Lando. Cars and mentions of a video game make for a hit and Lando unites just that in person as well.

Daniel - Emotions 2.0 (Ufo361, Céline)

Baby, nimm einen Schluck Dom P. für die Emotions Ich erhöhe deine Dosis So viel Schmuck Mehr Drip als ein Ocean

[Baby take a sip Dom P for the emotions I’m increasing your dosage So much jewelry More drip than an ocean]

A bittersweet love song with rich boy summer vibes and one of my favorite German songs to be released this year, in fact, it’s my most listened to song on my phone, make for a combination that just screams Daniel to me. This song hits different when driving into the sunset in a fancy car or when biking through town at 1:30 am on three cans of Red Bull (believe me, I tried), and always reminds me of better times. It’s the ideal song to sing and rap along to, so that matches Daniel just fine.

Esteban - Einsneunzig (Brown-Eyes White Boy)

Bin fast einsneunzig, stell' mich auf die Bündel, das' ein Weltrekord Lass' die Zeit Revue passier'n, selbe Jungs und selber Ort

[I’m almost 1.90, stand on a wad of cash, that’s a world record Let’s recall the past, same guys and same place]

1.90 meters as a reference to Esteban’s height, obviously, simply made sense to me, once again. The second line reminds me of his feud with Pierre, so I had to choose this song. It’s better than Ratten im Hof (rats in the yard), and this reminds me of a wannabe gangster, which just screams Esteban to me, I’m sorry <3

Pierre - DAS RENNEN (RIN)

Ich hoff', eines Tages, wir gewinn'n das Rennen Wie bei Red Dead Redemption Irgendwann der Letzte wie Shanks Spinner Rims glänzen

[I hope one day we win the race Just like in Red Dead Redemption One day the last like Shanks Spinner rims are shining]

I know no one will believe this story but I started working on this post like half a year ago and I chose that song for Pierre back then and uhm, manifestation worked, I guess? Once again, I’m a big fan of Rin’s music, so choosing this song for Pierre is a bit like selfcare. The lyrics mention changing the world and well, so far Pierre has as least changed my world 😌

Daniil - One Night Stand (Capital Bra)

Ty moja ljubimaja Takaja diwnaja, krasiwaja-ja Sprawjedliwaja, njepobjedimaja Ty moja-ja, Baby, ty moja-ja

[You are my darling Such a wondeful, beauty Fair, invincible You’re mine baby, you’re mine]

I really hope I got that translation more or less right but other than that, I didn’t simply choose that song based on the Russian part. It’s a song we used to listen to a lot a few years ago and one of those from the days where Capital Bra was famous but less so than he is today. It reminds me of simpler times and it’s a pretty vibey song that, if you allow it to, draws you in and makes you dance. I have a soft spot for Daniil and the song reminds me a bit of him.

Lance - Bronx (Veysel)

Du musst doppelt zahlen, deshalb krieg' ich es umsonst Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, eine Villa irgendwo Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, ein paar Villen irgendwo

[You have to pay double that’s why I get it for free Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a mansion somewhere Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a few mansions somewhere]

This is a song that you have to listen to on high volume in a fast car, one that once again has really badass vibes. It’s nice to rap along to and hard not to move to. The rich boy vibes in the chorus that I’ve included in this post are pretty inevitable and logically, I had to associate that with Lance. When I turn this song on, everyone enjoys it, and I think Lance deserves to evoke that emotion in everyone as well.

Sergio - AVENTADOR (Dardan, Eno, Noah)

Roll' im Aventador Ich fahr' grad vor Gebe Gas, sag': "¡Adiós!"

[Roll in an Aventador I hit the road Step on the gas, say “¡Adiós!”]

I mean yeah, I could have chosen that song only because of the Adiós but that’s a bit lame even for me. Instead, the entire fast car vibe reminded me a lot of Checo. I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for him and this year he once again showed people ([coughs] my brother) that he’s been severely underestimated. So stepping on the gas and outpacing everyone else felt like the right vibe.

Kimi - Sorry Not Sorry (Monet192, Takt32, badmómzjay)

Was du für Karriere machst, mach' ich als Hobby Was du für Probleme hast, interessiert keinen

[What you made your career, I do as a hobby What problems you have, no one cares]

The title itself embodies Kimi and so does the entire song. The not giving a shit vibe, paired with the mention of the hobby thing as an indirect reference to the famous Kimi quote about seeing his job more as a hobby, are just 100% Kimi. I really couldn’t have found a better song for him. 

Antonio - Maserati (RAF Camora)

Capo dei capi Trip noch im Alfa, doch bald Maserati

[Capo dei capi Trip still in an Alfa but soon in a Maserati]

I did very much not choose the song because “capo dei capi” (the boss of bosses) is a mafia related thing, but because of the Alfa part, duh. Roadtrips in an Alfa along the Adriatic coast are cool and all but a Maserati is obviously the main goal, and that reminds me of Antonio quite a lot ~for some reason~. The entire part about making it far in life without a “serious” job is just very F1, so the vibes are there. Happy very belated birthday Toni <3

Romain - HOCH (CRO)

Alles holt dich down, lass es einfach los Und die Dinge unter dir sind gar nicht mehr so groß Ich schau' nach oben und auf einmal geht's hoch

[Everything drags you down, just let it go And the things below you are not as big anymore I look up and suddenly it goes upwards]

This song is just very peaceful and calms my mind when I listen to it, which radiates the same comforting vibe as Romain. The topic of rising despite things dragging you down are a very prominent topic here and reminded me a lot of him, especially with him leaving Haas and everything around that. It just feels nice to listen to a bit of an uplifting song once in a while, and this one does it in a way that still allows you to feel calm and safe, which is something I associate with Romain a lot.

Kevin - Vorbei (Nico Rosseburg, Sierra Kidd)

Sag mir bitte, wie passe ich die Zeit? Der Augenblick war schön, doch es ist vorbei

[Please tell me, how do I pass the time? The moment was nice but now it’s over]

With Kevin leaving F1, I had to go for this song for him. It’s a bit more of a sad topic (so am I with the knowledge of him not being there next year) but without making the entire thing sound melancholic. I only really learned to appreciate Kevin this year and I’ll miss having him around, so this song kind of fits that idea for me.

George - 20 Zoll MAE (Celo&Abdi, Bonez MC)

Ich fahr' mit Schrittgeschwindigkeit, so wie ein Don Hättest gerne meine Felgen, aber wirst sie nicht bekommen

[I drive at walking pace like a Don You’d like to have my rims but won’t get them]

Making this solely about driving at walking pace would be a bit mean but there’s a part in the song soon after about looking beautiful in a Mercedes, so that’s pretty much George. The song just carries that fun vibe and the subtle (not really) flex, which makes it great to listen to if you want to get in a happier mood. It’s a song about Mercedes rims, of course I had to choose George 😔

Nicholas - Standard (KitschKrieg, SFR, Trettmann, Gzuz, Gringo, Ufo361)

Treff' mich in Miami, fliege nur noch First-Class Nur noch unterwegs, kriege Heimweh

[Meet me in Miami, only flying first class anymore Only on the road anymore, getting homesick]

More ~rich boy vibes~ and a song that has been playing what feels like 24/7 on MTV Germany the last two years. It got so bad that some people around me still reply in the trademark Gzuz voice when someone uses the word “standard”. Anyway, I associate this song with Nicholas because just like KitschKrieg did with their first “own” song, Nicholas has joined the game and left an impression on everyone, in one way or another, and I’m willing to see/hear more of that :)

[joe-maristopher]

«WandaVision»: 3. Wanda, dear, do we have a problem?

Boom! We have a mention of Pietro, Ultron, Shakespeare (ah, Vision's an ntellectual), neighbors with a slight horror in their eyes, unjustified speed of events, as well as the subtext "Wanda in her world is a king and the god". And yes, that awesome soap ads! The slogan is a reference to Wanda's newfound abilities, I think. I keep my eyes on Agnes and prepare an invitation for her to go to the evil characters' bench. You can't be sure of anything, but who knows, she is able use the situation for her own purposes and be a helper of Mephisto.

Let's talk about the kids and the speed of everything.

I've never been a fan of Billy and Tommy in the first place. I don't understand all the excitement associated with them, and I remember that everything ended after their appearence... badly. Besides. I've always wondered why Wanda rode into the magical wilds and didn't think/want to solve the problem any other way. Adoption, for example. Donor sperm. Something else. Why was it necessary to create such problems, taking pieces of Mefisto´s soul, and thereby laying a huge dynamite under her family?

Let's say, our Wanda goes with a different vector, without the insane desire of a crazy momma-wannabe, but the children are still demonic? Playing with Mephisto's shadow isn't for nothing, is it?

I can't help but notice that Wanda's pregnancy in the comics also appeared suddenly. I might have forgotten something, because I was laughing so hard while reading the pages, but it was like this, the quotes are not accurate.

Wanda: I WANT A REAL FAMILY WITH KIDS. WANTWANTWANT!

The magic poof!

And Wanda is on the eve of her confinement. I don't remember Vision's reaction...

Our Vision was as surprised as I was, because in normal life, it does not happen, even if you are a synthesoid (five points to Marvel for mentioning this term! Finally! We waited for the long time!). I felt like I was watching the Sims with their woohoo and three-day pregnancy. It was all very fast, and I couldn't even blink. I didn't like that part, honestly. Something is missing. I also don't like that Marvel didn't focus much on Wanda and Vision, and instead our characters existed for fast-paced development, plot tools for introducing the twins, and Geraldine-Monica's "deportation" beyond the bubble. In other words, long periods of time are reduced to the limit.

A small question. The child is already doing magic (and Wanda calmly allows)?

Creepy moment. Let's talk about Vision again.

I thought that my screen glitched or the cat walked on the keyboard, so I didn't notice... Wanda, we have a real problem... And a new question. In the opinion for the first two series, I posted a list of the questions and now it gonna be expanded. We're still walking in the fog.

So... Vision is an illusion? Highly likely! Who would give us a resurrected Vision, right? Marvel won't let us be happy, and neither will Wanda.-_-

But if Vision was an illusion, controlled, a Wanda's puppet, then why did he even begin to think about what was happening, to understand that something was happening? Why? And how many times has this actually happened, off-screen? Fic-writers, let's go! And I'm probably going with you.

I also remember Vision's face when their dinner went wrong. So what are you, Vision? And by the way, how much control do you have? The feelings are your own, aren't they? Yes, Marvel?! Don't mess with me here. Don't make the shippers angry, they're already traumatized by the comic book versions of Wanda and Vision.

A lyrical digression.

There is one more thing that I want to touch, connected with all above. A certain Twitter user previously guessed or knew the names by which Wanda and Vision will be in the series. Before the release of the series, I ask you to note. I'm talking about Illusion and Glamour. Back then no one took it seriously, but after the release of episodes, the account began to be studied almost under a microscope. There is a long history with the renaming of acc, creating new acc with the same info, it's not the point. The same acc wrote that what we see isn't Vision, but Wonder Man, who thinks he is Vision..

I have a confession. I can't stand Wonder Man and everything that goes with him, including his shenanigans with Wanda. I just hate this stuff. Who doesn't know: Wonder Man and Vision have a connection in the comics, Wonder Man's brainwaves formed the basis of Vision's, correct me if I am wrong. So, technically, they're kind of brothers. Difficult, you may say? It's comics, kids! In short, if it really turns out to be so — I will consider it a personal insult. I'm sorry, but I love Vision and I watch the show with him, not with someone else.

Also, in general, Marvel owed us one moment, and it's good if they remembered about it and give a serial explanation: for all the years of Endgame, you did not try to do anything with the Vision's body? Where is it? In what condition? Tony forgot and didn't remember Vision?

Screw it!

Okay, okay, I've calmed down. I return to the subject and stop burning with righteous anger.

Illusion or not, we know from the trailers that Vision will posibly receive an information about his death. I see how it can go: It turns out that Vision learns the truth, Wanda is not there to stop him, he decides to find out everything from Wanda, but the moment is not very good, because the agents of S. W. O. R. D doing their job, and Wanda is already in the berserk mode... And it ends badly.

Creepy moment. A sad moment. Give Wanda some cocoa and a warm blanket. Please.

That was full of pain. Wanda could try and run from her memories, or force herself to forget them, but they are coming back with suspicious questions from a stranger, with jewelry on someone's neck. Wanda's upset, the neighbors ara glitching (to Vision´s concern), and under the iceberg of family life with two newborns and a lullaby for them, there are the abyss, hiding... Creepy and painful.

I am kinda dissaponted with the 3rd episode, but still enjoyed some moments and still want to save Wanda from this darkness.

[sphinxsmuses-archived]

ooc: All available muses/characters with bio pages!

Fandomless:

Midori Mihata (A clumsy, scared ninja girl who one  would possibly say is the worst ninja ever. Wants to make her clan proud and tries hard to be the best she can be. Also gets rather flustered and shy around boys.)    

Nier Automata:

10B/Decima (A Battle Unit Android of YorHa who shows more emotion than most.  Flirtatious and protective of those she cares about, almost overly protective and will gladly kill for them. When fighting machines, she  can almost come off as psychotic.)

Pokemon:

Chiyumi Muzai (A Pokemon trainer from Hearthome with an Empoleon named Pippin as her starter and a friendly Altaria by the name of Peeps and many more Pokemon. Shy and  slightly clumsy and tends to attract Pokemon when she doesn’t want to)

Blair Mahou (Braixen Gijinka who thinks she is a magical girl. Flirty and mischievous sometimes but mainly likes to help  people with her ‘powers’. Likes to put on a show in order to gain  reputation and hopes to get her own tv show)

Piper/Peeps (An Altaira Gijinka girl who can’t speak human very well and tends to just say Peep or chirp or hum. Very innocent and naive and loves to give hugs to people and can be a tad air-headed.)

Fairy Tail:

Emilia Clarimond (Emilia is a Celestial Wizard  with the Jade Zodiac Keys, Mouse, Monkey, Tiger and Sheep! She is  clever, stubborn, hard headed but can become friendly when she gets close to someone. To her, her Zodiac summons are like family. Has a Fate series Master verse!)

Genshin Impact:

Kyana Aeira (A Pyro Vision user from Mondstadt who dreams of becoming a Knight of Favonius one day. She works hard taking on random tasks from the people to prove herself capable. She is  determined and optimistic and tends to  listen more to her emotions than think with logic. Has a One Piece AU!)

Fandomless:

Iyumi Akuma (A bratty, whiny, wannabe queen with high delusions. She can be a major  pain, demanding attention or demanding  servants but deep down wants a  king to serve and be submissive towards. Can change to be better with  time. Has a Genshin Impact verse, a Pokemon verse, a Demon verse and a Dark Goddess verse!) 

Yugioh:

Miyuki Tenshi (A sweet, kind-hearted girl with a deck of angelic creatures revolving around Sanctuary in the Sky. She has the duel spirit of Happy Lover and is convinced she is the only one who has one as she has yet to meet anyone else who can see her. Has multiple AU verses including a fairy au, angel au and Light Goddess verse that goes with Iyumi!)

Aku Yazoi (A wannabe punk boy who is hot tempered and  tries to act cool but is a sucker for cute girls. Is kind of a dweeb. Is from 5Ds. Also has fandomless verse for non-Yugioh threads)

Monster Hunter:

Sonafuwa (A Paolumu who gained the ability to turn human. Sonafuwa is shy and tends to stay in the trees and away  from hunters so she won’t get hunted. When she meets someone friendly,  she becomes more calm and is happy to make a new friend.)

Sakura (A Pink Rathian that gained the ability to turn human. Territorial at  first but can become friendly if she sees the other means no harm.  Prissy and doesn’t mind Hunters so long as she isn’t their target.)

Fandomless:

Ourania Thanos (A dragon that can turn into a human. Cocky, egotistical, and  loves to show off to others. Loves to fight people just to fight strong opponents  and also loves to eat lots of meat and drinks lots of ale. Has a Monster Hunter verse where she is a Zinogre gijinka)  

Kingdom Hearts:

Xia Malificia (A Nobody who is flirtatious, mischievous, and a bit manipulative. She wants to become a part of Organization XIII and use them for her own  ends. A trouble maker. Has multiple AUs including a One Piece AU.)

Diana Fotieni (A keyblade wielder with a keyblade that is supposed to represent a  balance of light and darkness. But Diana believes all darkness should be  eradicated to protect the people. Acts rather knight like. Has a Pokemon verse, Final Fantasy 15 verse and a Fire Emblem Three Houses verse!)

Fandomless/Disgaea:

Zalira Deona (A succubus who doesn’t really do succubus things. Her mom and dad are  a powerful incubus and succubus pair who wanted her to follow in their  footsteps. But all Zalira wanted was to laze around and eat human snacks and indulge in their culture (like manga!). Before they could send her to a demon academy, she ran away from home and ended up among humans.)

Fandomless:

Chloe Thaleia (Mischievous thief from a family of  thieves looking for her older  brother who left home when she was a  child. Will steal from you playfully then give it back once she’s caught. Has a magical greatsword she stole that can use the four  elements but she has no idea how to  use it.)

Aiolos Thaleia (Older brother of Chloe. After witnessing his uncle (who had taught them all they know about being a thief) break the family code by  murdering someone, he decided to go on a different path and leave the family. He strives to be a knight or a guard, something he sees as more honorable.)

[everything-laito]

Never expected the Laito vs Shin CD to be this deep on Laito’s side. Hi, I’m back at it again with another long rant.

Hiiii! It’s Corn here, with a long awaited analysis of the Laito vs Shin drama cd! 

I didn’t expect to like this pairing as much as I did, but honestly Shin’s abrasiveness brought more out of Laito than I expected. Maybe it’s also the combination of Laito struggling to keep himself restrained. 

If you wanna hear my shitpost 2 am reactions to this, here’s the link. I go back now and realize I forgot some stuff in my notes to put in there, but oh well haha. If you want me to release the ones I forgot let me know lololol, my 2 am ramblings are pretty funny in hindsight. Thank you to @/dialovers-translations for providing the translations to these CDs! If you want to check the CD out for yourself, here it is. And as always, if you want to add anything, feel free to! Huge analysis under the cut :)

So the CD starts off with Laito and Yui. They’re in public somewhere and Laito’s being… Laito. But he’s trying to be quiet which was off putting for me at first. Anyways, this takes place right after the Lost Eden ending. I will admit I haven’t played Lost Eden or has seen the translations yet (I like playing the games as I do) but I do know that in in some endings the Sakamakis (and Mukamis???? I think??? Not sure) inherit daddy ketchup’s power. (I think it’s all of them that do in their endings but correct me if I’m wrong). 

So we know that Laito doesn’t like violence from him saying it multiple times in past games, drama cds, etc. He also mentioned in Haunted Dark Bridal that he doesn’t like family politics and has no interest in having the throne/Karl’s power. So, safe to assume from the start he doesn’t like having this power. And oh boy he is NOT having it. 

In my notes of the first track I made a quip of that Laito’s been kind of a “wannabe romantic.” I know that’s not the best way to describe it, but he’s like “human girls like this right?” or “this is what you do in a relationship, right?” (And he either puts his own twist on it or it ends up being More Blood’s vampire ending). So in this he holds your hand, no tricks, no nothing. I know this is a result of Rejet’s writing change after HDB, but also I think it’s some development on Laito’s end too (either way, it’s cute as hell). I honestly took this as him trying to distract himself from the power he now has; one that he never wanted in the first place. And we know Laito: master of distracting himself from his own issues and other people. 

Laito: “Fufu…You’re shaking~ In that case, should we just dive down from here while I hold you in my arms? …We’ll reach the ground in no time, but it might be reaaaaaally scary.”

Laito: “I’m not going to jump down. After all, I’ve decided I won’t use these powers no matter what.”

Although it takes some deeper knowledge of Laito, he definitely is using the ol “making fun of things I’m insecure about = coping mechanism” plenty of people like to do. He’s teasing himself; making a little quip of it and then kinda turning serious, yet still remaining his “~playful Laito façade~” self. In my notes I say that I’m glad Rejet stuck by with Laito’s whole “I have no interest in these powers” kinda thing. I also think that it scares him, on top of the fact that he just doesn’t give a shit. Or him having the “I don’t give a shit” attitude is a cover up for that fear? We’re gonna go deeper into that, my fellow sinners. 

Before I get into that, I just wanted to point out yet another quote that follows the ones that I put. 

Laito: “Don’t look so puzzled. This is the human world, isn’t it? It would be odd. There’s no hidden meaning behind it. That’s all.”

I liked my note in response to this quote: “H A H don’t be so DAFT, Laito, you’re the KING of double meanings. I know this is a liiiieeeeee” and man, I gotta agree with my cryptid self. He’s using the fact that it’s the human world as an excuse for him to not use his powers. Which…. Is a valid excuse. But this is also Laito we’re talking about. And he just sucked your blood in public. And moaned. I can see right through you man. Laito without double meanings is just…. He can’t exist. There’s no way. Sure he’s developed but if he’s still sticking with his façade from time to time, it’s a safe assumption; deductively. 

As for Laito fearing his powers, it really starts to prove itself by Track 02. Shin finds him, attacks him with wolves, and Laito STILL doesn’t use his powers, even in self defense. For a man that has 0 self restraint typically,,,,,, he really can restrain himself for the most specific things. This further supports my claim that Laito’s scared of himself with these powers. He’s also just really dedicated to his morals, whether they’re falsified morals he created himself in self defense, or ones that go deep to his core (oh shit, another analysis idea???). 

Then… Laito got angry, and attacked Shin in the process (this happens in track 04. Shin steals Yui in track 03). Again, I know I just said he’s pretty dedicated to his morals. But it’s an oddly human thing to do; breaking your morals once in a while to achieve something. We’ve all done it at least once in our lives. Then Laito beats himself up over letting his angry emotions get to him. And we get such a moving scene.

Laito: “Ah…Fuck…! Why…! Why!? Why did I let myself fall for such an easy taunt!? …Bitch-chan? I’m weird, right now, aren’t I? Because of that guy’s powers…Aren’t I going crazy?”

Laito: “…!? I…I’ve been composed this whole time. Yet…Why do you tell me such a thing!? Just as I thought…You also think that I’m becoming weird! If not, you wouldn’t look at me with those eyes!”

Laito: “Don’t touch me…!! If you touch me…You’ll be corrupted as well.”

Laito: “Fufufu…Ahaha…! I’m not corrupted? No, haven’t you experienced it first-hand? That man’s sullied blood and powers are flowing through this body of mine. Even though I don’t need them…! Even though I never wished for them…! Why…!? Why did I have to get these things forced upon me!? Fuck!”

I know that Japanese doesn’t technically have swear words like we do. He says 「くそ」 (“kuso”) which is an interjection that describes something that’s outrageous. Which is why it gets translated into “damn!” “Shit!” “Fuck!” Based on the context and aggressiveness. But, Laito rarely ever says 「くそ」, and he said it a LOT in this CD. And that’s what really caught me off guard. 

So, SO much is said in those quotes I cannot even begin to fathom. So let’s break it down. 

Firstly, as I mentioned, He’s beating himself up (as well as gaslighting himself(?) Is that possible?) over breaking his own morals and not wanting to have these powers in the first place. And he uses Karl as a scapegoat, as he (and the other brothers) have a habit of doing. Also, he refers to his powers as “that guy’s powers.” He hasn’t even accepted that they’re his, and that’s also what’s really sad.

Then the second line. “I’ve been composed this whole time.” Well we, as Laito fans, know that what we usually see Laito is a façade. But this, right now, is raw Laito, baby. He then kinda gets a paranoia of some sort, trying to read your eyes (which is most likely sympathetic, not thinking he’s weird) in order to blame it on someone, or continuing to gaslight himself. And the third line… Wow that hit hard for me in the feels. You know how Laito usually says he wants to corrupt you? Steal your innocence? (Again, projection, from what Cordelia made him feel). This also further supports the notion that Laito doesn’t think that highly of himself (well, people who have some type of superiority complex do. And he definitely does, sometimes on Ayato levels) and also the fact that he still keeps that façade up. Probably to protect these inner feelings. Again, his statement about his composure says as much. 

It’s then implied that Yui tries to comfort him, saying that he’s not corrupted. He continues to not listen to her and kinda say his bottled up feelings. God that last quote, and the way he says it,,,, ugh god it’s so heartbreaking. As we previously knew, he didn’t want these powers at all. He never wanted to be in any part of Karlheinz’s games. He just wanted to live the way he wants to (even if it is,,,, an unhealthy mindset to live in). He says it in such a fearful and tragic way. Again, he’s afraid of himself with these powers. He’s trying to build back up his facade or adjust it in any way that he can to avoid it, but right now, it’s too much for him. 

Laito: “Bitch-chan, you see. As long as she has someone to make her feel good, she will make do with anyone. …Power does not matter. That’s what being a ‘Bitch-chan’ is all about, isn’t it?”

Shin: “Che! You’re just spouting random crap! You won’t deceive me.”

Laito: “Heh…There, there…Don’t glare at me like that..We’ve come all the way up here…It would be foolish to waste our time talking about power dynamics. Let’s enjoy ourselves…I don’t care about complicated stuff. To me, this is everything.”

I actually said something coherent enough in my 2 am notes in response to this to pretty much put it in here verbatim: 

Damn, this boy really just wants to vibe and avoid responsibility (I mean, don’t we all Laito) but he just has to face it. I kinda realize through this drama cd that Laito just… doesn’t wanna face complexity too. He doesn’t, never has. Violence is too complicated, getting involved with Cordelia and Ayato’s relationship by standing up for Ayato as a kid is too complicated, getting on Cordelia’s “good side” (which is uh,,,, awful) is too complicated. 

Putting up that whole perverted façade in order to hide from his own feelings; holy shit idk how I didn’t notice this blatantly before. I didn’t know it would take Shin to make me realize this. Laito never asked for any of this happening to him (none of the boys really did; at least for their pasts). Goddamn, when I try to look at the overly complex stuff, I miss the simple shit so easily. People in real life try to escape like this––using sex and pleasure––just like Laito. 

(Can’t believe I said that at 2 am omg) But, to add onto that, the whole “That’s what being a ‘Bitch-chan’ is all about, isn’t it?” Has SO much meaning to it. First of all, it’s a question. Which raises uncertainty about a subject. This subject is what being a ‘Bitch-chan’ is. It’s phrased in a desperate way that this is Laito’s way to ask you to help. And that’s huge. Also, I think it’s Laito’s way of saying to not judge him right now, and to still accept him for who he is. If he really thought that Yui was that “loose” of a woman with no standards, he wouldn’t have cared to say this, or implied his purpose: which is wanting to make Yui feel good. Which, I think in Laito terms, means “wanting to make Yui happy.” And he wants to continue to be there with her through this double meaning. And wow. That’s,,,,pretty poetic.

Last note; I know that Shin even said or implied (I’m too lazy to go back to the direct quote) that he was like “bruh get over yourself, these are your powers now, get used to it” (which set Laito off I believe). And going in, I didn’t think I’d get much out of this duo in terms of development, but WOW, there’s a chock full of stuff. 

If you’ve made it this far, congrats! Holy crap I think this is longer than the Hilde analysis. 

Thanks for reading as always! -Corn