#until years later when their very delayed heat catches up to them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scattered-irises · 2 years

Text

Tale XV: Tấm Cám (▬▬▬)

ANNNNDDD I’m back! This is the longest and penultimate tale of my Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper fic! The epilogue has also been finished. I must say, I am very proud of my people for putting such a creative spin on the classical Cinderella story. I grew up with this story and now share it with you...but with a Zexal twist.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 25k (Rest in fucking pieces, just like some of the characters in this story)

Characters: Vector, Rei Shingetsu, Yuma Tsukumo, Ryoga Kamishiro

Relationships: Yuma/Vector

Warnings: Ahhh shit...here we go...Cannibalism, murder, death, Vietnamese and Chinese mythology, gore, animal death, abusive parents, reincarnation

Summary: A young peasant finds himself continuously reincarnating to return to the love of his life. With each reincarnation, his sanity wanes and his thirst for revenge grows.

Ngày xửa ngày xưa, có hai anh em sinh đôi. Anh tên là Tấm, em tên là Cám. Mẹ hai anh em mất lúc hai anh em mới sáu tuổi. Mấy năm sau, cha của Tấm và Cám cưới lại cho hai anh em có được mẹ hiền…

Allow me to translate that for you, if you don’t speak my story’s original language.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there were two twins. The older brother’s name was Tấm. It means “fragrant rice.” The younger brother’s name was Cám, which can be translated to “animal feed.” Their mother died when the twins were only six. A few years later, their father remarried in order for the twins to have a loving mother in their lives…

I’m sure you know where this is going, from your previous adventures with me.

That’s right! I’ve known that you were with me this entire time. I don’t care what you think about the poor or not-so-poor heroes and heroines. I can’t hear you. That’s the curse of my existence. I can do nothing about the fact that I am a character from a story, nor the fact that I know that I serve to only entertain and educate beings beyond my sight and hearing.

Condemn me, hang me, praise me. I’ve seen it all.

But you don’t care about this, do you? You only want to be entertained. You want to be entertained until your eyes melt off and your skin turns to sandpaper and your teeth fall out of your mouth.

Very well.

Entertain I shall.

To all the beings who can run their eyes across these words, here is the story that you have all been waiting for.

Mine.

H☆H☆S

…

Ah, right. Before we begin, let me tell you something about names. There are the names that we choose for ourselves and the names that everyone else calls us. The twins, for example, were known as Hansel and Gretel in the first tale. I translated their names to Ryoga and Rio because that was the name of their souls. Although characters’ names may change throughout each incarnation, their souls’ names will remain unchanged. Sometimes I’ll translate them for you, sometimes I won’t. It depends on how generous I’m feeling.

Anyways, Cám is the fairytale name of my twin, Shingetsu. Tấm was my name. We’ll be going by the names of our souls, just for convenience’s sake.

Alright, no more delays. Here comes the story.

H☆H☆S

“Vector, you cretin! What did I send you out in the fields for?!” bellows his stepmother.

Vector stares in open-mouthed shock at his empty basket. Quickly, he glances at his brother, whose expression remains placid. Their stepmother, Madame Sương, stomps over to Shingetsu. She puts a hand on her hip, long nails stretching across her stomach.

“And you…,” she begins, picking up Shingetsu’s basket. Her painted lips break into a smile. “Goodness! You must have worked so hard!”

She looks into the basket filled to the brim with river shrimp and pats Shingetsu’s shoulder.

“Thank you, mother!” says Shingetsu, basking in her praise. “Oh, please be kinder to brother…He just wanted to take a bath!”

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks. He had spent all morning catching those damn shrimp, stomping through mud and silt while Shingetsu sang and danced. After he had caught the shrimp, Shingetsu had offered to carry their baskets home while Vector bathed in the nearby stream. He digs his nails into his trousers. Why was he so foolish? As he meets their stepmother’s glare, he takes a deep breath.

“Shingetsu switched our baskets after he told me to take a bath!” he protests. “Then he carried both of the baskets home because he—”

“Vector! You’re the older brother! How could you be so irresponsible, blaming your brother like that?!” snaps Madame Sương.

“It’s the truth!” protests Vector.

His stepmother glares at him. It was difficult to tell her age, from her long, dark hair to her plump lips. There were rumors that she had enchanted Vector’s father, her mismatched eyes never revealing her true motives. With each move she made, her strange earrings chimed in response. Despite her beautiful appearance, her heart was as ugly and cold as stone.

“Shingetsu, get me the cane,” growls their stepmother.

“Yes, mother,” says Shingetsu.

Vector looks at his brother for support, only to see the same placid expression. Why did he keep on falling for Shingetsu’s ploys? His sweet lies, his unfulfilled promises, his kindly exterior…It seemed like everyone, including him, was under Shingetsu’s thrall.

“Mother, you have to believe me,” begs Vector. “I spent all morning—”

“Silence! All you do is spout lies about your brother. I’ve half a mind to cut your tongue out,” hisses his stepmother.

Vector purses his lips, swallowing the lump in his throat. He watches as Shingetsu runs off, never looking back. In the silence of the humid afternoon, a gnat buzzes by Vector’s ear. He bats it away, gritting his teeth. His brother had no right. No right to be loved better than he was, no right to be spared his punishments. After all, it was Shingetsu who had neglected his filial duty, not Vector. When their father fell ill, only Vector had remained by his side.

After their father’s death, Vector served their stepmother without complaint. It was he who stoked the fires, he who caught the fish, he who cooked. Shingetsu only pretended to help while sucking up to their stepmother. Surely, their stepmother must have been simpleminded (although Vector would never say that aloud). Because of Shingetsu’s endless praises and wheedling, she had always made sure that Shingetsu got the best. New clothes, the best morsels of food and whatever else pleased him.

“Mother, here,” says Shingetsu, returning from outside.

A glint fills their stepmother’s eyes as she takes the rod from her stepson. Vector grits his teeth and bends down, fingers digging into the soft earth.

“How many do you think he deserves?” she breathes, her burgundy eyes running across Vector’s back.

“Oh, mother, please…just ten!” cries Shingetsu.

Madame Sương laughs, each laugh sounding like a piece of shattered glass.

“Such a kind child you are…Fifty lashes it will be.”

Vector closes his eyes and grits his teeth. Someday, he would have his deliverance.

FWACK! The first hit lands squarely on his shoulders. Vector bites down a cry. His back has been lacerated with the lashes of his previous canings, a tapestry of scars for all to see. In his past life he must have sinned greatly to have received such abuse. Yet what exactly did he do to deserve such a fiend for a mother?

FWACK!

“This is to teach you a lesson that liars aren’t accepted in this household!” snaps Madame Sương.

FWACK!

Vector looks up to see Shingetsu standing in the corner of the room, his face unreadable. For a moment, their expressions mirror each other’s.

H☆H☆S

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” whispers Vector.

He leans over the well, his muscles screaming in pain. Slowly, he sprinkles rice into the water, waiting for his friend to appear. When he sees his fish’s silvery head peek up from the surface, a small smile fills his face.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” he whispers. “Stepmother was beating me.”

The two dots on top of the fish’s eyes furrow. Its mouth closes and opens, as if sympathizing with Vector. He lowers the tips of his fingers into the water, closing his eyes as his fish gently kissed each one. Compared to the hotness of his pain, the fish’s lips felt cool and reassuring. He looks into the fish’s golden eyes, bursting with intelligence. If only he could understand what it was trying to say.

“Oh, just another one of Shingetsu’s ploys…,” murmurs Vector. “You know how he is.”

The fish kisses his fingers once again.

Sometimes, he believed that the fish was his real mother, reincarnated as a fish to watch over him. He runs his hands over her cool scales. She was always there for him whenever he needed to talk. Often, his tears would fall into the wall and onto his fish-mother’s scales. Because of this, she often wore a sad expression when seeing him.

“They’re having dinner right now,” continues Vector. “I had the shrimps’ shells and heads to eat with my rice.”

He was always left with the undesirable parts of their meals, as if he were a dog.

“I’m full, don’t worry.”

Tonight, maybe he could pick some fruit from the village roads. His stomach growls at the thought.

“Vector! Where’s my tea?!” calls Shingetsu. “Mother wants some too!”

Sighing, Vector looks down at his fish one last time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

The fish lets out another voiceless sentence.

H☆H☆S

“That’s quite a limp, Vector!” exclaims Mr. Vân, their neighbor.

Vector shrugs in a noncommittal manner and continues down the village road.

“Don’t test your mother’s patience too much, you hear?!” calls the man.

Usually he would respond to Mr. Vân’s comments but today he found no energy. Dragging his feet down the village road, he stops as a couple of children run past him.

“What are you waiting for?!” calls the child. “There’s an imperial proclamation!”

An imperial proclamation? Vector slightly straightens up. Since when did the king bother to send envoys down to simple villages? Despite his aching muscles, he quickens his pace and walks faster towards the heart of the village. Along the way, various neighbors wave to him, all remarking on his limp. Vector forces a grin and carries on.

He knew what they said behind his back.

If only Madame Sương could be kinder to him. If only Madame Sương treated both Shingetsu and Vector equally. But perhaps it was because Vector was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck that his life was so hard. Already one foot in the grave, Madame Sương would push the rest of his body in eventually. They were all waiting for that day.

Then they could make a show of mourning, just like at his father’s funeral.

His stepmother had obscenely wailed during the entire ceremony, lamenting on what was to become of her and her two children. In silence, Vector and Shingetsu had held hands throughout the entire day, mirror images of solemnity. The day after the funeral, she began to burn their father’s books.

As he passes Mrs. Lan’s copse of banana trees, Vector hears a eunuch’s high and plaintive voice. Despite his bruises, he quickens his pace. Never before had he heard such an imperious accent!

“Hear ye, hear ye inhabitants of Sunflower Seed village! Hear ye, hear ye!” calls the young eunuch, sweating profusely under the summer sun.

He was surrounded by a retinue of guards, their white armor almost blinding to look at. The villagers look at Vector with pity and surreptitiously part the way for him. Mumbling his thanks, Vector limps to the front.

Disdain fills the eunuch’s green eyes as he looks at his audience. All of them were plainly dressed, most sporting patches on their shirts. Their feet were covered in dirt and their faces were bronzed by the sun.

“From the palace of King Yuma of House Hope, eighteenth of his name, Protector of the Amber Kingdom and Hero of the Song Yến, we bring news of victory over the marauding forces of the Turtle King!”

The villagers cheer over the victory. For as long as Vector lived, he had heard only snippets of the war. To hear that it had finally come to an end brings a twinge of relief to his heart. His stepmother was constantly threatening to send him off to fight for the king.

“To celebrate the continued independence of our kingdom, our great king is proclaiming a feast of endless bounty in the spring! All in the great Amber Kingdom are invited!” continues the eunuch.

Excited murmurs fill the village square. Vector’s heart skips a beat. He had always wanted to leave the village and see what was beyond the forest.

“Come old, come young, come poor, come rich! The king wishes to bless his people with plenty!” cries the eunuch. “The feast will begin on the first full moon of spring and continue until its waning!”

“How far is it, from here to the capitol?” asks Vector.

A hint of irritation crosses the eunuch’s face at being addressed without permission. He flutters his feathered fan and gazes at Vector with disdain.

“Two days on the swiftest steeds!” he declares.

The excitement in the village intensifies. After Vector’s question, various villagers clamor for their own questions to be answered. Vector slowly sinks away from the crowd, carrying the news of the king’s proclamation deep in his heart. Perhaps at the capitol, he could find a job as an apprentice. Then he could send money back home while Shingetsu took his place. Or, he could become a sailor. He could travel to the faraway places in his father’s books, from the frigid mountains of the Rhoine to the glass palaces of the Trien people. The treasures of the world would be his to discover then, endless and bountiful.

He makes his way towards the marketplace, the news slightly alleviating the pain in his legs.

H☆H☆S

“Vector! There you are!” calls Shingetsu as Vector returns with offerings for their father’s altar. “I prepared a meal for us while you were gone! Mother says it’s delicious!”

Taking Vector’s hand, Shingetsu pulls Vector inside.

“Just a moment! I need to clean father’s altar!” calls Vector.

Shingetsu pouts. His eyes turn to the altar, where their father’s photograph lies behind a plate of bananas.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t get upset if all the good parts are gone.”

Vector scoffs as he replaces the bananas with oranges. Since when did they ever save him anything good? After stacking the oranges on the plate, Vector lights an incense stick and bows to his father.

Please watch over Shingetsu and me as we make our way through this world. And please, watch over me as I make my way towards the capitol to find a new life for myself, prays Vector.

He bows four times and then places his incense in the holder. For a moment, he looks at his father’s photograph. Taken when he was young, he could see that he had inherited his father’s chin and sharp eyes. An avid reader and scholar, their father had always ensured that his sons received the best education. Vector swallows a lump in his throat as a memory fills his mind.

It was a lazy summer afternoon where his father returned home early from his post. They were all gathered in a hammock, gently swinging in the humid breeze. Shingetsu had fallen asleep on their father’s chest while Vector leaned on his shoulder. As their father chewed on some betel nuts, he told them a tale about children flying to a world filled with pirates and mermaids.

Oh, why was fate so cruel?

Bringing the bananas into the dining room, Vector pauses upon seeing the meal that Shingetsu had prepared. A large fish was splayed in the middle of the table, its silvery scales dimly shining in the light. His stepmother greets him with a cold smile.

“Come, child, sit. We haven’t had a family dinner in such a long time,” she calls.

Slowly, Vector lowers himself to the floor, placing the bananas by the fish. His hands shake as he takes a bowl of rice from the table.

“What’s the matter?” asks Shingetsu, his expression innocent.

“Where did that fish come from?” utters Vector.

Shingetsu grins, showing his sharp canines.

“I caught it with my bare hands in the stream today!” he chirps.

Their stepmother chuckles and puts a hand on Shingetsu’s shoulder.

“Your brother is quite the fisherman, isn’t he?”

The fish has no head to tell if it was actually his own fish. Vector picks up his chopsticks and puts a few slices of cucumber onto his rice.

“Oh, come on! You should try some before it gets cold!” urges Shingetsu.

“I…don’t have the appetite,” murmurs Vector. “One of the king’s eunuchs came to make an announcement today.”

Immediately, Shingetsu and their stepmother’s brows raise. Vector holds their expression with a brief flicker of satisfaction.

“The war against the Turtle King ended and to celebrate, the king is hosting a spring festival where all are invited,” relays Vector.

“When?!” demands his mother, nearly knocking the table over.

“The first full moon of spring. It’ll last until the moon wanes,” replies Vector.

Shingetsu and their stepmother exchange excited glances.

“Goodness! There’ll be so many eligible maidens there!” gasps Madame Sương.

“Oh, mother, do we have enough to tailor me new clothes?” wheedles Shingetsu.

“Of course, of course! Nothing but the best for my son!”

“I want something dark blue with bamboo patterns! And shoes! Yes, new shoes from Mr. Duyên as well!” adds Shingetsu.

“Of course! Of course!” agrees Madame Sương, cackling.

Vector quickly finishes his meal and slinks out to the backyard. The sounds of Shingetsu and Madame Sương laughing brings a wave of nausea up his chest. Panickedly, he runs to the well and taps on its walls.

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” hurriedly recites Vector.

Nothing. Vector wets his lips. He peers deeper into the well.

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” repeats Vector, his eyes filling with tears.

The well’s clear depths reveal nothing. His heart begins to race. Running to the refuse pile, he digs through the cucumber skins until he finds the fish’s head. Empty golden eyes with black dots for eyebrows. Dull silver scales. Despite the shaking in his limbs, he stumbles back into the dining room.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he cries, brandishing the fish’s head.

His stepmother briefly looks at him in shock. Then, she resumes her typical cool expression, arched brows slanted and lips slightly curved into a smile.

“You’ve raised it so well. It would be a pity for it to grow past its prime,” she replies.

Vector briefly turns to Shingetsu, who was avoiding his gaze. Surreptitiously, his brother slips a piece of fish into his mouth.

The world spins. Before he could scream again, Vector runs to his room. In the silence of his dark, dirt-floor room, he sobs. He muffles his cries into the hem of shirt, his eyes burning with rage and sorrow. He had raised that fish since she was a small guppy. One day it had merely appeared from the depths of the well, offering consolation to his grieving self. Each morning and night he had faithfully fed her rice from his own bowl, watching in awe as she grew.

When he was younger, he had dreamed that one day, the fish would grow big enough for him to ride. Then, it would take him across the ocean and to far away lands.

She was privy to all of his sorrows, all of his secrets and joys. He was certain that she had understood every word he said yet was powerless to reply.

His throat seizes up as he chokes down a sob, the fish’s head still clutched in his hand.

Like his mother, she had the same golden eyes. Her scales were the same colors as his mother’s hair. Even her expressions, aided by the two dots at the top of her eyes, resembled his mother’s. But perhaps he was just being too hopeful. The last photograph of their mother had been burned alongside their father’s books years ago.

“Child, why do you cry?” asks a young man’s voice.

Vector starts. Looking up, he gasps upon seeing a young man in white robes sitting on his bed. His hair is long and purple, curled at the ends. In the dim light, he slightly glows.

“Wh-who are you?” asks Vector.

He hurriedly looks for a weapon. The young man takes out a curled piece of wood and taps it against Vector’s bed.

“Can’t you see? I’m a sage!” he says indignantly.

Vector stiffens.

“Sages are supposed to be old, with white hair and beards!” protests Vector. “Just where did you come from?!”

He’s answered by a huff and crossed arms.

“Alright, I’m a sage-in-training,” mutters the young man. “I’ll earn my beard in a thousand years.”

A snort escapes from Vector, deepening the sage’s frown.

“I’ve never heard of that. Where did you come from?” he asks.

Surely he wasn’t from the village. His robes were far too fine and his skin far too clean. The young man’s nostrils flare and he crosses his arms. He glares at Vector with his unnaturally blue eyes. In the darkness of the room, they slightly glow. Despite this, Vector can’t help but think of a petulant child. He bites his tongue, trying to keep himself from smiling.

“I told you! I come from the court of the Jade Emperor! Before I can earn my beard, I have to help a million souls!” snaps the sage.

“You definitely don’t act like one,” retorts Vector. “Sages are supposed to be calm and possess otherworldly knowledge. You’re just a brat.”

The sage’s face turns an alarming shade of red. He digs his nails into his wooden staff and lets out a long suffering growl. Throwing his head up in the air, he exhales.

“If I told you to bury your fish-mother’s bones beneath your bed, would you listen to me?” he asks in a slow and controlled tone.

Vector raises a brow.

“Why? It would stink to high heaven.”

For a moment, the sage’s lips twitch in the facsimile of a smile.

“As you’ve noticed, that fish isn’t just any fish. It’s a magic fish, imbued with your mother’s love. She won’t rot and will come back to help you in your time of need,” explains the sage.

“And all I need to do is bury her bones?”

“That’s right.”

Vector looks down at the fish head and scoffs.

“For a sage, you’re very human,” he remarks.

When he looks back up at his bed, the youth is no longer there. In the darkness, he stares at the empty space. Perhaps he had become so angry that he ended up hallucinating the entire ordeal. Despite that, the young sage’s advice gives him a hint of hope. With his bare hands, he begins to dig a small hole beneath his bed.

H☆H☆S

Buoyed by the thought of the festival and the appearance of the young sage, Vector worked tirelessly from dusk to dawn. As the days grew closer, he could feel the heaviness lifting from his shoulders. Soon he could be free. He could serve his family in a different way, by sailing the seas or by learning a valuable craft. Free from the cruelties of his stepmother, no task would be too hard.

One morning, Vector approaches the table with bowls of congee and freshly picked cilantro.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, mother,” begins Vector.

Madame Sương raises a finely plucked brow.

“Speak,” she commands.

“May I go to the king’s spring festival with you?” asks Vector.

Slowly, their stepmother’s eyes turn to Shingetsu, who was sipping from his congee.

“What do you think, Shingetsu?” she drawls.

His twin brother breaks into a vibrant smile, similar to when they were young. Each tooth shines like a pearl.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes! Please, mother! Vector’s been working so hard!” wheedles Shingetsu.

Their stepmother chuckles and sips her morning tea.

“Very well. You may go,” she says, setting down her teacup.

Her voice hardens and her eyes narrow.

“But only if you finish your chores,” she warns.

Vector lets out a sigh and his shoulders lower. He smiles a genuine smile and bows.

“Thank you, mother. Of course I will,” he says.

Soon, soon, he would be free.

“Now hurry along. I want the best fabrics for our clothes,” she says.

“May I choose some fabrics for myself?” asks Vector.

Their mother’s red lips tighten into a thin line.

“I’m afraid there isn’t enough money from our tenant farmers for that. You’ll have to find something of your father’s to wear.”

Vector’s smile remains pasted on his face.

“Of course. Apologies.”

Him, wear the clothes of his father? He would be the talk of the village!

Vector walks out of the house and briefly looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. He still had time before Miss Nhi’s shop opened. Opening the hatch to the house’s cellar, he climbs down. The mud walls are lined with shelves of preserves. Wine caskets line the floor, some empty, some filled. In the corner of the cellar is an old cedar trunk, a gift from Vector’s grandfather.

He pulls it into the center of the cellar and undoes the latch. Perhaps he could rework some of his father’s clothes into more modern styles. The clothes of an office clerk were far from flattering. Upon opening the chest, he is briefly brought back to the past by the smell of foreign cologne intermixed with cedar wood. Vector closes his eyes, remembering his father’s laughter.

Taking out the first outfit, he’s dismayed to find that the watered silk has been eaten through by moths. From its faded blue dye, this must have been his father’s wedding outfit. Lamenting its loss, Vector sets the outfit aside and takes out another one. The linen shirt in his hands has been spotted with mold. Sighing, Vector digs through the chest of clothes to no avail, each article of clothing ravaged by time and neglect.

“Vector!” snaps his mother. “Why haven’t you gone yet?!”

Vector drops a pair of torn trousers and looks up at the cellar’s exit.

“I’m coming!” he replies.

Hurriedly, he throws his father’s ruined clothes back into the chest. Surely, he would find something before the festival arrived…

H☆H☆S

I’m skipping some of the details here because the festival isn’t actually where the story ends. In fact, it’s where the true story begins. You probably don’t mind, since the beginning is pretty much like any other Cinderella story. Poor kitchen wretch gets tortured day in and day out until a magical being appears and saves them.

How many times have you heard this same story, over and over again?

Anyways, they worked me so hard afterwards that I didn’t have time to find any clothes for the celebration. I was up at dawn cleaning the house and then preparing breakfast for those two. In the afternoons I had to go to the market. Usually my stepmother would have sent me back afterwards, because I was always missing something. Then came the midday meal. Afternoons were spent tending to the garden, mending clothes or catching fish. Most of the time I had to cook dinner as well. Nights were usually spent washing clothes or sewing my stepmother and brother’s clothes.

You get the idea.

Before I knew it, the night where the entire village would ride off towards the capitol had arrived and I had nothing to wear.

H☆H☆S

“You’re positive that you’ve done everything?” drawls Madame Sương.

“Yes, mother,” replies Vector.

Madame Sương narrows her eyes.

“Ah, I almost forgot. Just one last favor, if you will,” she begins, eyeing Vector’s dirty clothes with disdain.

Compared to her and Shingetsu’s vibrant silks and flowers, Vector was nothing but a drab crow. How shameful it would be, to bring her raggedy child to the capitol for all to see! Madame Sương sneers at the thought.

“Fetch me baskets of red, green and black beans. I’ve half a mind to make the king’s favorite dessert drink for our journey,” says his mother.

Quickly, Vector calculates the amount of time it would take to brew the drink. Relief fills his chest. He would make it. Barely. If he ran fast enough after the caravan, he could hitch a ride with one of the stragglers.

“Yes, mother!” he says, running off.

He runs into the kitchen, placing the basket of green beans on his head and carrying the two other baskets. Upon returning, his stepmother beams.

“Excellent,” she says, taking the baskets from Vector. “Such a hardworking child…”

Upon taking the baskets, she immediately upends them onto the floor. Vector’s heart leaps into his throat. Looking up at his stepmother, he is met by her cold expression.

“Goodness, how clumsy I am. Once you can re-sort all of these beans according to their color, I see no problem with you joining us…,” drawls his mother.

Vector briefly looks up at Shingetsu, a lump in his throat. His brother helplessly shrugs.

“In these silks? Mother would scold me for ruining them!” protests his brother.

Madame Sương wraps her arm around Shingetsu’s, pulling him away.

“Oh no, don’t even think about it! Your brother is a fast worker. He’ll eventually reunite with us,” reassures their stepmother.

They leave in the light of the setting sun, their steps silent on the ground. Vector looks after them, his chest clenching in pain. Distantly, he could hear the bells and laughter of the festival caravan. Once again, his eyes burn.

He picks up a red bean and places it into the nearest basket. Then a black bean. Another red bean. Green. Black. Red. Black. Clenching his teeth, Vector sweeps the beans aside, cursing his fate.

Turning to his father’s altar, he yells,

“I was never unfaithful towards you or mother! What did I do to deserve this?!”

His father’s portrait remains silent. Vector clenches his fists and storms over to the altar. A dying ray of light illuminates the bowl of betel nuts.

“Why? Why was I given this fate? Why not Shingetsu?” he whispers.

The lump in his throat becomes harder to swallow. Tears brim in his eyes.

“We share the same face but not the same fate…”

From the beginning, he had been taught to honor his parents and their memory. This would sow good karma for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Shingetsu did nothing but play. When their father fell ill, he drifted further and further apart from their father’s sickbed. Vector grits his teeth.

“Those of unfaithful and ungrateful hearts will have their punishment due, whether in this life or the next,” remarks the voice of the young sage.

Vector whirls around, his heart skipping a beat. Sitting on the windowsill, the Sage looks at Vector with a resigned expression. His white robes are dyed orange by the setting sun, his shadow stretching across the floor.

“And what about me?” utters Vector.

The sage lazily blinks, a small smile on his lips. He slides off of the window sill and lets out a low and long whistle. Raising his staff, he chants,

“Feathered beasts, far and wide, sort these beans to the side. Green with gree, red with red and black with black. If you dare to eat even one of these beans, I won’t spare you flack.”

From his father’s altar, Vector watches as a flock of birds gather in the house’s entrance. They ranged from plain little sparrows to large herons. Gently, the sage strokes a heron’s beak as the birds flew into action.

“There. Now go to your bed and dig up your fish-mother’s bones,” instructs the sage.

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Vector hurries to his room. Quickly, he digs beneath his bed. When his fingers touch the tip of a clay urn, he pauses. Where had the bones gone? He continues digging until he unearths six small urns. Taking out the first one, he takes off his lid and spills its contents onto the floor. A miniature carving of a horse tumbles out. Made from fine ivory, it appeared as if it was a decoration from a foreign land.

Setting it aside, Vector takes out the second urn. Triangular packets wrapped in banana leaves fell out, one after the other. From the smell of it, Vector immediately knew that they were his mother’s bánh giò, a sticky rice cake stuffed with pork and a quail egg. He unwraps the first package. His stomach growls in hunger and his mouth waters at its tantalizing appearance. Taking his first bite, he briefly melts at its warm and familiar taste.

For a moment, he smells his mother’s perfume. He closes his eyes and chews, the warmth of the bánh giò lingering in his mouth. As the sun sets, he finishes his bánh giò. Although he had just one, it felt as if he had partaken in an entire feast. Looking down at the remaining packets, he found that there were three left. Putting them back in the urn, he moves onto the third one.

A series of bracelets and necklaces fit for a king spills out of the third urn. Even in the darkness of the room, the jewelry shimmers like the sun. Running the gold through his hands, Vector can only imagine what wealthy nobles could afford these.

The fourth urn contains robes of red and golden silk filled with intricate patterns of bamboo leaves. He runs the silk through his hands, its coolness similar to an evening breeze. The matching pair of trousers was made of the same material. Reaching into the fifth urn produces a headdress of gold dotted with flecks of rubies.

The final urn contains a pair of golden slippers embroidered with silver rabbits.

Vector briefly seizes up, his eyes filled with tears.

“Take that miniature horse to the front yard and then change,” instructs the sage from behind.

Turning around, Vector gives him a smile.

“Thank you,” he utters. “Thank you.”

The sage gives him a brief nod and then smiles, fading into the long shadows of the house.

Cupping the horse in his hands, Vector walks to the front of the house to find that the birds had made quick work of the beans. Then he walks out and places the horse by the door and returns to dress.

When he finished dressing, he walked into his stepmother’s bedroom on silent feet. Taking her prized bronze mirror from his stand, he walks into the final rays of day and looks at his reflection. In robes the color of beaten gold and red, he looked like a prince. Placing the mirror back on his stand, Vector picks up the urn of bánh giò from the floor and walks into the front yard.

A white horse whinnies at him, its body decorated by golden jewelry and leather satchels. Carefully, Vector places the urn in a satchel and approaches the horse. He offers the horse his hand. The animal nuzzles its head against his hand, its body cold like the ivory it was carved from.

“Hello there,” greets Vector. “Are you ready?”

The horse snorts in response. With a grin, Vector hops onto the horse and slowly trots towards the village procession.

Upon seeing him, Mr. Vân’s eyes widen.

“Vector!” he exclaims. “Where did you get those clothes and that fine horse?”

Vector smiles at his neighbor, eyes running down the portly man’s cerulean robes.

“My parents continue to provide for me, long after their death,” he replies.

Urging his horse into a gallop, Vector soon finds himself at the head of the procession and then ahead of it, blazing across the land in a streak of red and gold. No one except for Mr. Vân had recognized him.

H☆H☆S

“Who is he?”

“He must be an official!”

“Such stunning craftsmanship…”

“Could he be an envoy from the Turtle Sea?”

Vector slowly trots through the capitol, drinking in everyone’s awed stares and whispers. What would they have said, had they known that he was merely a peasant boy? He holds his head up, admiring the bright red lanterns and flowers that adorned the streets. In the capitol, everyone appeared to be wealthy, dressed in bright robes and shiny shoes.

The cobblestoned streets shone beneath the sun and soon, Vector could hear festive music. In the long convoy that followed behind him, there was a rich array of peasants and nobles. The peasants walked while the nobles rode on palanquins and horses. A small thrill filled Vector’s chest at being taken for a noble.

Unlike the quietness of the village, the capitol was in a constant buzz of excitement. Hawkers declared their wares. Shoppers constantly bargained. The restaurants and stores were always filled with curious customers. Never before had Vector seen so much food, the varieties and amounts almost endless.

He reaches into his horse’s satchel to find a bag of coins, which he then spends on some grilled meat. As he bites into the hot and fragrant meat, he closes his eyes in contentment. It was a perfect blend of paprika, pepper, salt and lemongrass.

“This is amazing!” he exclaims.

The cook bows at receiving such high praise. Vector grins, riding towards the center of the capitol. In the background, the royal palace loomed.

The closer he got to the center of the festivities, the slower the pace of the convoy. His heart beat with anticipation, wondering what he would witness at the festival. If the capitol was already this abundant, what would the festival hold?

When he finally arrived, he was greeted by an explosion of color. Flowers from all parts of the world adorned the streets. Troupes of singers, dancers and acrobats filled the streets. There was music in every corner. The streets were filled with people, all gathered together in harmony. Tables filled with food were constantly restocked. There were ten roast pigs, laid across the red tables in a row.

Dismounting, Vector startles upon seeing his horse vanish. A weight fills his pocket and he reaches in to find that the ivory carving of the horse laid there.

Now free, Vector runs towards the tables laden with food. It seemed that everywhere he went, the festival goers cleared the way for him.

Grabbing a meat bun from a table, Vector takes a small bite. Its warmth brings a smile to his face. With his other hand, he takes a pastry wrapped in banana leaves.

“How now, young noble!” calls a scholar across from him.

Vector lowers his head in greeting.

“And from what province do you come from?”

“Moonshadow Province!” replies Vector.

The old scholar’s bushy eyebrows raise in surprise.

“What’s a handsome young scholar like you doing in such a rural place?”

“I was born there,” responds Vector.

The old man splutters in surprise while Vector happily eats his food.

Throughout the day, Vector is met by similar responses. Never before had he felt so full, the tables constantly replenished with food. Never before had he felt so happy, surrounded by opportunities galore. Everywhere he went, people cleared the way for him.

When the sun was low in the sky, a hush fell over the festival as people gathered together to dance. Rumors filled the capitol as the sun set. Girls giggled while men puffed up their chests. The king was said to participate in the sunset dance.

As they gathered in the square, Vector clasped hands with a young man with tanned skin and bright eyes. Women looked at him in envy while Vector exchanged smiles with the young man.

“What’s your name?” asks Vector.

The young man’s grin brightens, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

“It’s Hy Vọng,” he replies. “You?”

Vector raises a brow.

“That’s an unusual name,” he remarks. “I’m Tấm.”

Hy Vọng closes his eyes, a wistful smile over his face.

“‘Fragrant rice,’ huh? That’s my favorite! Drizzled over with some green onions in fat and that’s a perfect meal!”

Vector looks at the young man’s finely tailored clothes and his simple tastes in surprise. Hy Vọng chuckles.

“You don’t believe me, do you? I should make you some!”

“O-oh, no, I’ve had some! Every morning, actually,” confesses Vector as the music begins.

Now it was Hy Vọng’s turn to be surprised.

“You? I thought nobles liked you loved your three-course breakfasts!”

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks. He’s thankful that the sun was setting.

“I’m not a noble!” he confesses.

His companion looks at Vector’s jewels and fine robes doubtfully. He slightly frowns, tapping his chin with a finger.

“Not a noble? Only a noble or a god could afford such clothes,” he remarks. “What kind of god are you?”

“I’m a simple village boy whose parents continued to provide for him, long after their deaths,” replies Vector, pulling Hy Vọng into the dance.

“Parents, huh?” murmurs Hy Vọng. His eyes grow distant.

Vector’s smile fades upon seeing Hy Vọng’s melancholy expression. He squeezes Hy Vọng’s hands.

“They died when I was very young,” adds Vector.

A moment of silence passes by as Hy Vọng’s expression falls. His eyes briefly pull away from Vector’s and into the past.

“Mine too,” he murmurs.

“Really?” breathes Vector.

Hy Vọng nods.

Over the joyful music, the two are lost in a quiet dance of their own. For a moment, Vector felt as if he knew everything about this stranger. He could see the loneliness in Hy Vọng’s eyes and the sadness that tinged the edges of his mouth. Awkwardly, Vector reaches into his pocket and produces a tamarind candy he had purchased from a nearby stand.

“When I was sad, my father used to give these to me. Would you like one?” he asks.

A small smile fills Hy Vọng’s face. He takes the candy from Vector’s hand, his fingers lingering on Vector’s for longer than was necessary.

“Thank you. These are one of my favorites.”

For such a young noble, he was less carefree than Vector had expected. When the dance began, every step of Hy Vọng’s was practiced. To Vector, it seemed as if dancing was a second instinct to the young noble. The dying rays of the sun kisses his skin and sparkles in his ruby-colored eyes.

“Who takes care of you now?” asks Vector.

Hy Vọng responds with a wry smile and a shrug.

“Everyone, here and there,” he answers vaguely.

“Really? I’m alone,” breathes Vector.

Briefly, their hands part. When they come back, Vector realizes that Hy Vọng’s hands are exceptionally warm, just like the sun.

“Is that why you came to the capitol?” asks Hy Vọng.

“Yup. To start anew.”

After the festival, he’ll go to the harbor and look for a ship. Hopefully, he won’t encounter his stepmother and brother before he leaves.

Hy Vọng briefly looks around at the spirited square. The dazzling colors of the city brings a small smile to his lips. Despite that, his eyes are sad.

“Be careful,” murmurs Hy Vọng. “The capitol is full of danger.”

“This is how I’m welcomed to this city for the first time?” teases Vector.

A hint of color fills Hy Vọng’s cheeks. He forces a grin and scratches the back of his head.

“Sorry! I promise that I’m usually not melancholic! If there’s time, I’ll show you the koi ponds and the best restaurants here!” promises his companion.

Vector sticks his tongue out.

“Nothing’s better than the food from my hometown!” he boasts.

Hy Vọng lifts his brow.

“I’ll take you up on that challenge! In one sitting, I ate 26 of the Lotus Restaurant’s meat buns!”

“26? That must mean that the owner’s skimping on the portions!” calls Vector above the din of the fireworks. “Miss Lê makes pork buns that can feed a grown man and his entire family!”

His companion beams as the fireworks explode overhead.

“Oh, really? Then she hasn’t met a man with an appetite like mine!”

The sound of a lively folk dance starts up. Hy Vọng perks up and he pulls Vector into the throng of dancers.

“I heard this song from a distant mountain village during one of my travels!” exclaims Hy Vọng. “It’s a dance that involves everyone in the village, young and old!”

Vector can feel everyone’s eyes upon him and Hy Vọng as they gather into a circle. Even among the brightly colored silks of the festival-goers, him and his companion’s outfits shine the most. Women stare at Vector and giggle. Well-dressed men look at the handsome couple with approval. Vector’s heart soars as the circle begins to spin, a rainbow of fabrics dazzling his eyes.

“It’s a dance to celebrate the rain!” explains Hy Vọng. “The circles grow and then divide, representing the ripples and changes of water!”

Vector holds onto his companion’s hand tightly as the circle grows. He searches the crowd for the faces of his stepmother and brother, yet can’t find them. Relief lowers his shoulders. The circle continues to spin and grow, Vector trying to hang onto his companion as desperately as possible. For once, he had found someone who was willing to listen to him. Someone who had experienced the same pain as he had.

As the music crescendos, their hands briefly release and Vector lets out a gasp at the absence of Hy Vọng’s hand. The world briefly stops as Hy Vọng grins at him. With his face lit up by the fireworks, he looks even more lively than before. Then his companion turns away, joining a smaller circle. Vector’s cry is lost in the throng, his hand grabbed by a pair of strangers and his body pulled into another circle.

As Hy Vọng’s head disappears into the colorful array of dancing bodies, Vector can only watch as his companion draws farther and farther away. Twirling, stepping and weaving through the steps of the folk dance, Vector tries to look for the young man’s red bangs and bright eyes to no avail. At the end of the dance, he finds himself in an entirely different part of the city.

Looking down at his feet, he curses under his breath as he finds that one of his shoes is missing. Stumbling back into the center of the festivities, he attempts to look for his shoe. With the amount of people that continued to pour in, finding a single golden shoe was an impossible task. Sighing, Vector wanders away from the crowd hoping to find a cobbler.

At night, the lanterns in the capitol dyed the city in shades of red. Shadows seemed to dance on their own in the alleyways. Festival goers filled the streets. Distantly, the sound of fireworks filled the air. Looking around, it seemed that the restaurants were even busier than in the morning. Hobbling about, Vector curses under his breath.

“Young prince!” calls a voice.

Vector stops.

“Young prince!” repeats the voice.

Vector turns around to see a young hostess standing in the doorway of a bustling restaurant.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

Looking down at his bare foot, Vector reluctantly nods. He walks into the restaurant. Immediately, the smell of congee and fragrant jasmine rice fills his senses.

“What can I get for you?” asks the hostess, eager to serve such a richly dressed customer.

“Tea…a bowl of rice…and a meatbun,” requests Vector, remembering Hy Vọng’s boast.

A hint of a frown fills the hostess’ face.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asks, brows slightly furrowed.

“Do you know any cobblers that are still open? I lost my shoe during the festivities,” says Vector, motioning to his bare foot.

The hostess looks down at Vector’s dirt-covered foot and bites her lip. Perhaps this wasn’t a prince. Perhaps this was a thief. Despite that, she pastes a smile on her face.

“Mr. Nguyễn should still be open, although he’s quite busy. He’s three streets away,” replies the hostess.

Vector smiles and places three gold coins into the hostess’ hand.

“Thank you.”

The hostess hurries off, her heart leaping at the amount of gold in her hand. Meanwhile, Vector looks around at the establishment. There were festival goers from distant lands, their clothes a clear marker of their foreignness. Some wore long capes that ill-suited the humid weather of the Amber Kingdom. Others wore elaborate headdresses. He even spotted a few members of the neighboring mountain tribes, their headscarves colorful and well-tailored.

A mixture of languages fills the room, from the almost-understandable languages of the mountain tribes to the foreign tongues of the westerners. Vector looked on in fascination as a young man with long white hair fumbled with chopsticks while his blond companion stifled a laugh. The man gave his friend a few words of advice in a language that sounded nasal and lilting to Vector’s ear.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” calls a voice from beside him.

Vector jumps upon seeing the young man beside him. Turning to him, the young sage smiles. Dressed in civilian clothing, with his hair tied in a ponytail, he appeared just like any common laborer. With his chin resting on his hand, the sage looks at Vector with half-closed eyes. A woven basket was strapped behind his back, his staff sticking out.

“You…!”

“Here you are,” says the hostess, serving Vector a meatbun, a bowl of rice and tea.

“Ah! Please get my friend a cup of tea and some vegetarian canh chua!” calls Vector.

“Excellent!”

The hostess grins and hurries off.

“How did you know what I wanted?” asks the sage.

“Frankly, I don’t even know what’s on the menu,” retorts Vector.

The sage looks around.

“Well, there’s dumplings…crab soup…buns…more dumplings…egg noodles…”

“Enough…,” mumbles Vector. “I stuffed myself silly at the festival.”

He’s answered by a chuckle from the sage. Vector frowns.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off meditating or something?”

The sage places a finger on his lips and makes a shushing sound.

“Sage-in-training, remember? I don’t have to give up all worldly pleasures all at once,” he drawls.

A moment of silence passes by as Vector sips his tea. In the humidity of the restaurant, it was almost too much to bear. He takes a bite from his bun. Honestly, it was quite average compared to his neighbor’s buns.

“I lost my shoe,” mutters Vector.

“You’ll find it again,” replies the sage, resting his head against his folded arms.

“How?!” sputters Vector. “It’s lost in this city of a million people! It’s probably already gone for good!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that…”

“Stop speaking in riddles!”

With a chuckle, the sage shrugs and holds up his hands.

“Sorry. Sage in training.”

“I could strangle you!” growls Vector.

“I’d like to see you try,” drawls the sage.

Vector downs his tea and glares at the young man.

“Why are you helping me? I don’t even know your name,” mutters Vector.

“First off, my name is Phạm Huyền Dương but my fellow sages call me Cá Mập.”

Dương is interrupted by a snort. Briefly, he frowns.

“From ‘dark ocean’ to ‘shark…,’” muses Vector. “Looks like you didn’t go far.”

Dương rolls his eyes.

“I was born by the ocean. Of course I’ll never stray from it,” he retorts. “And secondly, the karma you’ve accrued from your loyalty to your parents have resulted in Heaven’s admiration. I was assigned to you to carry out Heaven’s decree.”

Vector’s heart skips a beat. So his prayers had been heard. He grins, just as the hostess arrived with a bowl of canh chua, rice and tea. The smell of the soup’s spices earns a smile from Dương as he grabs his chopsticks.

“That looks absolutely delicious!” he says. “Thank you!”

The hostess blushes.

“Anything for our best patrons!”

Paying the hostess another gold coin, Vector watches as Dương eagerly partakes in the meal.

“Why don’t you come to the festivities with me? There’s lots of food there,” offers Vector.

Dương shakes his head.

“‘Can’t. Worldly pleasure,” he replies with a full mouth.

Vector watches as the young man quickly downs the soup and then the rice.

“Haven’t had anything this delicious in ages!” exclaims Dương. “On the mountains, all we have are peaches and the rice offerings our followers give us.”

“I’m planning to stay in the city so you could definitely stop by,” offers Vector.

Dương briefly pauses, something unreadable flashing by his eyes. For a moment, Vector could see the expression of the wise sage that Dương was training to become. The young man smiles, although his eyes remain unreadable.

“Yes, I’ll take you up on that offer,” says Dương as he finishes his bowl of rice. He looks at Vector’s bowl. “Are you finishing that?”

Vector shakes his head and pushes the bowl towards Dương. His companion grins and dumps its contents into the remainder of the soup.

“Oh, I need to come down here more often…,” he mumbles to himself as he digs into the soup.

Over the sounds of the sage happily eating, Vector rests his hand on his chin. Hy Vọng…such a strange young man. Despite his carefree exterior, he had experienced so much sadness. He had always thought that nobles lived luxurious and happy lives. He begins to tap out the rhythm of the folk dance on the table, closing his eyes and trying to relive the moment. Warmth…oh, he was so warm when he held Hy Vọng’s hand. His heart felt as if it could burst out of his chest from the warmth.

“Any chance I could bother you for some vegetarian buns?” asks Dương.

Vector wryly smiles at the young man.

“Remind me never to become an immortal. It looks like they don’t feed you well up in the mountains,” chuckles Vector as he looks around for the hostess.

“Did you hear? The king is looking for the owner of a shoe!” shouts a young and heavily powdered woman into the restaurant.

Vector jumps.

“What does the shoe look like?!” shouts Vector above the din of the restaurant.

“Golden and embroidered with rabbits!” cries the woman.

Vector’s heart nearly jumps out his chest. He stands straight up, preparing to leave.

“Well, there’s my cue to go,” says Dương.

When Vector turns around, the sage has vanished, leaving behind a stack of empty bowls. As the murmurs arise throughout the restaurant, Vector shoves the rest of the bun into his mouth and then slips his remaining shoe into his pocket. He hurries into the streets of the capitol, the cobbled stone paths smooth beneath his callused feet.

“Where is the king?!” exclaims Vector, looking around.

“There’s a line stretching into the palace courtyard!” replies a running woman.

Vector hurries after her, clutching his robes in his hands.

“How long?!”

The woman doesn’t look back, running along with the rest of the crowd.

“All the way to the gates!”

Vector’s heart falls. He runs into an alleyway and takes the horse carving out of his pocket and places it on the floor beneath him. Before his eyes, the horse grows. Once it was at its full size, Vector leaps onto the horse and rushes towards the city gates.

H☆H☆S

You know, I’m a very patient man, having served my stepmother and brother for most of my life. For two days, I waited in that line, surrounded by girls from all walks of life. The wealthy ones demanded to be carried by their retainers. The poor ones had to endure hunger and the burgeoning heat of the spring. There were those who were turned away by the guards at the palace gates because they had cut the line. I saw a few pretenders as well.

As long as I had the second shoe in my pocket, I knew that I would be chosen. But then what?

That question followed me the entire time, even once I arrived at the palace courtyard.

Sitting on his throne, shaded and fanned by a retinue of attendees was Hy Vọng, radiant as the day we had met. Upon seeing him on his dais, my heart almost stopped.

He motioned for the next person to try the golden shoe. A frail girl with a dirt-covered face approached the head eunuch, who held my golden shoe in his hand. Despite the hundreds of feet that had tried on the shoe, it remained pristine.

When my turn arrived, our eyes met and King Yuma smiled. It was a smile that still warms my heart today, when he has long moved on in his various reincarnations.

H☆H☆S

“A perfect fit,” declares the head eunuch.

Vector reaches into his pocket and pulls out the matching pair to a chorus of gasps.

“As you can see, I’m the true owner of these shoes,” he declares. “They were gifted to me by my parents.”

The eunuch’s shoulders lower in relief upon seeing Vector’s stately robes.

“And you are?”

“Vector.”

“Family name?”

Vector smiles, his heartbeat racing.

“Of the Sunflower Seed village in Moonshadow province,” he replies.

The eunuch’s face slackens and the palace court erupts into a series of gasps and hysterical screams.

“A peasant?!” chokes the eunuch.

He turns to the king with a face paler than the clouds.

With a single nod, King Yuma steps from his throne and approaches Vector.

“As a king and the father of my subjects, I must remember the heartbeat of our kingdom lies in the peasantry. What could be a better match?” declares the young king, clasping Vector’s hand in his.

Behind Vector, a few maidens faint. Meanwhile, his heart beats with a mixture of fear and joy. True, he had wanted to escape his family and start a life on his own terms. However, he had never expected to marry the king for his new beginning. Looking around at the astonished courtyard, he sees a purple-haired noble stifling his laughter.

H☆H☆S

This was where the story was supposed to end. I didn’t question the rapidity of the marriage, given the nature of fairytales. Miracles happen everyday in these worlds. All this meant was that I could have a happy ending. See, happy endings in fairytales almost always end with a wedding. Love is what makes the world go round, after all! Ha ha…

I would have forgiven my stepmother and brother at the wedding and lived happily ever after with the king. The karmic balances would have equaled out because of my suffering and my subsequent forgiveness of my tormentors. I wasn’t selfish or resentful, unlike my cousin.

I was pure.

And yet, time ticked on.

I had to survive the gossip and rivalries of court. The treacherous games of the eunuchs and nobles were similar to Shingetsu’s games, but deadlier. Despite the commoners’ love for me, they were kept away from the palace. Yuma was my sole comfort.

On the day of my father’s death anniversary, I was almost excited to return home and pay my respects.

H☆H☆S

“Your majesty!” greets Madame Sương, kowtowing.

“It’s alright, mother,” reassures Vector, stepping out of the palanquin. He turns to the eunuchs. “Thank you for your services.”

Upon seeing his childhood home again, tears fill Vector’s eyes. It was shabbier than he remembered, the thatched roof unchanged since he had left. The trees around the home had grown since the wedding, more shade covering their yard. Looking down at his stepmother and stepbrother, a small smile fills Vector’s lips. Their clothes were still elegant and crisply tailored, thanks to the allowance Vector sent home monthly.

“Rise,” says Vector, approaching his stepmother.

Unexpectedly, his stepmother embraces him, sobbing loudly.

“It’s been so lonely since you’ve left for the palace, my son,” she cries. “Shingetsu and I have dreamed of this day!”

Joining his mother, Shingetsu embraces Vector as well, tears dripping down his rosy cheeks.

“It feels like part of me was missing when you vanished!” adds Shingetsu.

Awkwardly, Vector returns the embrace. He only had until sunset before he had to turn back.

“Oh, I was so cruel to you!” cries his stepmother, running her hands through Vector’s hair. “Gods strike me down!” Vector pulls away from both his stepmother and twin, a serene smile on his face. Compared to the bloodthirsty courtiers, their antics were amusing.

“It’s alright,” breathes Vector through his tears. “I forgive you.”

An apology and love. That was all he had ever wanted from his stepmother. Madame Sương’s sobs increase as she kneels onto the floor and touches her forehead to Vector’s feet.

“To have a son who forgave his cruel stepmother for her past sins…Only so few could be lucky!” she cries.

“Come in, please! I cooked yours and father’s favorite meal!” invites Shingetsu, tugging Vector’s hand.

“Wait! I need to pay my respects first!” says Vector, pulling away from Shingetsu’s grip.

Taking his shoes off, Vector steps into the threshold of the house. His father and mother’s altar remains where it has always been. Lighting a stick of incense, Vector clasps it between his hands and bows.

“Although I’ve risen to lofty ranks, I will always remember my origins,” begins Vector. “Please continue watching over me as I navigate the dangers of the Amber Court.”

After bowing, Vector sticks his incense into the pot and moves into the dining room. A plate of bánh bèo awaits him and Vector’s stomach growls.

“Do you like it?” asks his stepmother from behind.

Vector turns around and gives her a smile.

“It’s wonderful, being able to have a home cooked meal after all these months of rich palace food,” he replies. “Mother, please have a seat.”

“But you’re the king’s consort…”

Vector shakes his head.

“And you’re my mother. Please sit and eat.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, his stepmother takes a seat and picks up her chopsticks. Vector then settles down beside Shingetsu.

“It smells delicious,” notes Vector. “You’ve really improved your cooking skills.”

Shingetsu brightens up at Vector’s praise.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

Together, the family begins to eat, the table quickly emptying.

“Apologies for coming empty handed. My carriage of presents should be coming soon,” notes Vector.

“Nonsense!” laughs his stepmother. “You’ve already done so much for us! I’m planning on sending Shingetsu to the capitol next year to become a scholar thanks to your support!”

Shingetsu blushes.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admits.

Vector smiles and pats his brother’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do.”

Once everyone had finished their meal, Madame Sương wiped her mouth and stood up. Clearing her throat, she turns to Vector.

“Forgive my impertinence, but would you be willing to do your mother a favor?” asks Madame Sương.

Looking up from his tea, Vector nods.

“What do you need?”

“Ah…as you know, your mother is no longer young and Shingetsu is no use at climbing trees. Would you be able to climb the areca tree out in the back and bring your father his favorite areca nuts?”

“Oh, please?” wheedles Shingetsu. “You were always climbing the trees like a monkey when we were younger!”

“Of course!” agrees Vector. “Let me do that now.”

Taking off his outer robe and placing it in Shingetsu’s arms, Vector rolls up his sleeves and walks into the backyard. Wistfully, he gazes at the empty well. Remembering his stepmother’s past cruelties, he shakes his head. No, no, she and Shingetsu had changed. Loneliness and time had taught them the error of their ways.

He approaches the areca tree and begins to climb, his stepmother and brother following close behind.

“Be careful up there!” calls Shingetsu as their stepmother disappears into the cellar.

“I will!” says Vector, slowly inching up the tree.

The thin trunk of the tree slightly sways with each movement Vector makes. He swallows hard as he gets higher and higher. When he was young, the tree was already tall, planted in the time of his great grandfather. Their father liked to sit beneath the tree while Vector climbed and tossed his beloved nuts down to him. The memory warms Vector’s heart.

Once the first bunch of nuts comes within reach, Vector takes a deep breath and reaches out his hand. Plucking a few nuts, he brings them to his pocket. Looking down, he sees that his stepmother has returned, an ax in her hand.

“Don’t mind me!” calls his stepmother. “There’s a whole family of fire ants down here! I couldn’t stand to have my dear child be stung by such beasts!”

She swings the ax at the tree while Vector holds on for dear life. He closes his eyes, praying that the thunk thunking would stop.

“Mother, please!” cries Vector amidst the hackings of the ax. “If you keep on cutting the tree, I’ll fall to my death!”

Deaf to his cries, Madame Sương continues to chop at the base of the tree. Vector winces and clings on for dear life, wrapping his limbs around the thin trunk. For a moment, the world completely stills. The birdsong stops. The hacking of the ax stills. The world holds its breath. Blood stops flowing in his veins.

And then the world spins again, in loud, righteous fury. He feels himself falling, the world rushing towards him. The areca tree cries with a voice centuries old, raining its nuts onto the ground. Briefly, Vector catches a glimpse of his father reading in the shade of the trees, his hammock swinging in the breeze. He looks up and smiles before the world seems to tear itself in two. Stars dance in Vector’s eyes and his head screams in pain. It feels as if he’s been struck by lightning. Warmth fills his face and as his vision leaves, he sees Shingetsu and Madame Sương looking down at him with matching expressions.

“Quick. Strip him before the blood gets on the robes.”

The world fades away as if it were a painting made of sand. Vector closes his eyes and feels himself being carried away by the winds.

H☆H☆S

It sucks, being dead.

Did you know what they did to my corpse?

After stripping me naked, they cut my body to pieces and fed me to the neighbor’s pigs.

What had filled these people with such evil and ungrateful malice?

They greeted the gift wagon with their usual theatrics, this time with Shingetsu parading as me. In their bloodied hands they clasped gold and fine robes, donning them as the pigs feasted on my corpse.

No one would notice this deception, for we were twins.

No one except Yuma and Heaven.

H☆H☆S

He awakens in a cold cavern standing in a long line of people. Vector scratches his head and winces at the sore. Looking around at the gaunt men and women, he frowns. The last thing he remembered was that he was in his childhood home. It was the beginning of the rainy season, but it never became this cold.

“Where am I?” he asks.

An old man turns around and looks at him. Pity fills his face.

“You’re in the underworld, child,” he murmurs.

The underworld? The word makes Vector chuckle. He was only twenty springs old, young and healthy. How could he be dead?

“That’s impossible,” he replies. “I have a kingdom to return to!”

The old man shakes his head and shuffles ahead. Looking around, Vector notices the gloomy pig-headed sentries walking throughout the caverns. With their beady eyes and twitching snouts, Vector shakes his head in disbelief. It was like the paintings at the temple.

“Excuse me…,” he calls to a guard.

The pig oinks in response and clutches its glaive tighter.

“I think there’s been a mistake.”

Another pig walks up to Vector. Its companion snorts in its ear. Together, they begin to laugh in a series of high-pitched squeals and snorts. Without replying to Vector, they walk away.

Sighing, Vector awaits his turn at the front of the line, reminded of when he waited to try on his slipper.

When he arrives at the front of the line, he stiffens upon seeing the imposing figure before him. Surrounded by animal-headed attendants was Diêm Vương, a man dressed in dark robes and a large crown. Vector bows, his limbs shaking. It couldn’t be.

“Rise,” booms the King of the Underworld.

Vector stands and gazes at Diêm Vương’s endless records.

“Prince Tấm of the Amber Kingdom,” reads the immortal, stroking his long beard. “Death from a fall.”

Memories of his stepmother cutting down the areca tree fills Vector’s mind. Pain shoots up Vector’s skull as he remembers falling to the ground.

“Th…there has to be a mistake,” chokes Vector. “I still have so much to live for.”

“Indeed,” says Diêm Vương, eliciting a series of gasps from his attendants. “Your life was not meant to end this way. I grant you expedited reincarnation in the form of an oriole to return to your love.”

“B…but my body…”

The immortal narrows his eyes, an eerie flame igniting in their black depths.

“Is no longer on this earth.”

“What?”

An imperious looking mynah-headed official lets out a squawk and unfurls a scroll.

“Before unassuming swine you were sacrificed, white flesh and bone ground beneath indifferent teeth. Come the morning, you will be resting in bits within the bellies of beasts,” reads the mynah.

A chill runs down Vector’s spine. He looks up at the king of the underworld and slowly bows, his head touching the cold stone floor.

“Forgive my impertinence, but, will my stepmother and brother atone for their sins?”

Diêm Vương sighs and strokes his beard.

“Cross the Bridge of Reincarnation, child. That is a secret I cannot divulge,” he says. “Make haste, for the universe must have its stories…”

Standing, Vector crosses his arms. What did Diêm Vương mean in that last bit? Judging from his irritated expression, he had no time to elaborate.

“Thank you,” Vector says as a pig-headed sentry ushers him away.

“NEXT!” squawks the mynah official.

The sentry leads him through a series of tunnels lit by dim crystals. Distantly, Vector could hear sobbing and screaming. When they arrive at a massive cavern, Vector stops to look around. Bridges that seemed to lead to nowhere crisscrossed the area. Wandering souls wandered back and forth through the bridges. Trees seemed to grow from the walls and the ceiling, obeying no natural order. Beneath him, a boiling river flowed backwards.

Behind him, the sentry nudges him with his glaive, snorting.

Vector shakes his head and moves across a stone bridge.

“Are my parents still here?” asks Vector, looking around.

He’s answered by silence.

They ascend a series of steps and enter a garden. An old lady sits by a weathered tree. Upon seeing Vector, she smiles.

“Have a seat, child. Come and drink my soup,” she invites.

The pig-headed sentry reaches into his pocket and shows the elderly woman a tag. For a moment, the elderly woman’s smile wavers. She takes the bowl of soup and pours it back into the spring.

“I see. Best of luck to you, child,” she calls as Vector is hurried along.

Leaving the cave, they enter a dark cavern that seemed to stretch into eternity. A red bridge yawned before Vector. The sentry oinks and motions to the bridge. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Vector takes a step forward. His footsteps fall silent on the well-worn stone. Looking behind him, he finds that the sentry remained where he was.

“This is it, then? The bridge of reincarnation?” asks Vector.

His response was a single nod.

Vector takes a deep breath and gives the beady-eyed sentry a smile.

“Thank you.”

As he walks across the bridge, he can feel the sentry’s eyes on his back. It’s cold, although there’s no breeze in the underworld. In the darkness he blindly walks ahead, praying that he would see his king again. Sometimes he thinks he hears his stepmother’s laughter. Other times he thinks he hears Shingetsu teasing him. Distantly, he hears Yuma’s laughter.

Vector quickens his pace.

“Vector, what’s the rush?” calls a voice from his memory.

Briefly, Vector pauses. He puts a hand on the stone railing and looks back.

Nothing.

He takes another step.

“Son, please. Turn back and come read with me,” continues his father.

Vector bites his lip. Perhaps his father was still here and not reincarnated. Perhaps he had overlooked his father, who was waiting on one of the hundreds of thousands of bridges in that massive cavern.

“We have so much to discuss.”

Yet Vector remembers Shingetsu’s cold expression as he leaned over him, watching as life drained from his skull. Lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes devoid of expression. Unblinking as Vector had let out a final choked cry.

“Strip him before the blood gets on the robes,” commands his stepmother.

Vector grits his teeth and continues on. No. His stepmother couldn’t take this final piece of happiness away from him. Not if he still had a say in this.

“Oh, Vector…,” sighs a wistful voice from behind. “What’s the use of revenge?”

Vector digs his nails into the stone.

Mother. His real mother, who had gifted him those wonderful bánh giò. He forces himself to take a step forward.

“Vector, please. Your father and I are both waiting for you,” says his mother.

Vector grits his teeth. So this was why people drank Mạnh Bà’s soup of oblivion.

“Mother, I’m sorry. I want to have happiness,” says Vector as he forces himself to go on.

“You can be happy here!” protests his mother. “Please!”

His mother would never scream at him like that. She would have wanted him to be happy. Memories of his gentle fish-mother fills Vector’s mind. Vector shakes his head and begins to run down the bridge, the voices of his mother and father distorting into hellish screams.

Soon, he begins to see a hint of light in the darkness. He quickens his pace, feeling his limbs grow lighter. Stretching out his arms, he feels his feet leave the ground and feathers sprout from his skin. He closes his eyes, casting aside the white robes of the underworld. When he opens his eyes, he is freely flying into the beautiful blue skies of the Amber Kingdom.

H☆H☆S

In his garden, the young king plays his moon lute, looking wistfully up at the heavens. As of late, his beloved was behaving strangely. His eyes were colder and his smile never reached his eyes. Despite that, he professed his undying love and admiration for his king in endless droves. It was almost as if his love had been absorbed by the court’s obsequious mannerisms. Yuma sighs as he plucks a wrong note, the melody falling apart at the discordant sound.

Yuma had thought his husband was different, hailing from a small village in the rural countryside. At the festival, he had seemed removed from the worldly luxuries around him, eyeing the common folk and nobles with the same set of eyes. He wore his robes as if they were simple peasant’s garb, easily weaving his way through the dancers as if he were walking across a meadow. Vector seemed unconcerned about his robes dragging on the dusty streets, instead more focused on the world around him.

Now all Vector does is wheedle Yuma for more gold and jewels, earning the ire of the finance ministers.

Yuma leans his head back against his chair and plays another song.

Oh beautiful moon so high above,

What secrets have you heard tonight?

Tell me of the peasant girl’s new love,

The soldier’s greatest fears

And the father’s secret worries

Why carry such secrets alone, paling your beautiful features?

An oriole begins to chirp in tune and Yuma continues to play.

I see that you and I are the same,

King and Moon

Our burden is ours alone to bear

When the oriole continues to sing along, note for note, Yuma stops. He looks around, searching for the bird. When he sees the yellow bird perched on a nearby branch, he smiles.

“How about this one?” he asks.

Tonight, tonight, I am going off to the festival

Across the hills and through the clouds I fly

Towards the fairyland of Mount Bồng Lai

Where I will feast from the flower fairies’ table

And dance with the fair immortal maidens of legend

Come, come, in your cups you will see

Slightly tipsy on the rice wine of heaven

The true meaning of life

The oriole sings along with heartrending passion, similar to when he and Vector used to sing together. Whenever he had time they would go out to the garden and sit in the pavilion, Yuma with his lute in hand and Vector with his voice. Yuma holds the oriole’s gaze and holds out his sleeve.

“Sometimes, I think that my husband has been taken away and replaced by a wizard. If he was truly my Vector, he wouldn’t speak to me with such cold smiles and blatant lies,” muses Yuma. “If you are my true husband and have been transformed, fly into my sleeve.”

Immediately, the oriole lands in his sleeve. Yuma lets out an incredulous squawk. Such things only happened in fairytales. He gazes down at the oriole and its unusual amethyst eyes. Nervously, he looks down at the bird.

“H-hey, I was just joking! Y-you couldn’t be my husband!” protests Yuma.

The oriole continues to stare at him with its eyes, the same color as Vector’s.

“But if you truly are him, then how would you be able to prove it?”

Bending its head into its wing, the oriole pulls out a silver hairpin decorated with an amethyst. Yuma stiffens.

“But…Vector said he lost that!”

The oriole drops the pin and lets out an indignant squawk. How could he have lost such a thing, especially when it was Yuma’s first present to him?

Yuma purses his lips. Perhaps it was all a strange coincidence.

“Well, would you happen to know our favorite song?”

The oriole closes its eyes and then begins to sing a folk lullaby. Yuma’s brows furrow as the oriole hops onto his hand. Lifting the bird to his face, he frowns.

“Then who’s—”

“Your majesty!” calls Shingetsu, running into the garden.

Head to toe he is dressed in gold, shining brighter than the sun itself. Yuma shields his eyes.

“Vector,” he mumbles as Shingetsu embraces him.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, Shingetsu says,

“Today, the chief minister of finances reprimanded me! Punish him for me, please?”

Looking down at his husband in bewilderment, Yuma slowly extricates himself from Shingetsu’s embrace.

“You have to understand,” he begins. “Our kingdom is just recovering from its war with the Turtle King! The people are exhausted!”

Shingetsu pouts and then looks down at his jade bracelets.

“I thought you said that I deserved the best. What’s a few more bracelets?” he mumbles.

“I…”

Just then, the oriole swoops towards Shingetsu’s face, eliciting a shriek of terror from the young man.

“Get it away!” yelps Shingetsu.

“Don’t touch him!” exclaims Yuma, pushing Shingetsu away.

A flash of anger fills Shingetsu’s expression.

“A bird over your own husband? Just what—”

The oriole dives for Shingetsu’s face again, only to be blocked by Yuma’s body.

“Please!” says Yuma. “Not now!”

For a moment, the oriole glares at Shingetsu. Then it flies back into the trees. Dusting himself off, Shingetsu looks at the bird in disgust.

“Have that bird killed!” he bellows. “It attacked a royal personage!”

“I’ll have none of that,” snaps Yuma, cheeks red with anger. “As long as you parade yourself around shining with gold, birds and dogs alike will rush to you.”

Shingetsu splutters in indignation. When he’s unable to find a proper response, he storms away in disgust. Left in the silence of the garden, Yuma sighs. The oriole lands on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

“I have to go back to work,” he murmurs. “But I’ll return whenever I have the time.”

The oriole lets out a mournful trill.

Vector had always hated parting with Yuma. The young king turns to the oriole and caresses its feathers.

“How did you become like this?” he asks the bird.

Mournful eyes look at him and Yuma’s heart wrenches. After a few moments, the oriole responds with a folk song.

From the same vine two gourds grew

Both slender and green

Yet when farmer Hùng cut them open

Only one was white

Yuma shakes his head, unable to understand.

“I’m sorry. I need to get going,” he says.

The oriole flutters into a branch, looking at him with mournful eyes.

H☆H☆S

Over the weeks, Yuma strayed further away from his husband and closer to the oriole. Shingetsu could only watch in jealousy as the king sang and played with the bird. His wheedling and begging now fell on deaf ears. The courtiers he spent time with slowly pulled away from him as his debts stacked and his pockets remained empty.

All because of that bloody bird.

On a particularly busy afternoon, Shingetsu slinks into the empty garden and looks around for the oriole. From his observations, the oriole always seemed to perch on the king’s favorite seat. Standing in the shaded pavilion, he lets out a series of low whistles.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…,” he calls. “He knows, doesn’t he? That I’m not his husband?”

Shingetsu looks down at his hands, bedecked with jewels.

“It doesn’t matter, though. He’d still have to marry me anyways once my twin died.”

A flash of yellow flutters by Shingetsu. The oriole lands on a nearby table, glaring at him. Shingetsu chuckles upon seeing the oriole’s purple eyes.

“Well, well…If it isn’t my dear husband’s pet,” drawls Shingetsu, reaching out his hand. “Come. I have sweets in my pocket for you.”

The oriole remains where it is, glaring at the treacherous twin. Shingetsu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of areca nuts, a smile slowly filling his lips.

“What do you think about these? I picked them myself,” says Shingetsu.

He remembers cutting up Vector’s body beneath the moonlight, his flesh at first refusing to split. Only after Shingetsu had soaked his brother’s body in lime did the flesh give way. In the end, it hadn’t even appeared like human flesh anymore. Just lumps of misshapen, grayish meat that could have belonged to any animal.

Upon seeing the nuts, the bird flaps its wings and dives towards Shingetsu’s face. With a laugh, Shingetsu snatches the bird from thin air and grins at its helpless squawks.

“Don’t try to ruin this for me,” murmurs Shingetsu, tightening his grip around the bird. “I’ve gotten this far and no damn bird is going to get in my way.”

Shingetsu grins as the bird’s squawks slowly decrease in volume. He continues squeezing the bird, digging his golden claws into its soft feathers. Warmth trickles down his hand as the bird’s blood flows from the punctures in its flesh. The bird frantically struggles in Shingetsu’s grip, its muscles and bones brushing against Shingetsu’s hand.

As a young child, Shingetsu had always been fascinated by the work of the town’s butcher. He delighted in seeing the muscles and bones exposed in the sun, writhing in the summer heat. The death-knells of the animals as it was bludgeoned to death stirred something in Shingetsu’s stomach. Nothing brought him more delight than watching as life drained from an animal’s eyes.

It was a pity that he was forbidden from pursuing the trade.

When the bird has completely stilled, Shingetsu places the bird in his pocket and wipes his hands with a handkerchief. He licks his lips and makes his way towards the kitchen.

“Your majesty!” calls the chef, bowing.

Shingetsu grins and tosses the bird’s carcass at the chef’s feet.

“Pluck its feathers and cook it for me,” he commands. “Season it with your best spices and serve it with my favorite herbs.”

The chef balks upon seeing the bloodied bird and Shingetsu’s wicked smile. After a few moments, he bows again.

“I-it will be done,” he stammers.

“Hurry. I’m ravenous,” says Shingetsu as he walks away.

H☆H☆S

Vector wakes up in the underworld with a pained gasp. Returned to his human body, he touches his hands to his face and runs his hands down his limbs. Unlike the first time, he is alone. Looking up, he sees a nervous horse-headed attendant whispering to Diêm Vương. The King of the Underworld strokes his beard as he looks down at his scrolls. On his other side, an ox-headed attendant sharpens his blade.

“I see…,” Diêm Vương muses.

The attendant pulls away, looking at Vector with wary eyes.

“Approach,” calls Diêm Vương.

Slowly, Vector walks forward. The god stares down at him with furrowed brows.

“Unusual indeed…,” he murmurs.

“Please let me return again,” begs Vector, falling to his knees.

He’s answered by a sharp glare, sending a bolt of ice through his chest.

“Don’t interrupt his Highness,” snaps the ox-head.

“Are you aware that it is rare, exceedingly rare to have three reincarnations in chronological proximity of one another?” booms Diêm Vương, eyes blazing.

Vector looks down at the stone floor, his hands shaking. He had to get back, no matter what. His Yuma was waiting for him. There was still so much time to be had together. All of the sunny afternoons they hadn’t spent. The delicious meals and festivals they would celebrate together. A kingdom, waiting for their beloved consort.

The ox-head snorts, the ring around his nose tinkling.

“Yet…,” begins Diêm Vương, running a long nail across his records. “Your happy fate has been intercepted twice now.”

With a start, Vector looks up.

“Happy fate…?” he echoes.

He’s known nothing but pain.

“Your story was meant to end once you arrived in court and married the king,” reads Diêm Vương. “Yet it continued until your untimely death.”

“Why?” utters Vector.

Diêm Vương turns his eyes to the horse-headed attendant, who whickers nervously.

“The circumstances are currently unclear, but we had a similar case a few moons ago as well. We didn’t bring them back and instead had them reincarnated into an entirely different fate,” recounts the horse.

“Clearly, that isn’t a permanent solution,” snorts the ox.

The King of the Underworld lets out a sigh, the entire walls of the cavern shaking in response. He looks down at Vector, his eyes burning with flames.

“Another reincarnation then,” he proposes. “As a tree.”

“A tree?!” exclaims Vector.

“The karmic points you obtained as a bird were insufficient for a higher plane,” says Diêm Vương. “Or would you rather have an entirely different fate?”

And wait for the underworld to deal with his brother and stepmother? Long after they’ve lived a life of luxury and cruelty?

Vector bows his head.

“Apologies. I will take the life of a tree.”

Diêm Vương nods and takes his seal. He stamps over Vector’s name for the third time, his brows furrowed.

“Take him to the lower bridge of reincarnation.”

Vector stands and walks past the attendants. In turn, the ox-head hurries after him.

H☆H☆S

“Where is my bird?” asks Yuma.

Shingetsu leans on a chair, stretching.

“I’ve already told you. I don’t know. It probably flew away because it got bored of you,” yawns Shingetsu.

His husband balls his hands into fists. Over the past few days, the dark circles under his eyes had increased. Without his precious oriole, he had grown easily irritable and colder than he usually was. Yuma begins to pace, much to Shingetsu’s annoyance.

“He couldn’t have disappeared like that!”

“‘He?’” asks Shingetsu, raising a brow. “How are you so sure?”

“I just do!” snaps Yuma.

“Your majesty!” calls a retinue of attendants.

Yuma whirls around, glaring at the head maid. She looks at him with red cheeks, her chest heaving.

“Speak,” commands Yuma.

“Your majesty…! It’s…it’s a miracle,” breathes the maid.

The young king raises his brow.

“What?”

“The tr…tree,” wheezes the maid. “In your garden.”

Shingetsu snorts and looks down at his rings. What could be so special about a tree?

“It just appeared this morning! W-with orange leaves and pale bark. L-like a tree in the North’s autumn!”

Everyone knew that the trees in the capitol stayed green all year round. As the sun shone throughout the entire year, there was no need for the trees to hibernate. Yuma’s agitated pacing stops.

“Show me,” he breathes.

“W-wait!” calls Shingetsu. “Let me see too!”

Hurrying after the attendants and his husband, Shingetsu stumbles into the garden and falls onto his knees upon seeing the massive tree. Its canopy covered half of the garden, looming over the other trees like a sentry. Slowly, Yuma approaches the tree and places a hand on the smooth bark. He rests his head against it. For the first time in weeks, he smiles.

“Rest assured I will take care of you,” he promises the tree with its orange leaves.

He turns to his staff, his smile bringing sighs of relief to the garden.

“From here on out, this tree will be named ‘Autumnal Joy,’” declares Yuma. “May it watch over me and my successors.”

For the next few months, subjects far and wide came to visit the miracle tree. Children played beneath its branches. Scholars sat beside it and composed poems. The young king took joy in sharing his tree with his people, often joining them in their festivities. On late nights he would climb its branches and play his moon lute. Sometimes, he would catch a whiff of Vector’s familiar, earthy scent.

Shingetsu watched in envy as the tree became more popular than he. One night, he walked out and attempted to climb the tree. The bark was slippery beneath his oiled limbs. While children had climbed it with ease, it took Shingetsu the entire night to climb it. Upon reaching a large bough, Shingetsu sits down and pulls down a nearby branch. Running his hand through a leaf, he looks down at its orange color. He grimaces at its color, far too similar to his brother’s hair.

With difficulty, he tries to yank off the leaf. After a few moments, it comes free and Shingetsu exclaims in triumph. Warmth drips down his wrist. When he looks at his skin, he pauses upon seeing the dark liquid dripping from the leaf. Looking up at the branch, he sees the same liquid dripping from the place where the leaf had been torn. Lifting his wrist to his nose, he sniffs it. A metallic scent fills his senses.

Blood.

Only animals were supposed to bleed.

Shingetsu’s heart leaps to his throat. His hands shake upon remembering Vector’s lifeless eyes staring up at him in betrayal. Tossing the leaf aside, Shingetsu quickly scurries out of the bough. The bark has now turned painfully rough, refusing to let Shingetsu climb down. Biting his lips, Shingetsu wraps his long sleeves around his hands and feet.

With each inch he crawls down, he feels his traction slipping. His limbs shake as the blood continues to drip from the tree.

“Well that’s uncharacteristic of you,” whispers the wind.

Letting out a shriek, Shingetsu leaps off of the tree and falls to the ground. His wails awaken the night watchman, who rushes over to him.

“IT BLEEDS!” screams Shingetsu, desperately crawling away from the tree.

His wails awaken the entire court, weary maids running into the halls to meet him.

“IT BLEEDS!” continues Shingetsu, crawling down the hall, his foot twisted.

He pounds on the gardener’s door, a crowd of concerned attendants following him.

“CUT IT!” screams Shingetsu, his bloody hand leaving marks on the walls. “CUT IT! IT BLEEDS!”

Because the king had gone to the mountains to make peace with the mountain tribes, the court had to heed Shingetsu’s orders. The following morning, five of the burliest gardeners approached the majestic tree with axes in hand. Shingetsu watches by the court physician's side, his ankle bandaged. As the gardeners cut into the tree, the wind whistled violently.

The tree groaned as it began to be marred by blows. Despite that, no blood flowed. There was only a clear and watery liquid, akin to tears.

“It’s an evil tree!” cries Shingetsu to disgusted glares. “Turn it into a loom for me! I will put it to good use!”

The carpenters grimaced at the command. They had enjoyed their meals beneath the tree, its cool shade incomparable to any other tree’s. Upon looking at their surly faces, Shingetsu’s expression twists into a hideous snarl.

“You dare disobey me?” he growls over the tree’s screams. “I’ll have your heads!”

A child began to sob, who was quickly hushed by his mother.

When the massive tree finally fell, it crushed various patches of flowers. The ground shook from its impact and the garden echoed with the tree’s final scream. After the dust settles, Shingetsu lets out a chuckle.

“There. Now the light has returned,” he says, clapping his hands.

He looks at the courtiers, attendants and advisors. Everyone stared at him with barely-disguised disgust. Another laugh bubbles up Shingetsu’s throat.

“Surely, you must understand. As the prince’s consort, I only want what’s best for you.”

Yet his victory was shortlived. The loom made from the tree’s pale branches was reluctant to obey Shingetsu’s orders, the thread often tangling in his fingers. One morning, as he was struggling to finish a shawl for Yuma’s return, the loom let out a low creak.

“Wicked reflection of mine, how dare you take what little I had? Must I always be miserable? This cruelty will not go unpunished,” hisses the wood.

Shingetsu rubs his eyes and then picks at his ears. Hearing nothing, he shrugs and continues weaving. His finger catches on a particularly rough part of the wood and begins to bleed. A droplet splashes onto the wood. Gritting his teeth, Shingetsu resolves to have all of the carpenters executed.

“Delicious, delicious…come give me more of your traitor’s blood, ” calls his brother’s distant voice.

Shingetsu gazes at his finger, the cut long and shallow. It begins to shake, like a leaf in the wind.

“All cruelties shall be repaid tenfold, one way or another,” whispers the wind. “ What say you to being a goby? ”

Surely, he was still dreaming. Shingetsu quickly crawls back to bed and buries himself beneath the sheets. The loom lets out a creak. Thump. Thump. For a moment, it sounded as if the loom was moving on its own. Squeezing his eyes shut, Shingetsu prays for it to go away.

“Come. The underworld awaits, ” continues his brother’s distant voice. “ And there you will stay for eternity, you wicked wretch. ”

“You’re dead,” chokes Shingetsu.

The thumping continues, now more like bare human feet. He could feel his brother’s cold gaze on him. A bead of sweat drips down Shingetsu’s nose. For a second, he cracks open his eyes. In the bright afternoon sun, he could make out his brother’s silhouette moving over him. He reaches out over Shingetsu.

“I’ll pluck your eyes out and shove them down your throat,” hisses Vector.

Just as the hand lands on Shingetsu’s sheets, he tosses them off, screaming.

“Your Majesty, what’s the matter?!” cries his guards.

With a pale face, Shingetsu turns towards the loom, right where he had left it.

“It’s evil,” he chokes. “Burn it! It was threatening to pluck my eyes out!”

The guards exchange confused glances. Shingetsu grits his teeth and glares at them.

“What are you waiting for?! Burn it!” he commands.

Rushing into action, the guards quickly carry the loom away. As they pass by him, he briefly sees his brother’s shadow walking beside the guards’.

“Scatter its ashes in the mountains, where it can never return,” blurts out Shingetsu. “I want the same done to the remains of that demon tree!”

As the days passed, Shingetsu plunged deeper into madness. Every shadow soon turned into his brother’s shade. The wind constantly whispered in his ear, wanting to pluck his eyes out. Not even in sleep could he achieve peace, Vector’s face constantly haunting him. He began to despise the darkness, demanding that a retinue of lantern holders remain by his bedside and wherever he went. He refused to bathe, claiming to see his brother’s shade in the water, ready to drown him. His nails and hair grew long for he feared sharp objects.

No matter what tincture the court physician prescribed, he continued to wake up screaming out his brother’s name.

To the rest of the court, it appeared as if the king’s consort was growing mad from his absence. With each day that passed, their yearning for their king’s return increased tenfold.

H☆H☆S

Rule of threes, y’know? Since they hadn’t figured out why I couldn’t have my happy ending yet, they tossed me in the loop for another reincarnation.

‘This was the last one though,’ they warned.

That’s also when I got the fairytale character speech they hate to give. Frankly, I didn’t know what to think of it at first.

Me? Just another character from one of my father’s storybooks? Diêm Vương and his attendants’ side comments finally made sense.

Because of the karmic imbalances, I ended up going beyond ‘happily ever after.’

I like to think that in my own way, I’m just as alive as you.

Anyways, from the ashes of the loom, a decandra tree grew. I was reborn inside one of the decandra fruits, spending my days swinging in the wind.

They’re really good and smell nice. I considered sticking them in the mouths or butts of my targets but realized that’s just a perfectly good waste of food.

One of the perks of working for the underworld is that you can get your hands on pretty much every food item that isn’t meat. I always make sure to have my fridge stocked with decandra fruits. If you need someone to be taken care of and come to my office, just ask for one.

It’s always good to share.

H☆H☆S

Up in the mountains, there was an old woman known as Bà Xuân, or Lady Spring. She had her hair tied in a pink cloth with embroidered flowers, the detailed embroidery the only hint of her previous life. Her face was worn from years spent in the sun and the rain. Despite the hardships of her life, she was always smiling.

Living in a small hut at the edge of the mountain village, she tended to the orphans of the village by sewing their clothes and cooking their meals. Many of the orphans were the unfortunate fruits of the war against the Turtle King, their fathers and mothers never returning from the battlefields. This sadness Lady Spring knew well, for her own son had been taken from her by the war.

One summer morning, Lady Spring was walking throughout the mountainside when she spied a beautiful decandra tree. It bore no fruit save for one, hanging at the top of its luxurious branches. Even from below she could smell its sweet scent. Amongst the green leaves, the singular fruit shone like a jewel, swaying languidly in the breeze. The elderly woman held up her hand and said,

“Little golden decandra, oh little golden decandra, fall to me. I will only enjoy thy sweet scent and deign to eat thee.”

A strong breeze blew and the decandra fruit neatly fell into her hand. Smiling to herself, Lady Spring tucked the decandra in her basket and made her way home. Upon entering her humble abode, she placed the decandra on the window by her kitchen. A beam of sunshine shone on the fruit, its golden skin shimmering like a chest of coins.

“How strong and healthy!” remarks Lady Spring as she gathers a few herbs from her shelves. “Please don’t wither while I’m gone. I must check on Little Thi’s cold.”

With that, Lady Spring shuffled away. After a few moments, the decandra shivered and peeled open. Its pulpy flesh formed into the shape of a human, slowly growing until it reached the size of a grown man. Pieces of the fruit paled, separating into fingers and toes. Parts of the flesh separated into hair and turned orange. Standing in the middle of the empty kitchen in golden robes, Vector looks around at Lady Spring’s humble living conditions.

The floors and walls were made of thickly packed dirt. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Lady Spring’s bed was a mattress propped on a worn bamboo frame in the corner of the room. A beaten mahogany chest rested beneath the bed. Opposite to the bed was a pile of clothes in the process of being mended. It was surrounded by a collection of jars that spread into the confines of the small kitchen.

Peeking out the window, Vector could see Lady Spring laughing as the village’s orphans flocked around her.

“Settle down, my dears!There are plenty of mountain berries for everyone!” gently chides the old woman.

She delivers a handful of the red berries into the children’s hands.

“Careful! Don’t eat too much or it’ll heat your body up!” she warns.

A young boy sticks his hand into her basket and she swats his hand away.

“Nho! Wait your turn!” she says as she gives a girl some berries.

Vector watches the peaceful scene with a small smile, reminded of his own village’s children. From their raggedy clothes and dirty faces, he could tell that these children were seldom cared for. He looks at the pile of clothes in the corner, each one featuring an array of patches. Walking over to the pile, he proceeds to finish Lady Spring’s work.

So there were still some good souls in this world. After his stepmother’s cruelties and the treachery of the court, it had become difficult to remember the kindness that he had been shown by the citizens of the Amber Kingdom.

Lady Spring’s gentle voice and ever present smile was what made Vector fall into her hands. He could tell from her worn face that life had never treated her well. They were kindred souls, tossed about by the winds of fate.

After mending the orphans’ clothes, Vector proceeds to cook lunch for Lady Spring. He looks at her meager supplies and sighs. There was only a bag of rice and a few vegetables. For someone so kind and generous, she had little to eat. The injustice of the situation twists Vector’s stomach into a knot. While his selfish brother was parading around in silks and gorging himself on the palace food, this woman had barely anything for herself and the orphans she tended to.

He balls his hands into fists, remembering the countless nights spent eating his brother and stepmother’s leftovers.

“Need a hand?” asks a familiar voice.

Vector looks up at the kitchen window and jumps.

“Dương!” he exclaims.

Dương places his finger on his lips and makes a shushing noise.

“Don’t call me by my mortal name!” he hisses.

“Where in the seven hells have you been?!” whisper-shouts Vector.

“Up in the mountains, meditating!” retorts the young sage.

Vector glares at him. After a few moments, Dương sighs.

“Alright, fine, I was also in Long Vương’s kingdom. His daughter was hosting a pearl picking festival,” he admits.

After his adventures in the afterlife, Vector isn’t surprised that the dragon king of the ocean was also real. He looks at the young sage and his easy smile, as if nothing had happened since the last time they met.

“Why weren’t you there for me?” utters Vector.

Dương raises a plucked brow.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Falling to his death. Being crushed to death. Then being burned to death. Vector grits his teeth. Unplanned death after unplanned death. If Dương was in charge of protecting his happiness, he was doing an awful job.

“Don’t play stupid. You’re a sage, you should have known!” snaps Vector.

Dương’s blank stare continues.

“As a sage-in-training, I don’t have access to heaven’s record books,” he replies. He looks around at the mud hut in bewilderment. “So what happened? Why are you here instead of at the palace?”

Vector holds Dương’s guileless stare with anger burning in his chest.

“I met the King of the Underworld thrice!” growls Vector, jabbing his finger in Dương’s face. “This is my third reincarnation!”

Immediately, the young sage’s eyebrows fly up to his forehead. His dark blue eyes widen and a cold breeze stirs his hair into a flurry. For a moment, he teeters from the windowsill. The clouds around them darken.

“Your what…?” Dương whispers.

“That’s right! My third chance! First a bird, then a tree and now a fruit!” yells Vector. “Where were you when I was killed all those times?!”

Around them, the trees quiver.

“I don’t have the right to interfere with fate,” begins Dương, his eyes narrowing. “Nor do you.”

“Being happy was supposed to be my destiny!” screams Vector.

He crushes a handful of herbs into his hands, their heady scent briefly calming him.

“I begged and I begged Diêm Vương to bring me back because I was wrongly murdered,” continues Vector, his throat burning with pain. “And yet…”

“No wonder,” murmurs Dương. “The Court of the Jade Emperor was in a panic when I came and visited.”

The sage takes a deep breath and exhales.

“The truth is, I’m on probation. I was told that one of the thousand souls I was supposed to help was unable to achieve happiness despite fulfilling his destiny. It must be you,” says Dương. “But how?”

Vector bites his lips. The tears spring into his eyes. This was just a story. He was supposed to be one of the triumphant heroes in his father’s storybooks. How did it come to a screaming match in a decrepit mountain village?

“I don’t know. They don’t know,” utters Vector. “But this is my final chance before they erase my memories and send me to another story.”

Dương wets his lips and sighs.

“Well, if you’ve been allowed to reincarnate in the same place this many times then I suppose I can tell you what’s been going on in the Jade Emperor’s court.”

He takes out his staff and waves it over the kitchen. Immediately, the smell of warm food fills the room. Vector starts upon seeing a feast laid out on the table. There were a variety of fruits and a large pot of rice with smoked fish.

“Before I forget what I came to do,” explains Dương.

Vector inspects the rice and fish. Every grain was pure white and fragrant. The fish was cooked to perfection. He raises a brow.

“I thought you couldn’t kill…”

“No, those are the discarded bodies of dragons,” says Dương quickly. “Anyways…”

Vector cuts a small piece of fish for Lady Spring and places it by her bowl of rice. Then he proceeds to peel an orange for her. Despite all of the food he was surrounded by, he lacked the appetite to partake in the feast.

“From the snippets I heard from the emperor’s advisors, it has something to do with karma,” begins Dương. “An imbalance tangentially related to us.”

“How did that even happen?”

Instead of answering, Dương ducks beneath the window.

“Lady Spring is coming back. It’s best if you hide,” whispers the breeze.

Standing up, Vector gathers his robes in his hands and hops back into the decandra. After a few moments, Lady Spring steps into her home. Upon seeing the feast, her eyes widen. She hurries towards the table laden with food, picking up her bowl of rice and scrutinizing it.

“Hello?” she calls, looking around.

Only the shadows answer her. The old woman frowns and tries a bit of the rice and fish. After tasting it, she smiles and places the bowl on the table. She quickly runs out of the house.

“My darlings! Come over to granny’s for a meal!” she says.

A chorus of excited young voices follow her. Watching from his decandra, Vector’s chest is filled with warmth. Soon, the entire house is filled with happily feasting orphans. Surrounded by her smiling charges, Lady Spring’s smile widens. She looks around every nook and cranny of her house for her mysterious benefactor. Upon seeing the mended pile of clothes, she puts a hand on her hips.

“Now isn’t that just odd!” she exclaims.

She chuckles and starts to pass out the mended clothes to the children, humming as she did so.

“Where did you get all of this food, granny?” asks a young girl.

Lady Spring ruffles her muddy hair.

“The gifts of heaven never cease to amaze,” she murmurs.

She doesn’t eat until the rest of the children have eaten and left. Sitting down to a bowl of rice, a few slices of fish and an orange, the old woman clasps her hands together and prays.

“Thank you, for everything. This old woman is not deserving of such a gift,” utters Lady Spring.

But you do, thinks Vector as Lady Spring begins to partake in her lonely meal. If anyone, it’s you.

H☆H☆S

The days passed by in this manner. Lady Spring tended to the children while Vector tended to her household. The young sage had mysteriously disappeared. Each time she came home, Lady Spring was greeted by a warm meal. After the feast from a few moons ago, Vector prepared food with what the old woman had. As she was gone for most of the day, Vector could wander deep into the mountains and forage.

No matter how hard he worked, he never tired or hungered.

One day, Lady Spring rose early and prepared to leave. Looking at the decandra, the old woman smiled. It was a long-lived fruit, as fresh and fragrant as the day she had found it.

“I’ll be going now,” she declares.

After a few moments, Vector emerges from the fruit and proceeds to mend the orphans’ clothes. Then he stokes the fire for the vegetable soup.

“You…!” gasps Lady Spring, standing in the doorway.

Vector jumps and holds the old woman’s astonished gaze.

“Who are you? What is your name?” asks Lady Spring as she approaches Vector.

“I…”

Lady Spring clasps her warm hands in Vector’s. Immediately, his shoulders lower as he meets the woman’s sparkling eyes. Up close, she seemed even kinder than before.

“My dear! Have you been the one mending my clothes, tidying my home and cooking for me?” asks Lady Spring.

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks.

“Yes,” he confesses. “It looked like you needed the help.”

Lady Spring lets out an exclamation of joy and pulls him into an embrace. Vector squeaks. After a few moments, he returns the embrace.

“Thank you, thank you. Oh…! To have someone like you look after someone like me…”

She pulls away from Vector and squeezes his hands. Her eyes glisten with tears.

“Oh, please stay and be my son,” she breathes. “I will give you everything I have and a mother’s love.”

Vector looks into Lady Spring’s chartreuse eyes. For someone so small, she had such a large and giving heart. He had seen the way the children ran after her. Her laughter always seemed to be infectious. When the villagers would ignore the orphans, Lady Spring would always be there to hold them. It had been so long since someone he loved had held him.

Vector’s lips tremble and he pulls Lady Spring into an embrace, wetting her shoulder with his tears. How could she hold him with such love when they had barely met?

“There, there,” soothes Lady Spring. “Oh, please…this is meant to be a joyous occasion!”

Despite that, the old woman’s voice warbled.

“F-for once, allow me to cook you a meal. I want to learn all about you,” murmurs Lady Spring.

She dabs at Vector’s tears with her handkerchief. Looking at the window, she notes that the decandra fruit’s skin had peeled into a flower, revealing an empty center. Returning to Vector’s face, she places a hand on his cheek.

“I knew something was special about that fruit,” she says. “But I didn’t know how special.”

Another wave of tears wells up in Vector’s eyes and he wipes them away. He blushes at the idea of anyone seeing him cry, seldom comforted whenever he does so.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begs. “Please.”

“Of course not,” chuckles Lady Spring. “Where would I go?”

She leads him to the small table and sits him down. From her basket, she takes out an onion and begins to chop it. Under her breath she hums a folk song, similar to the one he and Yuma had danced to, all those seasons ago. Vector closes his eyes, trying to recall the emotions he felt that night. He had been so eager to start anew. In that capitol, he could have sailed away from all of his troubles. And yet…

Yet there would be new problems. Even as the king’s consort there had been the gossip and the drama of the court to contend with. Perhaps sailing to a foreign land would give him only more foes to contend with.

Opening his eyes, Vector sighs.

“Oh, please let me help,” he says as he stands up.

“You’ve been working so hard for me though!” protests Lady Spring.

“I insist,” says Vector as he takes the knife from Lady Spring’s hand.

Taken aback as Vector expertly chops up the onion, Lady Spring puts her hands on her hips.

“I’ve never seen a young man so deft with a kitchen knife!” she exclaims.

A small smile fills Vector’s lips.

“I’ve been doing this since I was young, many, many years ago.”

Lady Spring gives him a smile and then moves to cook the rice.

“Why did you choose me?” she asks.

Vector pushes the onions aside and begins chopping up green onion stalks.

“I sensed that you had a good heart,” he replies.

After a few moments, Lady Spring chuckles.

“I see.”

Once the stew and rice were cooked, the two settled down to eat. Despite his lack of appetite, Vector scooped himself a bowl of rice alongside some stew.

“Oh, how shocked I was when I came home to that feast!” exclaims Lady Spring. “How did you find all that food?”

Vector grins.

“I had a friend help me.”

“A friend, huh?” mused Lady Spring. “I must truly be blessed…”

Taking his first bite of food, Vector stiffens. It was warm and comforting despite its simplicity. The spices of the anise enriched the taste of the stew and melded with the fragrant flavor of the rice. He quickened his pace, hungrily devouring his meal. It felt like Lady Spring had poured her love into each piece.

“Goodness! When was the last time you’ve eaten, child? What did you eat while you were in that fruit?” asks Lady Spring.

Vector wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

“I haven’t been eating,” he confesses.

Dismay fills Lady Spring’s expression. She hurriedly scoops Vector another bowl of rice and stew.

“You can’t possibly expect to take care of another person when you haven’t taken care of yourself!” she scolds.

Her cheeks flush with pink, similar to when an orphan boy had stuck her hairpin up his nose. Despite Lady Spring’s furrowed brows, Vector laughs.

“I suppose I got bored of my own cooking,” he confesses.

Lady Spring lightly pinches his cheek.

“Silly boy! From here on out, we’re cooking together!” she resolves.

“I’d love to,” says Vector with his pinched cheek.

Lady Spring’s expression softens and she lets go. Vector’s earnest smile filled her mind with memories of her son. How foolish she had been, allowing her son to fight for his father!

H☆H☆S

My time with Haru, or, Lady Spring as you know her, was one of the happiest times in my life. Finally, I had a mother. A genuine mother who loved me. Despite the hardships of mountain life, I never spent an unhappy day in that village. The villagers quickly got to know me as Lady Spring’s adopted son. They were simple and honest people, working from dawn to dusk in the mountain fields.

Being with her healed me in a way the court never could. I learned to love the simple things in life again. The sweetness of mountain fruits. The laughter of young children. The songs of the mountain folk.

I rose with the dawn and slept beneath the moonlight. Although I despised taking care of my ungrateful stepmother and brother, it was different with Lady Spring. She made me feel wanted, like I wasn’t a burden to her. When she noticed that I had aches, she would help me rub them out before bed. When I drifted off to the past, she would bring me back with a gentle shake.

Looking at her eyes, I couldn’t help but think of Yuma. There was the same sadness in those eyes. Because of that, we understood the importance of burying our past and living in the present. She never asked about who I was before I arrived at her home. I never asked who she was either. Judging from the faded silk of her head cloth, I’m sure it was somewhere far.

And so, we lived peacefully in that mountain village. Every day was the same, but I didn’t find a problem with that. It was lovely, not spending every moment of my life looking over my shoulder. Surely, this was my happy ending. Although my thoughts constantly went back to my Yuma, I doubted that we would ever meet again. I couldn’t bring myself to leave my mother, not after all she had done for me.

Then why didn’t time stop and leave me there, like a butterfly beneath glass?

H☆H☆S

“Brother Vector! Brother Vector! Tell us the story of the boy who never grows up again!” calls a young child.

“Again?!” exclaims Vector, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“Yes! Yes!” cheer the chorus of orphan children.

“Alright…alright…,” sighs Vector. He takes a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there were two—I mean three—brothers named Wendell, John and Michael.”

A little boy blows a raspberry and Vector gently cuffs him on the head.

“No spoilers or else I won’t tell you any more stories!” he warns the child.

The children began to settle down, seating themselves in a circle around Vector. In the kitchen, Lady Spring was preparing lunch. She watches the peaceful scene, warmth filling her heart. Over the past few moons, Vector had truly proven himself to be invaluable. He reminded her so much of the son that she had lost that often tears would fill her eyes. Her own son had always been running about in the gardens, avoiding his lessons like the plague. It felt like overnight he had grown into a young man. Then, it felt like in the blink of an eye that she had lost him.

She hums to herself as she mends the orphans’ clothes. Thanks to Vector, the children were spending less time roughhousing and more time learning. Every other day, Vector would gather the children for a lesson, told in the form of a story or a rhyme. Sometimes she would listen in, Vector’s spirited voice lightening the heaviness in her heart. From the variety of Vector’s stories, it seemed that her son had come from well-learned parents.

From outside, the children cheer. Lady Spring chuckles. Vector must have been telling them that story with the pirates again.

“Lady Spring?” calls a gentle voice.

The old woman turns around to see a young eunuch in amber robes. She stiffens as the young man bows and drops her needle.

“At last, our king has found you,” gasps the eunuch upon seeing Lady Spring’s headcloth.

A young man walks in through the door. He is dressed in simple traveling robes, yet the way he carried himself spoke of good breeding. He holds his head high, his eyes constantly observing the land around him. Upon seeing Lady Spring, his crimson eyes fill with joy.

“Grandmother!” calls Yuma, running towards her.

Lady Spring holds still as her grandson embraces her. He was the mirror image of his father, with the same bright smile and unkempt hair. The last time she had seen him, he was merely an infant.

“How…?!” utters Lady Spring.

Yuma’s eyes fill with tears.

“I looked all over for you! Didn’t you hear? The war is over!” he declares.

Lady Spring’s legs shake. Yuma supports her in his strong arms. Up close, she could see that a beard was beginning to form at the ends of his chin. Yes, she had remembered the eunuch’s announcement. Yet she could not bring herself to partake in the festivities. There were far too many ghosts in the capitol, reminding her of the past.

“Gods…how grown you are,” utters Lady Spring.

Yuma grins and swipes his nose.

“I’m twenty years old now!”

“You look just like your father,” murmurs Lady Spring, her eyes filling with tears.

At the mention of his father, Yuma’s expression clouds. He touches his forehead to his grandmother’s.

“May he and my mother rest in peace,” murmurs Yuma.

Lady Spring dabs at her eyes and pulls away. Decades of living in the court forces her to straighten her back. Her back aches in response, the long-repressed memories making their way through. She clears her throat and blinks away the remainder of her tears. Grandson or not, he was still the king.

“Of course…! Where are my manners? Please, sit outside! I’ll have some food prepared for us!” says Lady Spring as she ushers Yuma outside.

Running to the backyard, she motions to Vector.

“We have a guest!” she declares. “Could you help me prepare some tea and heat up the bánh giò?”

Detangling himself from the orphan children, Vector nods.

“Who wants to help me?” he calls.

Various children run into the kitchen in response. Vector turns to Lady Spring and smiles.

“We’ll have it done before your seats are warm,” he promises.

Walking to the front of her house, Lady Spring clasps her grandson’s hands in hers.

“I should have been stronger,” she says. “Your grandfather was such a cruel man, sending his son off to war.”

Yuma shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. The kingdom is at peace now.” he reassures his grandmother.

Lady Spring sighs.

“But the orphans of this war are not. I will care for them until my final breath.”

The young king furrows his brows.

“I see. So you won’t be returning to court?”

His grandmother scoffs and crosses her arms.

“No. Never again. I plan to die in this mountain village. The air is good and the people are honest.”

She’s answered by a chuckle reminiscent of her own deceased son’s. A pang fills Lady Spring’s chest.

“You have a point there,” agrees Yuma.

They spend a moment in silence, admiring the trees and warm weather. Distantly, a bird calls. A cool breeze stirs up some dust. Tonight, there will be a full moon. Lady Spring leans back against the wall of her home, watching as the clouds swam by.

“Hello, here is your tea!” says a young child, placing a teapot on the table.

Followed by two other children with cups in their hands, the orphans look at Yuma with wide eyes. The young king thanks the children and ruffles their hair. He fishes in his pockets and gives them pieces of candy. After thanking him, they scurry off into the darkness of Lady Spring’s home.

“Orphans?” asks Yuma.

Lady Spring inclines her head.

“Poor things. Some never even knew their mother’s faces.”

Yuma sighs. It seemed like every part of the country had been affected by the war. Children had grown up knowing nothing but loss and hardship for almost three generations.

“My rule will be a peaceful one,” he promises.

Lady Spring looks at him with her sharp eyes.

“Do you swear to the gods?”

“I swear.”

He takes a sip of his cool tea, closing his eyes and savoring its earthy aroma. There was nothing better than the food of the common folk.

“How did you find me?” asks Lady Spring.

Yuma places his hands behind his head and leans back.

“A young farmer. He had purple hair and blue eyes,” he replies.

Lady Spring raises a brow.

“We don’t have anyone that looks like that in our village,” she muses.

Her grandson shrugs in response. Taking another sip of his tea, he sighs in contentment. He had spent moons wandering the mountains. Across the various villages and tribes he had visited, he noticed that almost all of them had orphans. The nights were long and sometimes rainy. Sometimes he was reluctantly welcomed, the villagers suspicious of a stranger. To them, he was just another mouth to feed.

Although the cities of his kingdom prospered from the war, the villages continued to suffer.

“Bánh giò! Bánh giò! Bánh giò!” calls a group of orphans, scurrying out with a plate heaped with food.

Yuma’s brows jump upon seeing the way the banana leaves were folded. They were perked up at the ends like rabbit ears. A pang fills his chest. Only one person folded banana leaves like that.

“Who folded these bánh giò?” he asks, picking one up with gentle hands.

Warmth fills his grandmother’s expression.

“Why, my adopted son did! He has the most unusual way of doing things you see…”

Lady Spring trails off as Yuma jumps up from his seat.

“Please, let me see him!” he says breathlessly.

Taken aback, Lady Spring briefly stiffens. She gazes at the rabbit-shaped bánh giò, wondering what could have excited her grandson so.

“O-of course,” she says, standing. “Vector! Could you come out for a moment? My guest wants to see you!”

Yuma remains standing, the excitement rippling off of him in waves. When Vector emerges from the darkness, Yuma lets out a choked gasp. Vector’s eyes widen in shock. The two lovers hold each other’s gaze, moons upon moons of separation doing little to diminish their love for one another.

“Is it truly you?” whispers Yuma.

“It is,” utters Vector.

Without another word, the two fall into a tearful embrace. Vector breathes in Yuma’s familiar scent, memories of the warmth they shared filling his mind.

“How? How? First the bird, then the tree…!” recounts Yuma.

“Then a decandra,” finishes Vector.

“Grandmother! This is my consort!” says Yuma, color filling his cheeks. “How did you find him?”

“Why, from a decandra tree!” responds the old woman.

As he wipes away Yuma’s tears, Vector leans his head against Yuma’s forehead.

“I went through the underworld thrice to see you again,” he whispers. “I had to beg and beg the king of the underworld to reincarnate beside you.”

“Gods…!” exclaims Yuma. “Gods…!”

He turns to his grandmother.

“Please, let me take my love home!” he begs her.

Lady Spring motions to Vector, despite the sadness in her eyes.

“From the beginning he had chosen me. The decision to stay or not is in his hands,” she replies.

Pulling away from Yuma’s arms, Vector embraces Lady Spring, lifting her from the ground. The old woman lets out a yelp of surprise.

“Thank you. Thank you for being a mother to me when I didn’t have one. I’ll never forget your kindness and will return. I promise on my ancestors’ graves,” vows Vector.

Lady Spring holds her son tight and kisses his cheeks.

“Go on, then. Return to your destiny,” she utters, her voice wavering at the end.

Vector gives his mother one last squeeze and then lowers her to the ground. Looking back at the mud hut, he beckons to the orphans.

“Come out, everyone! I have some important news to share!”

To the laughter of both the children and Lady Spring, Yuma and Vector kiss.

H☆H☆S

Upon leaving that village, I thought my heart would burst. I couldn’t tell if I was more sad or joyous. The orphans cried me a river, my mother joining them at the end. In turn I shed a few tears and then Yuma joined in.

It would be one of the last times I would cry.

Returning home was a joyous procession. Everyone was astonished to see that the king’s consort was once again in simple peasant garb. I clasped every hand that reached out to mine, relishing the ability to connect with others. As a bird and a tree, I couldn’t have done those things as well. There is nothing like clasping the hand of another human being, their pulse beating beneath your hand and their muscles moving beneath yours. In that moment we are united beneath the banner of the living.

Although I was overjoyed in the daytime, the night, with its enforced solitude, reminded me of my true purpose.

Revenge, simple and easy.

Oh, I had so many things planned.

After my return, Shingetsu was tossed into the dungeons. The guards were happy to do so, due to Shingetsu’s increasingly paranoid demands. I heard he fought like a hellcat.

What about evidence, you ask? Ha. There was no need to prove to the court that I was the real Vector. The king’s word was considered gold.

During my return banquet I revealed every single cruelty I had endured beneath Shingetsu’s hands to a horrified court.

I left our stepmother out of the story because I was planning something special for her.

Then came the reincarnations. My miraculous story, of continuous reincarnation and the favor of heaven made the courtiers fear me. I was like a hero from one of our country’s myths. Constantly, I regaled the court on my exploits in the underworld. The more I told of the fearsome animal-headed attendants and of Diêm Vương’s wrath, the more fear I instilled in the courtiers. I rarely ate, drank or slept, adding more evidence to the fact that I had transcended mortal boundaries.

Fear is good. Fear is power.

I nursed my plans for revenge for weeks, making sure that they were as fully developed as possible. When I was finally satisfied, I ordered for his release from the dungeons. How humble he was, in his maddened and starved state! A thrill filled my stomach upon seeing him.

He looked at me as if I were a ghost. His hair was unkempt and his teeth were filthy. The pristine skin around his nails were all peeled, the red flesh beneath them raw and painful. What once was shiny gold rings were now caked with his own blood, digging into his skin. He crawled to us and begged for forgiveness, his keening almost inhuman.

For a moment, I almost wanted to forgive him.

H☆H☆S

“Please…!” wails Shingetsu, digging what little nails he has left into Vector’s leg. “Please forgive me!”

Surrounded by the eyes of the astonished court, Vector slowly bends down and places his hand on his brother’s. The sun shone behind him, crowning him with a halo. He smiles, amethyst eyes sparkling with youth. Unlike Shingetsu, time had been kind to him. His skin was clear and his smile was filled with grace. There were no gray streaks in his hair while Shingetsu was beginning to have a few strands graying at his temples.

The silence of the court mounts, confusion, fear and hatred for the crawling figure before them swirling in the oppressive air.

“Of course,” says Vector, ignoring the gasps around him. “It was what our parents would have wanted.”

Shingetsu’s mouth hangs open, revealing a chipped tooth.

“R-really?” he utters.

“Really.”

Shingetsu’s chapped lips quaver. His head touches the ground with a loud thunk as he erupts into sobs.

“Oh please…! Tell me how to become as beautiful as you…!” he begs. “Please…!”

Shingetsu’s tears fall upon Vector’s shoes. Vector crouches and strokes his brother’s head. Leaning close to Shingetsu’s ears, Vector whispers,

“Dig a deep hole into the earth, enough for you to stand in. Fill it with boiling water from a freshwater stream and bathe in it beneath the summer sun.”

“W-will you help me?” whimpers Shingetsu.

Vector gives his brother another saintly smile.

“Of course.”

He pulls his brother into an embrace, his serene expression unchanging as Shingetsu wailed into his ear.

“Please! Please cleanse me now!” begs Shingetsu.

A small thrill fills the pit of Vector’s stomach. He turns to the astonished guards.

“Please go to the western courtyard and begin digging a pit the size of a man,” calls Vector.

Quickly, the guards shuffle away to the back of the palace. Murmurs begin to fill the courtyard. Vector scans the courtiers’ furrowed brows and feels a wave of excitement wash over his stomach.

Rising, he returns to Yuma and clasps his hands in his.

“My poor brother was merely doing his duty after I fell to my death,” begins Vector, meeting the eyes of the awed courtiers. “He did not wish for the Amber Kingdom to mourn my death.”

With his other hand, he reaches out to Shingetsu. His brother takes it with the desperation of a drowning man.

“Please, rest well. The underworld itself sympathized with the people of our kingdom and hastened for my reincarnation,” reassures Vector. “I only regret that I had taken so long to return in my proper form.”

No longer was he afraid of the courtiers and their petty gossip. The poisonings, the plots, the vying for attention…all seemed pointless after his various journeys through the underworld. He glides through them with his head held high, refusing to grace his former tormentors with a second glance. If they were to kill him, he would merely reincarnate.

Walking behind the palace, Vector walks towards the small pit that the guards were beginning to dig. He turns to his brother.

“You must help them as well,” he says.

“W-with what?” stammers Shingetsu.

“Why, with your fingers! The earth needs your blood,” explains Vector.

Crawling over to the pit, Shingetsu stares down at the hole. After a moment of hesitation, he begins to dig with his fingers. Vector turns to Yuma, staring at Shingetsu in disgust.

“Please, I wouldn’t want to hold you back from your duties. I’ll see you tonight,” says Vector.

Yuma gives Vector a brief nod and then scowls at Shingetsu. Placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, Vector leans towards Yuma’s ear.

“After tonight, he won’t bother us again,” he promises.

“Very well,” murmurs Yuma. “Your benevolence never fails to impress me.”

The young king walks off while Vector takes a seat by the palace wall. Shingetsu digs until his fingers begin to bleed. Despite the tears brimming in his eyes, he continues until Vector stops him.

“It’s deep enough now,” says Vector, rising from his seat. He turns to the guards. “Go get the boiling water.”

He looks down at Shingetsu’s bloodied fingers, more blood than flesh after hours of digging. His twin brother turns to him with fearful eyes.

“N-now what?” he asks.

“Now we cleanse your spirit. Jump into that pit,” instructs Vector.

Shingetsu looks at his brother and then repeatedly bows, his forehead hitting the ground in rhythmic thunks .

“I’m sorry! For strangling you…for cutting you down…for burning you…! I’m sorry!”

Vector smiles and lifts Shingetsu’s head from the ground with his foot.

“Everything will be forgiven after you cleanse yourself with boiling water. The heavens will it so.”

Nodding, Shingetsu crawls towards the edge of the pit and lowers himself in. He looks up at Vector expectantly. A line of guards have lined up by the palace wall, each person bearing an urn of steaming water. Vector inclines his head and the first man approaches.

His brother screams as the boiling water hits his feet. Sitting by the edge of the pit, Vector looks down at his brother’s bulging eyes and desperately grasping hands. The water continues to be poured into the pit, Shingetsu’s screams ignored by all.

“This was what you wanted, no?!” calls Vector over Shingetsu’s screams. “You don’t have the right to whine about it if you asked for it!”

Over a deluge of steam, a reddened hand grasps the edge of the pit. The tips of the fingers have the bone exposed from the hours spent digging the hard earth. Vector chuckles and kicks the fingers back into the pit. A drowned scream answers Vector.

Once the entire pit is filled, Vector motions for the guards to stop.

“Now, fetch me an urn that can fit a body, a sack of sugar, salt and the sharpest knife in the kitchen,” instructs Vector.

He laughs to himself over Shingetsu’s fading cries. There wasn’t even any need for him to convince his idiot brother, so deteriorated was his brother’s mind. The steam smells of mud and human fluids. Vector wrinkles his nose. It was a rightful end to such a disgusting human, even more rightful when he had ended his life with his own vanity.

As the steam clears, Vector finds Shingetsu’s body floating in the water. He gives it a small kick.

“Well, you’re clean now, aren’t you?” drawls Vector.

His brother’s body is bright red, boiled through and through. All the dirt from the dungeon and the pit swirls around him. For a moment, he’s reminded of a pig wallowing in the mud. Vector looks at Shingetsu’s shriveled eyes, sunken into their sockets. They’re wide open, staring into the sun.

Turning to the remaining guards, Vector says, “Fish him out.”

Two burly men drag Shingetsu’s body from the pit and lay him on the ground. The knife and urn are presented to Vector along with the bags of salt and sugar. Taking the knife, Vector cuts away Shingetsu’s clothes. Beneath the white prisoner’s robes is even redder skin, marred by ugly scratches.

“It’s only fair, isn’t it?” drawls Vector as he begins sawing off Shingetsu’s fingers.

H☆H☆S

“Your majesty!” exclaims Madame Sương, bowing to the royal palanquin.

Vector steps out and looks down at his stepmother.

“Rise,” he calls.

Upon seeing Vector, Madame Sương’s smile briefly wavers. She looks at the guards with their solemn expressions.

“H-how?” she utters.

She had heard the rumors of her son reincarnating. She had laughed it off, thinking that it was nothing but an old wives’ tale. Yet, the person before her was not Shingetsu. Her favorite would never look at her with such contempt in his amethyst eyes, nor would he treat her with such indifference.

“Heaven wills it and thanks you for your service,” replies Vector, motioning to the guards. “It was very brave of you to send your remaining son to the palace.”

A large ornamental urn decorated with rabbits is presented to Madame Sương.

“For your efforts, I have prepared this fine selection of sweetmeats for you,” says Vector.

The guards lay the urn down with a thunk. Madame Sương’s fearful expression melts into a relieved smile.

“O-of course. And y-your brother?”

Vector places a hand on his mother’s bare arm. She shivers at his frigid hands.

“He has fulfilled his dreams of traveling afar,” he responds.

Without another word, he turns around and returns to his palanquin. The procession solemnly leaves the village, the clanging of the palanquin’s bells clearing the way. Left with the urn, Madame Sương opens it to a heavenly aroma. The meat is a pleasing color of red. She dips her hand into the urn and tries a piece of the meat. Expertly seasoned, she chuckles in delight. The meat was perfectly tender and soft, even more than lamb. Oh, such a kind fool was Vector! It seemed like no matter what she did, she would always be forgiven.

Above her, a crow caws.

Paying it no attention, the woman continues to greedily eat the meat. How sweet it was! How soft! It must have belonged to an animal that was raised in the lap of luxury! She trembles at the delicious taste, nothing she had eaten before able to be compared to its sublimity. The crow flies overhead, eyeing the urn.

Snarling at the animal, Madame Sương shoos it away.

“What have you done to earn such a delicious treat?!” she screeches. “Go away!”

Lugging the urn into the house, she proceeds to eat her lunch of rice, vegetables and the gifted meat. As a vain woman, Madame Sương often ate less than the average villager. Due to this, her hunger found no end. She ate and ate from the urn until she found it half empty.

Overhead, the crow cawed again.

Taking another piece of meat from the urn, she rips it in half and slowly chews on it. Surely, there had to be a way to rid herself of that nasty bird. She could chase it away with a broom, perhaps. She could hire the village hunter to kill it.

Coming out of the house, she finds the crow perched on her rooftop. The crow flutters to her feet and stares at her with its intelligent eyes. It’s an ugly creature, with pitch-black feathers and a short beak. After holding her gaze for a few moments, it cocks its head.

“How delicious, the flesh of your own! Please, can I have a bone?” asks the crow.

Madame Sương’s heart jumps out of her chest. She drops the morsel of meat to the crow and runs back into the house. Returning to the urn, she digs through its remains until she finds a tuft of orange hair. The tufts of hair soon reveal themselves to be attached to a head with empty sockets and wrinkled skin. Letting out a scream at seeing her beloved son’s face, Madame Sương collapses into the urn.

Days later, the villagers would find her body rotting in the heat, the skin sloughing off of her bones. The stench had alerted them to her body, so putrid and foul for such a meticulous woman. When they found her son’s head inside the decorative urn, they believed that the wicked woman had finally gone insane and killed her son.

The notorious duo was buried in the pauper’s field, where their bones would forever rest with the people that they had once eschewed.

H☆H☆S

Upon hearing the news that my mother had died, I was overjoyed. Surely, after all my tormentors were dead, I could finally have a happy ending.

Don’t believe the person that said there’s nothing at the end of revenge. There’s satisfaction. Sweet, sweet satisfaction. Like a cool mango on a hot summer day, its sweet juices dripping down your chin.

And yet, time went on.

My husband took no concubines, much to the chagrin of his advisors. Without an heir to the throne, the king’s bloodline would become extinct. Yet, our fates weren’t supposed to extend beyond our happily ever after, so how could he have known?

Still, if our days were going to be spent idyllically under a warm sun, then what was there to complain about? We would grow old together, our hands intertwined like vines. Watching as gray streaks dotted your beloved’s hair, knowing that you are doing the same is a comforting sensation. In old age, one’s smiling eyes seem more merry than when they were younger. At night, we could warm our weary bones by the fire and compare our ailments.

That was not the case for me.

On his way to make amends with the Turtle King, my husband’s boat sank in a summer storm. Soon, I found myself crowned the King of the Amber Kingdom. Despite my people’s love, I couldn’t accept my crown with a smile.

If I was so favored by the heavens, then why did I always lose the people I loved?

As the Decandra Monarch, I spent my days listening to my people’s woes with a heavy heart. Despite all of my pain, the words of Diêm Vương continued to serve as my guide.

If I held justice in my heart and kept myself pure, my happy ending would eventually come.

It was on my deathbed that I realized I had lived virtuously to no avail.

H☆H☆S

Stirring from his bed, Vector looks at the young physician entering the room. His brows slightly raise upon seeing Dương. He clears a path through the monks, mourners and advisors. Kneeling by Vector’s bed, he places a hand on Vector’s wrinkled and bony hand. Upon seeing Vector’s wizened face and white hair, Dương frowns.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” utters Dương, a hint of fear edging his voice. “None of this was.”

Vector pulls his hand away from the young sage and glares at him.

“As the sage in charge of your happiness, I failed,” continues Dương, holding Vector’s baleful glare. “Because of this, I’ll be forced to return to samsara until my debts are cleared.”

“Leave,” orders Vector.

Dương swallows the lump in his throat. He lowers his head.

“We’ll meet again, I promise,” he vows.

Vector closes his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. How innocent he had been, slaving beneath his cruel stepmother. She had never done anything genuinely kind to him. When he had the time, he should have smothered the bitch in her sleep. He should have played the games at court, gathering as many allies as he could while slowly eliminating his enemies. If he had denounced his stepmother and stepbrother for their cruelties before their father’s death anniversaries, he could have been spared the trips to the underworld.

If only, if only, if only…

When he opens his eyes again, he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders. A cool breeze blows through the air and he finds himself back in Diêm Vương’s office. Unlike before, they are alone.

“Welcome back,” booms the King of the Underworld.

Looking down at his youthful body, Vector gives it an experimental stretch. Then he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

“I was told that this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he drawls.

Diêm Vương slightly shakes his head and then looks down at Vector’s name. It had been stamped over three times, the name almost obscured by the red ink.

“There is an imbalance in this universe,” begins Diêm Vương, stroking his beard. “After negotiations with all afterlife departments, we’ve come to a compromise.”

Vector raises a brow.

“Don’t tell me it’s what I had to go through,” he mutters.

The King of the Underworld clears his throat.

“Allow me to finish. We’re starting a new department in the afterlife. I would like you to be its first employee,” proposes Diêm Vương.

“Oh?”

“To take care of this situation…we’ll have you enter various stories and arbitrate the karmic balances for us. There’s quite a list.”

Vector frowns.

“And how will I arbitrate?”

Diêm Vương slowly blinks.

“You have experience with disposing of problems, don’t you?”

Vector chuckles and shrugs.

“It depends.”

Physical experience? Unfortunately, very little. During his rule, he only ordered the executions of the most heinous of criminals. The want to eliminate those that bothered him?

Oh, more than enough.

“The other option for you is to reincarnate into another story,” says Diêm Vương.

Immediately, Vector’s smile fades. He balls his hand into a fist. To be killed again. And again. To come to this damned place, again and again. An unending cycle of misery.

“Never,” he growls.

“Then will you take this job?”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” growls Vector.

Diêm Vương narrows his eyes.

“You’ve cheated death long enough now, child. Your soul has deteriorated with each cycle you’ve been through. Souls are not meant to be rapidly reborn.”

“If I take this job, will it mean that I’ll never be reborn again?”

“Correct.”

Vector grits his teeth. No more gruesome deaths. No one will ever cut him to pieces and feed him to the pigs again. No one will ever fry him and eat his mutilated flesh again. No one will burn him ever again.

“Deal.”

Pulling a long black stamp from a drawer, Diêm Vương stamps it on top of Vector’s name. He shows Vector his name, stamped over and over again. On top of the red reincarnation stamps is KARMIC ARBITRATOR.

A heavy wind blows into the office. Vector looks at his hands, cleared of all the blood it had shed. He feels heavy yet light at the same time, his body floating in the wind.

“There will be no need to eat, drink or sleep anymore,” declares Diêm Vương above the howling of the wind. “You are now immortal and a member of my court.”

A burning sensation fills Vector’s neck. His hand flies to the area and he grits his teeth. When the burning sensation stops, he finds Diêm Vương’s emblem embossed onto his collarbone. The black characters glare at him, glowing with an eerie pulse.

“Welcome to the Court of the Dead,” booms Diêm Vương.

Vector’s world blurs and then darkens, the wind wailing in his ears. For a brief second, a bolt of pain tears through his body. In this moment, he can see his previous reincarnations in other tales. A sorcerer. A farmer. A trickster. A prince. The memories of his most recent lifetimes rush through him in a blaze of anger. Then he awakens, coughing on a desk.

Before him, a large book sits, just like the books from his youth. Its cover is worn through and dotted with holes. Its edges are burnt, as if it was rescued from his stepmother’s fires. The smell of tobacco and betel nuts emanates from the leather. Vector takes a deep breath, reminded of his father. He runs his hands along the edges of the book, surprised to find that it was quite sturdy.

Getting up on unsteady feet, he looks down at the title.

REGISTRY OF FAIRY TALES

Then, he turns to the name plaque by his desk.

Vector

Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper

Associate of Lord Diêm Vương, Karmic Balance Department

Turning around, he sees a long rifle encased in glass. Its metallic body shines beneath the lamp. He approaches the rifle, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. This. This is his salvation.

H☆H☆S

Oh, it looks like we finished right on time. This next story will be far, farther than all of the stories we’ve been to before. I don’t know any of the characters in this one. Maybe you will.

Judging from its aura, something is terribly off with this one.

Ha, I’ve caused quite a mess for the fairytale universe, haven’t I? Rules are meant to be followed, not teased and stretched until they shatter.

Heroes are meant to fall in love and ride into the sunset. They must possess pure and unyielding hearts. Villains deserve to be punished, regardless of their intentions. The hero does not have the privilege of doing evil things to achieve their happy ending.

Just kidding. I made up the third one.

To me, we’re all bastards.

#zexal #yugioh zexal #vector #rei shingetsu #yuma tsukumo #foilshipping #ryoga kamishiro #vietnamese mythology #writing from iris #H☆H☆S

7 notes · View notes

vampirevalentineblog · 11 months

Text

October 25 2023

ok! hello! back to regular blogging. if you weren't aware i'm now hosting the old blog on tumblr so this should be easier for me to update than manually adding to the html and dealing with archiving past posts. best part is you can barely tell save for the photos are handled a bit odd now o_<;;

so i'd like to catch up on errrrr Feb to October LOL a whole year practically. lets see what i've been up to...

did wondercon in Anaheim, uh then KawaiiKon in Hawaii. spent some extra time there afterwards as well, I always enjoy snorkeling ^_^ you regularly see many turtles but i even saw a pufferfish! honolulu is nice and walkable if you've got sun protection! plus lots of other people also walk around with a parasol so nobody heckles you for it (like where I live :|||) their bus service is decent as well. i had a pretty greasy plate lunch the first day i was there so it had my stomach upset like, the whole time ;_; did an escape room with friends for the first time that was pretty fun! unfortunately kawaiikon's moved to being juried and apps are not even open yet ??? so no guarantees i'll be back next year :/

also did another Las Vegas con, it was meh. i don't care for the organizers of this one they steal art for their advertising, overcharge for tables, and then put us next to a loud ass stage. don't like that! i'd already done Omegamart the year before but i was staying in Freemont which i've never visited. i'll be back very soon and hopefully get to Nevada early enough in the day to visit Goodsprings bc you know I am a New Vegas girlie ehehe. also did an Anime Impulse back in Anaheim. I usually don't care for them for the same reasons as those other organizers but at least the crowd is better! this past january one they stuck us in a leaky barn ;_; for the table price its pretty ridiculous but i always come back despite it all because the attendees treat me well lmao

left off with pins last time, but since then got shirts made! there's two designs, my "fallen angel" girlie and my cherubim design.

you can see them off to the side there, this is my booth Colossalcon East in Pennsylvania this September. super fun! great con, lovely weeby people in PA! along the top you can also see some of my new big prints i made in like 3 weeks. just drawing drawing drawing -w-!! this con i also got to meet Grey DeLise/Griffin and she signed my Azula print for me hehe <3

my plane ride home got delayed for thunder which was stressful bc immediately after i had a flight to Japan! eek! this was my second time going this year. i had been in 2022 right when it reopened to tourists so it was a much different experience this time, wayy more tourists about. ended up arriving right at the peak of a heat wave i took it easy though just doing some figure shopping and enjoying the food. i love family restaurants there so much lmfao they're so good and cheap. also met up with a friend from all the way back in middle school who also happened to be in shibuya the same night ??? made her and her partner go to Denny's with us later on lol! also visited Odaiba and Hakone this time on my birthday! Hakone is where Evangelion's Tokyo-3 is meant to be based in so they've got their own EVA store. I got a Unit 02 strawberry drink thing, should have got the matcha-taro swirl Unit 01 soft serve icecream >:)

got back and did some house keeping up until i found out there's a halloween party! i made a very quick costume out of stuff i had lying around. only spent like 5$ for some plastic fake chains. here's my alice (sans chains ofc) i made that apron in like a day out of an old pillowcase -w-;;; i don't sew much!! maybe i would be good at it if i bought plenty of fabric and followed instructions but we'll never know because i only try it out to make something silly with no pattern using scraps all in 1 day and then i get fed up and start using hot glue and hem tape. as one does! its got a little bow in the back too but i had no interfacing so its just a piece of printer paper giving it shape. this is what halloween is about!!

please ignore the background i'm in the middle of painting my bathroom lol

up next i've got Sin City Anime in Las Vegas and Kumoricon in Portland. i like these two, completely different vibe and size but Sin City was cozy last year (they've since moved soo well see ??) and Kumori has some interesting people lmfao. i will see you guys at the swap meet +w+!! for sin city they asked if i'd be interested in an extra free booth for the 18+ lounge event and i was like ok sure why not and come to find i'm like one of 5 tables??? i don't know how it'll go over but whatever its something to do! i will have my tres leches cows and some new ones...here's a preview!

whole milk is soOoO popular i'm so happy lmfao he is for the girls and the gays <3 i've got to do some more boys....its what the people want. maaybe a whipped cream to go with whipping ? ^_^ <3!

alright that's all for now! ttyl!

#artists on tumblr #artist alley #vampirevalentineshop #neocities #blog

0 notes

the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

But soon enough, he had all four boys through the water-closet and trooped them down to the last bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was freezing cold, having been shut up for the last few years, but that couldn't be helped at the moment, and Tanaka had already spread thick wool blankets on the bed; that would have to do until they could get the fireplaces stocked with coke fuel and burning to warm the rooms up. He'd have to order more coke immediately, as well as contact Abberline at Scotland Yard, and contact the managers of his Funtom Company to either delay or find a new venue for the board meeting he had scheduled for three days away (it would be impossible for them to meet here while the manor was so packed with refugees); one more thing to take care of in the morning, and the list in his head was already entirely too long...

"All right. All of you shake out your blankets, and drape them over yourselves like tents, to hold in the heat," Ciel ordered. And once the four boys had done that, he told them, "Now undress, down to your smallclothes. When you are done, wrap the blankets around yourselves. Leave the clothes on the floor, just this once." Sebastian would probably have fits later, when he found out that clothes had been strewn about so many rooms of the mansion, but Ciel simply couldn't find the energy to care; he just wanted to get this lot in bed as soon as possible, so he could start on the next.

Once all four boys were standing before him with their blankets wrapped about their shoulders, Ciel gave them their last orders: "Keep the blankets with you while you get into bed and under the covers; you two take the middle, you get the left side, and you're on the right side. No wiggling about once you're under the covers; at four to a bed, there's not a lot of room, but there'll be no shoving others out of bed.” Once they were all lying in bed, he told them firmly, “Now stay there until someone comes to fetch you in the morning! Someone will be along soon with some warm milk for a snack, but it's fine if you fall asleep while waiting for them; you’ll be woken up just long enough to get your share."

Once they were all in bed, he closed the door behind him and walked with Lizzie back to the great hall, to start the whole process over again with another group of boys. "I'll do just what you did, with girls in groups of four," Lizzie said quietly and with the most serious expression he had ever seen on her face, "but before I do, let me use the telephone in your study. I want to tell my parents what's happened, and ask them to send over as many servants as we can spare to help your people out while they’re all here. I don't mean to insult you or your staff, Ciel, because Sebastian is truly amazing, but caring for so many children... you're simply going to need more help. I'll also ask Mother to send over all of my and Edward's old clothes for the children to wear; she went through our wardrobes just last week and pulled out several items we'd outgrown, but I don't think they've been given away yet."

"I'm not insulted at all, and thank you for the offer," Ciel said just before he smothered another yawn with his hand. He was so very tired now, having gotten up before dawn for breakfast duty back at the circus, but there were so many more children to deal with first...

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

It had been a long time since Bard had ridden a horse bareback, or ridden at night. But with close to a hundred kids suddenly showing up at the manor and in a helluva state, he wasn’t in the mood to slow down for niceties like saddles. Thankfully, there was a full moon lighting up the night, and the bay horse ‘Righty’ (named that by Finny because he was always hitched to the right side of the carriage) seemed to catch his mood and was not only agreeable to being ridden with nothing but a bridle and reins, but broke into a steady canter the second they were clear of the stables. Not nearly fast enough to take Bard’s mind off the sight he’d seen when he’d stepped briefly into the main hall before leaving (Christ, all those poor kids, their faces; no wonder the young master called ‘em half-dead!) but plenty fast for a cross-country ride at midnight.

In less than ten minutes he was hammering on the door to the dairy farmer’s cottage, bellowing, “Open up! Earl Phantomhive’s got an emergency!” It took too damn long for the farmer to get his arse out of bed and answer the door, and Bard was damn tempted to blow it open with the explosives he always kept handy, but he refrained—barely. Instead, the second the door opened he barked in the blinking man’s face, “The earl wants every damn cow you have milked right now, and all the milk brought to the manor as fast as you can get it there!”

“What, right now? But it’s hours before milking time!” the famer protested. “Doesn’t the earl understand how much such a huge schedule change will upset the cattle?”

Bard growled back, “Do you understand that right now the earl doesn’t give a shit for schedules?! Not when we just got damn near a hundred children brought into the manor, all of them rescued from some really nasty characters, and most of them looking starved half to death!”

The farmer stared at him in shock for a second. “Are you jo—”

“No, I’m not joking!” Bard snapped back at him before he could finish. “For Christ’s sake, who would joke about this?!”

The farmer spun around and shouted into the house, “Martha, wake the boys! And Nellie, too!” Less than ten minutes later the farmer, his wife, two strapping teenaged boys and a little ten-year-old girl were all heading out to the dairy barn with lanterns in hand and with their coats thrown on over their nightclothes.

Bard went with them and rolled up his sleeves, figuring that milking couldn’t be that hard. But after he told the farmer honestly that he’d never milked a cow before, the farmer asked him, “Will you give our Nellie a hand, then? The cows will take more kindly to people they know disturbing them at this hour, and Nellie knows all the equipment we use for collecting and carting the milk but she’s not strong enough to lift some of them yet.”

In short order Bard found himself taking instructions from a little girl half his size, and whose attitude flipped every few seconds between bossy and apologetic towards him; good thing he was already used to being ordered around by a kid. He paid close attention, and once he’d sussed out with her help how to wrangle all the equipment they used, he told her, “I can take it from here, if you can pitch in and help your folks with the milking; we've got lots of hungry kids to feed.”

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

With nothing else she could do at the moment, Lizzie fretfully twiddled her fingers while she counted eleven rings before someone picked up the telephone at home. "Midford Hall," she heard in a deep male voice, one that sounded decidedly grumpy. "May I ask what is the emergency? Because surely it must be an emergency, to call at this hour..."

"It is an emergency, James," Lizzie fervently told the Midford family butler.

"Lady Lizzie?" James gasped. "What's happened—oh heavens, is Phantomhive Manor being attacked again?!"

"No, it's not that, but Earl Phantomhive needs our help! Go wake up Mama and Papa, James; I need to talk to them!"

"At once, my lady!" Lizzie heard him set the telephone receiver down, and the rapid beat of his footsteps running away.

Perhaps two minutes later, she heard a clicking sound and her Papa's voice saying urgently into what must have been the receiver in his study, "Lizzie, what's happened? Are you hurt? Is Ciel hurt?"

"We're not hurt, Papa, but Ciel needs our help! He just came back from some case he was on for Her Majesty, with dozens of children that he rescued—maybe a hundred of them! I couldn't count them all, there are so many—and there's something so wrong with them; they're so—they're like wooden dolls, their faces are so lifeless! They just sit there, or stand there, and they only—"

As she spoke, she heard a fast clatter of footsteps echoing down the line, and swift rustling and clunking sounds before her mother said urgently into the receiver outside the servants' quarters, "Elizabeth, what's happened? Who's hurt? James said you and Ciel need our help..."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Having finished carrying all the children inside, Sebastian picked the grimiest-looking child and took him into the downstairs bath while Finnian went to get hot water from the kitchen. Coming back with two buckets of steaming hot water, the gardener told Sebastian, "When Bard left to wake up the farmer, he told me to tell you that he already added honey to the milk he put in a pot on the stove, so it would be ready to serve as soon as it was warmed up. I just felt the pot while I was in the kitchen, and it's nice and warm now; it looks like a whole gallon's worth, too, but I guess we'll need lots more than that. How many more buckets of hot water will we need?"

"You've brought enough for this bath, but we’ll need plenty more hot water throughout the night. Given the deplorable state of these children, we shall need to drain and change the bathwater for each one," Sebastian said grimly as he finished stripping the dirty clothes off the first boy, to reveal the skin underneath; not only was his skin just as filthy as the rags he'd been wearing, but it was riddled with sores, some of which began bleeding anew as the clothing that had been sticking to them was peeled away. "And we will likely need to bandage each of them as well; fetch me the first aid basket from under the sink in the master's bathing room. Then fetch the first aid basket that Bard keeps in the kitchen, and give it to Mey-Rin for her use."

Finny nodded and turned to leave, but Sebastian had more instructions for him; "And then go find Tanaka, and tell him that milk is ready for serving to the children already in bedrooms; I think it best that I remain on bathing duty. I have far more recent and frequent experience with bathing young boys, as part of waiting on the young master." And when no other servants were looking, he could change the water between each bath and dress the youngsters in borrowed clothes far faster than Tanaka could. Given that they had thirteen boys to bathe and clothe tonight, bursts of demonic speed were definitely called for.

"Yessir!" as Finny ran off to fetch the first aid supplies, and relay his instructions to Tanaka.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

After he’d finished putting quilts and heavy blankets on all the beds in the west wing, Tanaka was heading for the downstairs bath to take over bathing the male children when he ran into Finnian, who advised him of Sebastian’s suggestion. Tanaka nodded his agreement with the idea, since in truth Sebastian did have more experience with bathing children than he, and then followed Finnian into the kitchen.

While the young gardener emptied two pots of water into his buckets and refilled them before putting the pots back on the stove, Tanaka took the pot of milk that had been slowly heating (on the stove’s lowest setting; goodness, Bard was actually capable of heating with something other than flamethrowers) poured milk into a row of teapots he’d lined up, and fetched a set of matching teacups from the cupboard. Mm, not the Wedgwood; plain china would do for serving tonight. Guests to the mansion always received the full measure of Phantomhive hospitality regardless of their station in life, but children weakened from exhaustion and deprivation would be prone to dropping and breaking the delicate wares.

His fingers lingered for a moment over a tin of digestive biscuits, before he shook his head. Most of the children would have to be served just warm milk with honey, as the young master had ordered. They did not have nearly enough biscuits on hand, including both plain digestive and the fancier shortbread, to feed all the children. And from what he’d seen of the poor creatures lined up in the grand hallway, it would be wise to save the few they had on hand tonight for those in the most desperate stages of starvation, which would likely be the ones who had reportedly been found locked in cages like animals.

Tanaka knew well the signs of starvation, from when he’d been a mere footman in the Phantomhive employ; he could still remember the gaunt faces and limbs of those desperate Irishmen who had come to London during the years of the Potato Famine, those who were too poor to afford passage for emigrating to America. He also remembered the faces of those that he had helped the young master’s grandfather free, while breaking up that child slavery ring back in 1853. He would look over the rows of children dressed in rags to determine the worst off of the lot, and slip them each a simple digestive biscuit to tide them over while waiting for more of the warm milk that Bard would be bringing soon.

Come the morrow, they would no doubt be very busy in the kitchen indeed, working to feed so many children. Tanaka might even have to forego his tea in favor of preparing other hot beverages for their guests, a thought that made him blanch and shudder in anticipated horror. But the duty of a Phantomhive servant always came before personal comforts; he would bear up under the strain, just as he had done back in 1869 during that dreadful affair with the Red Nuns.

With the milk and tea service set on a trolley and a few items tucked into his pockets, he set out to distribute the sweetened milk they had on hand in the west wing, nodding in passing to the young master as the earl led a group of four children to the water-closet. “I take it Sebastian decided to stay on bathing duty?” the young master asked, and when Tanaka informed him he was correct, he muttered something under his breath before nodding to the teapots while asking, “How much do we have on hand?”

“Roughly three and a half quarts altogether, my lord,” Tanaka said with a bow. “But I am quite sure that Bardroy will be able to procure much more.”

“Right, then; give what we have now to the boys in the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. Two cups each or close enough,” the earl directed, with a glance at the six-ounce teacups Tanaka had set on the trolley. “After that, you can take over for me in putting children to bed.”

“Yes, my lord,” Tanaka said with a bow, and served the lads in the last two bedrooms as he’d been bidden. After all the milk had been served, he returned to the grand hall and took a few moments to inspect the children sitting or lying in rows, giving close inspection to the ones dressed in rags and filth that were lying instead of sitting. As he’d suspected, two of them were considerably worse off than the rest, perilously close to death from starvation. Perhaps because they had been captive longest, or perhaps they had refused to eat from despair, but the reason why scarcely mattered now.

Murmuring reassurances, he carefully propped them upright and hand-fed them each a plain digestive biscuit from the tin he’d tucked into a pocket, softened beforehand and washed down after with water from the hip flask he’d tucked into another pocket. There, that small bit of food should begin the process of restarting their failing digestive systems, and should keep them from passing on for at least the next few hours.

The young master came back for another group of boys just as he finished feeding the second child and laid her back down. The master frowned and furrowed his brow at Tanaka for a moment, before opening his eyes wide in realization. “They were that close?” was all he asked.

“Indeed, young master,” Tanaka said as he rose to his feet and bowed. “But now they should survive long enough to be tended in their turn with the rest. However, we shall have to take considerable care with their diet over the next few days; only one small cupful of milk to start with, followed by another in a few hours only if they can keep the first cup down.”

The young master nodded his gratitude, before turning to frown at Finnian as the lad rushed up to them with empty buckets in hand and his features creased in worry. “Master? I’m very sorry to bother you, but Sebastian’s already busy with bathing the boys, and I think Mey-Rin’s having problems…”

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Ohhh, this was dreadful! The young master was counting on her, and these poor little girls needed her help, but Mey-Rin couldn’t see! The steam from the bathwater kept fogging up her glasses; she kept pausing to wipe them off so she could work, but it only took seconds for the lenses to fog up again. But if she just left them off, then all she saw with her terrible farsightedness was a flesh-colored blur on white instead of a little girl in a bathtub… how could she properly clean these children and bandage them, if she couldn’t see the grime and the sores that needed tending?! Whimpering under her breath, Mey-Rin told herself this was absolutely not the time to burst into tears of worry and frustration; that would only make her vision worse…

“It will be all right, Mey-Rin,” she heard Tanaka say soothingly from off to her right, and then his silver-and-black blur stood next to her, nudging her more towards the head of the tub. “Here, give me the sponge; I can bathe and tend to these young girls, if you will remain as chaperone.”

Mey-Rin gratefully passed the sponge and soap over to Tanaka, and when he made a suggestion and put the shampoo bottle in her hand, she washed the child’s long brown hair while he bathed the rest of her. Washing hair was easy; she was used to doing that on herself and didn’t need eyes for it, just her sense of touch. Oh dear, this girl had dreadful tangles matting up her hair; it would take some time and care to comb them out…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

An hour after they’d started work at the dairy farm, Bard helped the farmer Josiah Vale and his sons load the last of the five-gallon canisters of milk onto their wagon, while the farmer’s wife Martha hitched their donkey to the cart, and their little girl Nellie came running out of the house with extra blankets for the farmer to bundle up in, as they were all still wearing nightclothes.

“Gee up, Jenny! There’s hungry kids waiting for this!” Josiah barked as he slapped the reins, and the donkey grunted as she began pulling the wagon. As Bard hopped back onto Righty to ride alongside, the oldest son Dan worried aloud, “But Da, what if bandits are out tonight? Remember, we heard that the baker’s family got robbed on the road just last week!”

“Any bandits we see tonight, ain’t gonna live to rob anybody else,” Bard grimly promised the teen, whose eyes went wide as Bard briefly showed him one of the guns he was carrying. “Right now that milk’s more precious than gold to the earl and those kids. But thanks for speaking up about the bandits; we hadn’t heard there were any in the area recently. I’ll let the earl know, and we’ll see about doing something about them once the kids are all taken care of and back with their folks; Earl Phantomhive doesn’t stand for any of that on his lands.”

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Finny finished bringing Sebastian and Mey-Rin the hot water for another set of baths, and returned to the kitchen with empty pails just as Bard came in from outside, lugging a big steel container with handles on it. “Here, give a hand hauling the rest in, so the farmer can go home,” Bard grunted.

Finnian dashed out and picked up the other three containers all at once, with two hanging from the fingers of his left hand; the nice dairy farmer who’d brought the milk gaped at him for a moment before blinking, shaking his head a little and getting back into the seat of his cart to go home. Finny didn’t mind the stare (much), he was used to people being surprised by his strength.

After going inside with the milk, Finny told Bard what everyone was doing now as the chef poured some of the milk into two of the water pails, since those were easier for normal people to carry, and stirred in lots of honey. When they went into the great hall, the young master looked up from where he was just gathering another group of four boys and grumbled, "It's about time! How much did you bring?"

"Just under eighteen gallons, your lordship. The farmer said that they can give you just as much and at least six gallons more for the evening milking, and the same again tomorrow morning," Bard added.

"That's enough for two teacupfuls per child tonight, with… ten gallons left—no, eleven, Tanaka already took care of some of the boys—eleven gallons left over serving with breakfast and for cooking tomorrow's meals," the young master muttered while rubbing tiredly at his face. Then he seemed to catch himself and straightened up while ordering, "Here, give these four their supper before bed, two cups each."

Finny and Bard each filled teacups for handing to the silent children, while the master continued, "All the children, both down here and already abed, will get the same amount. Bard, take care of the children still in the hall, and then you'll be hauling water for the baths while Finny makes the rounds of the bedrooms. Also, ask Tanaka to step out here long enough to identify the two children that should receive only half as much, because they've been starved too long and their stomachs will reject too much food, even if it's just milk."

"You want me to give milk to the children in bedrooms?" Finny asked, surprised that the master had that much trust in him. He was always breaking things on the grounds outside, because he didn't know his own strength—and all these poor children looked so fragile, so easy to break!

"You carried them inside the house without breaking any of them, didn't you?" Master demanded. And when Finny said he was right, he nodded while saying firmly, "You can feed them milk without hurting them either. These days you mainly break things when you get too happy or excited and forget yourself. Well, nobody's happy about this turn of events, and there's nothing exciting about serving milk. Now in the west wing, start with the second bedroom from the end on either side; Tanaka already fed the boys in the last bedrooms. Wake them up if they've fallen asleep while waiting, but don't let them get out of bed for supper, either; understand? You'll have to be careful to not let the milk spill, but just this once, they're allowed to dine in bed; it's better than letting them get chilled while standing about in unheated bedrooms."

Finny said he understood, and after helping Bard feed the first four boys and seeing how it should be done, he carried a pail, a dipper and a teacup with him up the stairs. The master trailed behind him with the four boys in tow while muttering under his breath, something about a dairy budget. Finny felt a little sorry for the young master, who looked so very tired now; when he himself was tired, thinking was really hard, but right now the master had to do so much thinking...

Finny was very, very careful as he opened the door and didn't quite tiptoe into each bedroom, roused each group of children with his very gentlest shakes and taps, and helped them sit up in bed long enough to drink the milk he'd brought, filling the teacup twice for each of them. He was really worried about spilling the milk, because it had taken him a long time to learn to eat and drink without making a mess. But all these children must have had teachers just as good as Mr. Sebastian, because none of them spilled even a single drop.

When each bedroom full of children had had their supper of sweetened milk, Finny very carefully tucked them into bed again, using the same words that Mr. Sebastian had told him after giving him his very own bed in the servants' quarters. "Now you go to sleep, and stay under the covers until I come for—I mean, until someone comes for you in the morning."

And then, because these children had probably come from families instead of from laboratories and Finny remembered one of the children's books he'd been given explaining what normal families did at bedtime, he sang a lullaby before leaving each bedroom. Finny knew, because Bard had explained it to him the first time he'd seen the word, that a lullaby was a special song that was sung to help children go to sleep. But he didn't know any of those special songs; nobody had ever sung him a lullaby before. So he improvised, saying in a singsong as he turned the lights back off, "Go to slee-eep, you're all safe now. Go to slee-eep, things will be better now..."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Sebastian had already bathed, bandaged and dressed nine children in borrowed clothes, and was still washing the hair of the tenth when Bard came into the bathroom where he was working, carrying a nearly emptied pail of milk, a dipper and a plain servant’s teacup. "Supper's served," he announced with an attempt at humor, though the grim expression on his face ruined the effect. "I already gave some to each kid still in the hall. Finny's making the rounds of the kids already in bedrooms."

Sebastian looked at him sharply at the last sentence. "What is Tanaka doing now, if not serving milk?" Soon after they’d begun their contract, when the master had brought Tanaka home from the Royal Hospital, he’d made it clear that Tanaka was on the books as a steward but unofficially retired, and no one except the master himself could order him to do anything. But immediately afterwards, Tanaka had quietly assured Sebastian that when situations were particularly tense or urgent, the former butler would pitch in with no need for orders and give his best effort right along with everyone else.

"He's helping Mey-Rin give baths to the girls that need 'em; told Finny that he's too old to care even if they were prime beauties in perfect health, and right now I don't think the girls are gonna complain either." Bard shrugged. "Finny said he heard Mey-Rin fretting that her glasses keep fogging up on her, and if she takes them off she can't see what she's doing either."

Sebastian gave a small frown and shook his head as he commented mostly to himself, "I should have realized that at the start." Mey-Rin had been hired on his recommendation, and he knew of her eyesight issues better than anyone. For the first time in a very long time, the question was not rhetorical but self-castigating: how could he be the Phantomhive butler, if he didn't anticipate and compensate for the other servants' human shortcomings in a situation like this?

"Hey, nobody can think of everything all the time," Bard said with another shrug, as he set down the pail and used the dipper to fill the teacup with warm milk. Sebastian held the boy he'd been washing upright and steady as Bard carefully brought the cup to his lips, crooning, "Come on, suppertime... this is fresh from the cow, and sweetened with honey; can't get better than that! Good stuff, right? Let's put some meat back on those ribs..."

After the still-nameless boy drank two teacups of warm sweetened milk, Bard set the cup and pail down and rolled up his sleeves. "His lordship put me to hauling water for baths, but that leaves me some time to spare. How about I take over washing kids for you, so you can take over for the young master? You know I've got experience with bandaging too, and it looked to me like he's just about sleepwalking now; don't reckon he had any sleep at all before you came here with the kids."

"No, he had not. Thank you, Bard," Sebastian said as he stood up and dried his hands. As he rolled down his sleeves and put his tailcoat back on, he almost commented on how surprisingly competent the soldier-turned-chef was being tonight, but refrained at the last second. Instead he picked up the pail of warm sweetened milk and took it to the kitchen, to be poured into a more appropriate container for serving the earl.

When he found his young master, who was indeed stumbling with fatigue, the little earl still stubbornly insisted on seeing through his self-appointed task of putting the current group of four boys to bed. But the very moment those four were under the covers and the light in their room put out, he turned to Sebastian and all but fell into his arms. "Bed," was all he mumbled, but that was command enough for them both.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian said, and then carried the young master to his bedroom, aware that he must make quite a sight; it was not unheard of for servants to carry tired children to bed, but one did not normally do so while balancing a loaded tea tray on one's head. Under the circumstances, however, exceptions had to be allowed. Indeed, they passed Finnian coming out of another bedroom with a milk pail and teacup, and all the gardener did was nod a drowsy greeting to them without even blinking at Sebastian's unusual chapeau.

Once in the master's bedroom, he set down first Ciel and then the tea tray, and gave the boy a cupful of warm sweetened milk to drink while he swiftly and skillfully divested him of all his clothes and got him ready for bed. Ciel barely seemed to notice, his eyes fixed either on the teacup or on nothing at all, automatically switching his grip on the cup from one hand to the other as Sebastian gently tugged his jacket and shirt off of him and slipped his nightshirt on.

Sebastian said as he deftly buttoned the nightshirt, snaking his fingers up between the boy and the teacup, "I do apologize for not drawing you a bath before bed, my lord, but under the circumstances..." The young master made only a grunt of acknowledgment in response before draining the last of the warm sweetened milk, handing the now-empty cup back to the butler and turning to gracelessly flop into bed. With an affectionate tsk at his lack of manners, Sebastian tucked him in properly and bowed himself out of the room, aware that the young earl had fallen into dreamless sleep even before the light had been put out.

Next Sebastian tracked down Lady Elizabeth, who was also quite tired from lack of sleep... and at first just as determined to see to the finish the task her fiancé had asked of her, that of putting all the female children to bed. He very gently rebuked her with, "But my lady, to see you doing the duties of a servant, when a servant stands here ready for orders; surely your mother the Marchioness would not approve."

"But it's not proper for a man to put girls to bed," Lizzie said stubbornly, before covering a yawn with her hand.

Sebastian gestured to the current group of four girls who were crawling into bed as he said persuasively, "When the girls in question are keeping themselves well-covered with blankets, my lady, surely that satisfies propriety."

"Welll..." Lizzie almost visibly wavered before finally giving in. "All right; there are only a few more girls left anyway, and two of them still need Mey-Rin to give them baths first."

"Quite so, my lady. Do allow me to escort you to your room and serve you a nightcap of warm sweetened milk."

As he walked her back to her guest bedroom, Lizzie said between yawns, "Sebastian, my parents will send over some of our servants in the morning, to help out for the next few days that all these children are here. And Mama said she'd have some more clothes brought over, too."

"They will all be most welcome," was all Sebastian said in response. After they reached her guest room, he served Lizzie some warm sweetened milk before bidding her good night and returning to the great hall, where more children awaited.

As he trotted down the grand staircase, he met Finnian coming back down with an empty pail and a tired but pleased expression. "All the children have been given warm milk, Mr. Sebastian. And I only spilled one time, and it was just a few drops!"

"Well done then, Finnian," and Sebastian was mildly surprised to find that the praise was actually sincere, and not the near-meaningless flattery he occasionally doled out to the boy and to Mey-Rin to get them to stop weeping or howling about their inadequacies. The task of dispensing warm beverages to dozens of children, when Finnian himself was operating on less than adequate sleep, must have taken prolonged concentration on the boy's part. To complete the task with only one minor spill was far better than Sebastian would have expected of him; really, nearly the entire staff was being far more competent than usual tonight. "Now do resume hauling hot water for baths, while I take care of putting the remaining children to bed."

He put two more groups of boys to bed, and then the last group of four girls after Mey-Rin and Tanaka had finished bathing and dressing them (three of them in clothes borrowed from the young master’s closets, after they had completely exhausted Lady Elizabeth’s travel trunk.) Rather than stand in the bedroom giving directions, he undressed them himself and re-wrapped them in blankets at his top speed, which was considerably faster than any of the children could have managed. Lady Elizabeth would have protested if she'd known, but as Bard had pointed out, the girls were really not in any state to complain about his methods, particularly since it got them under the covers faster.

The last girl he put to bed didn't need to be undressed, since all she had on her was Lady Elizabeth's spare nightgown; a blue flannel affair with many colorful butterflies printed on the fabric. But since it suited his butler aesthetics to spend an equal amount of time with each child, he produced a small hairbrush from a pocket and spent a few seconds brushing the child's hair before tucking her in with the others already in bed.

The girl gave him a weak but clearly grateful smile, and whispered "Thank you." When she spoke, Sebastian abruptly recognized her; this was the same girl who had said "Please" to the young master a few hours ago, back in Baron Kelvin's mansion.

He smiled back at her, approving of her good manners; he neither needed nor asked for expressions of gratitude for doing his duties for the young master (which was just as well, because the earl hardly ever said them), but he did appreciate them when they were given sincerely. "You are quite welcome. Now sleep, child; you're safe here." After she'd obediently closed her eyes, he put out the light and returned downstairs.

Returning to the baths, he took over for Bard so the chef could go to sleep, and sent Finny tottering off to bed as well once he'd brought the hot water for the final bath. After the last group of three boys had all been bathed, bandaged and dressed in clothes borrowed from the master's closet, he led them all through the bedtime routine and tucked them in. Checking his pocket watch, he frowned at the time it displayed; well past four o'clock in the morning. But now that everyone was asleep, he could stop acting quite so human and be more efficient.

The master had given him permission to use his full abilities 'just this one time', and Sebastian chose to interpret 'this one time' to refer to this entire, unprecedented and still ongoing situation. Lady Elizabeth had informed him that members of the Marquis Midford's serving staff were coming on the morrow, and while he would admit that more people would be needed to properly tend so many children, he would not have the Marchioness Midford or anyone else thinking that more servants were needed to tend to the estate itself; the Phantomhive reputation was at stake.

First, stocking the pantry and larder. He went downstairs to the kitchen and storerooms, and swept a hand over the shelves as he summoned and bent aether to his supernatural will. In short order every shelf was laden to the groaning point with sacks of flour and other baking essentials, jars of honey and preserved fruits and vegetables, and dozens of cured hams and smoked fishes. Then he restocked the root cellar in seconds with plenty of potatoes, onions, turnips and the like, and after a moment's thought he conjured four bulging sacks full of lemons, limes and oranges from the Americas; good for treating scurvy, which he'd seen signs of in nearly all the boys he'd bathed.

As a final touch, he left two haunches of venison and an entire side of beef hanging in the chilled air of the meat-smoking shed. Sebastian made a note to advise his young master of the full restocking, to give the earl time to come up with a plausible lie if anyone should ask how they’d acquired so much on such short notice. Perhaps the master could say that they’d raided the baron’s mansion for supplies as well as children, before burning it to ashes.

Now, the fuel for heating. He stocked the coal cellar to the brim with high-quality coke, before stepping into a shadow—and stepping out again in the east wing's furthest guest room. Traveling through shadows eliminated the possibility of children being awakened by the creaking of little-used doors opening and closing.

In that first guest room as in all the other rooms occupied by the recently freed children, he silently created a suitable supply of coke in each fireplace, set it ablaze with a gesture, and put the steadily burning results behind a metal screen that would both block the light from sleeping eyes and prevent stray embers from setting the floor or throw rugs alight. And before leaving each room he took an instant to neatly fold all the clothing that had been discarded for sleep, and set each tidy little pile at the foot of the bed.

Now, the general tidying up. After dropping the corpse back through the broken window in the hallway by Lady Elizabeth’s guest room, Tanaka had tacked a thick wool blanket over the shattered glass; now Sebastian converted the blanket into new glass for the window, and made the bloodstains on the hall floor vanish. Then he rebuilt the damaged grand staircase, replaced the statues Finny had tossed as ammunition (except for the bust of Aristotle; the master had mentioned before that he didn’t like the looks of that one), and swept the floor clear of even the smallest speck of rubble.

That took care of the interior; time to deal with the house exterior and grounds, with maximum efficiency. Dropping his corporeal form entirely, the demon swept over the outside of the mansion in seconds, searching out every bullet hole and cracked surface remaining from Mey-Rin and Finnian’s battles and seamlessly filling them in.

After finishing the mansion's exterior, he fetched back the bodies of the three performers that had been killed, and he instantly shredded them into bloody fertilizer, which was mixed into the root soil for the new trees he set in place of the ones that Finnian had knocked down. Only Finnian would be apt to notice the replacements, but Sebastian had schooled that one well, and knew he would say nothing to anyone. As an afterthought, he put the leftover fertilizer into the flowerbeds for the master's prized white and Sterling roses; they would surely benefit from the bloodmeal as well.

And one more errand: flitting across the countryside and into the heart of London, Sebastian retrieved the master's violin from the townhouse. Once the children were awake, he was sure they'd be far too busy at the manor for carriage rides to the city for quite some time, but the young master would need his violin to keep up his lessons. As an afterthought, he picked up the box of marbles as well; he was rather sure that the master would agree that they now had a far more destitute group of children on hand to give the marbles to.

After returning to the manor and to corporeal form, Sebastian took a moment to haul the large hay wagon he'd created around to the back of the barn on the off chance that it would be needed again for transportation while the children were here, though they would need every coach horse in the stable to pull it when filled to capacity. He checked his pocket watch again as he returned inside, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. Not quite 5:00 a.m.; he still had time for one last task before going to the kitchen to start the day’s baking.

Trotting down to the wine cellar with lantern in hand, he checked in on the three circus performers he'd stashed down there until the young master had time to decide what would ultimately be done with them. Still tied up and gagged, they'd gone so far as to wriggle towards each other, and Dagger and Beast were currently lying in awkward back-to-back positions, trying to undo each other's bonds. He tsked at their lack of imagination before he advised them, "If you'd thought to work to loosen on each others' gags first, one of you could have then used your teeth to begin chewing through the ropes. Not that you likely would have succeeded with that either before I arrived to put a stop to it. But you'll be free of those bonds soon enough, now that I finally have a little time to provide you with more suitableaccommodations. If you'll excuse me," as he stepped past them and around a corner of the cellar to where the racks of champagne were resting, well out of sight of the trio.

He created and then dragged out of that corner, one or two sections at a time, the walls of an iron cage that was just the same size as the cages that he'd pulled twenty-two children out of a few hours ago. It was but the work of moments to bolt everything together, and then he ripped the bonds and gags off the prisoners even while tossing them into the cage one-two-three. Lunging as best he could on just one leg, Dagger tried to scramble out but just got the cage door slammed in his face as Sebastian locked them in. "Bastard! Treating us like animals, after we took you and Smile in as friends!" the boy shouted while grabbing at his now bloodied nose.

"On the contrary, it is not my intention to treat you as animals. You are being treated just as the children that we rescued tonight were treated by your patron," Sebastian informed him pleasantly. "I did say suitable accommodations, did I not? It seems quite suitable, for you to be treated in the same fashion as the children you kidnapped." He would have to inquire from the master later as to how they should be fed as well as how often. Given the signs of scurvy and general malnutrition he’d already seen in the children, he suspected the usual diet consisted of one meal of gruel per day, but how should it be administered? He rather doubted decent china dishware and silverware were involved.

The cage was far too small for any of the three to stand up in; they ended up sitting on the cold metal floor, lined up in a row and glaring out at him as he tidied up their torn bonds and the hand tools he'd created and used for bolting the cage together. Beast growled, "You could at least give us back our prosthetics!"

"Ah, yes, the prosthetic limbs that the late Doctor provided for you," Sebastian said as he walked over to the heap of prosthetics he'd left by the base of the stairs.

"The late... ye killed him?!" Joker cried out in outrage, lunging forward to grip one of the bars of the cage with his remaining hand. "Ye soulless bastard, how could ye?! Th'doctor was a good man! He had nothin' t'do wi' the kidnappings; he wouldna' harm a fly!"

That got Sebastian to turn and blink at him in surprise. "You really didn't know? He duped the lot of you?" He chuckled as he held up Beast's leg, admiring the handiwork by the lantern's light. "Liars who've been lied to; my, that is amusing!"

"What're ye talking about?!" Joker demanded.

"Why, I'm talking about the use that 'good man' made of the children you brought to the baron's mansion. The 'special ceramic' that your artificial limbs are made out of? Were you really entirely unaware of what made them so special?" as he tapped the limb with a gloved finger. On a whim, he inhaled deeply, to see how much of a scent of the original person or persons remained. Ah, yes; when it had been attached to Beast, her scent had overwhelmed everything else, but now he could ever-so-faintly detect traces of the bones used in its composition. A male child had gone into this limb's making... no, make that two different children.

He told the three performers what their doctor had said and done right in front of his and his master's eyes back at Baron Kelvin's manor, savoring the looks of growing horror on their faces. He'd grown to enjoy playing the perfect butler, but he could not deny that it was also enjoyable to be a source of horror now and then; quite refreshing, really.

"N-no! It's all a lie! You're lying!" Dagger screamed, his face gone completely white.

"I don't tell lies," Sebastian informed him rather frostily. In point of fact, he couldn't tell lies, as that was one of the restrictions his master had set when they'd formed the contract. And dealing with that restriction, one of the more challenging aspects of this contract, was part of what made it the most interesting contract he'd ever had. He admitted to the prisoners, "I will occasionally prevaricate, mislead or misdirect. But every word that comes out of my mouth is indeed true!"

He tossed the prosthetic limbs into the cage at their feet with a genial, "Here, by all means, re-equip yourselves with the remains of some of the children you once kidnapped." But the performers shied away from the limbs as if they were poisonous serpents, instead of scrambling to put them on. Sebastian left them there as he turned to head back up the stairs, consulting his pocket watch again. Hmm, he'd best get started baking the day's bread; they would need quite a few loaves to feed so many...

"Wait!" Joker cried out suddenly. "We've more to tell ye; more that ye an' Smile need to know about!"

Sebastian turned to him with a dash of impatience. "Such as...? I can spare you exactly one more minute, so whatever information you have, say it quickly."

"There be more children involved than ye know about; th' children at Renbon Workhouse! Th'baron owns th' workhouse, he's patron of all the children there, our lil' brothers 'n' sisters! 'Tis why we did as Father wanted, kidnapping other children for him; he tol' us if we didn't, he'd cut the workhouse off an' let them all starve t'death!" All three prisoners stared up at him imploringly as Joker begged, "Ye can hang us, aye, we deserve it an' we know it, but they's innocent children too; don't let them starve!"

"I shall inform the master when there is time for him to deal with them, after we have properly dealt with the children we have just rescued," Sebastian informed them, before proceeding up the stairs to the kitchen. He estimated that they would need at least sixteen loaves of bread for the morrow—ah, no, Lady Elizabeth said that the Midfords would be sending staff over to assist in caring for the children; make that eighteen loaves of bread, to feed the adults as well... He'd best bake a full twenty loaves, to be on the safe side.

Once the first batch of bread was baking in the oven, Sebastian loaded the stove with pots of water for preparing porridge. But he paused just before lighting the burners, when his supernaturally sharp hearing caught a sound from outside; someone approaching the manor, riding a horse at a fast canter. And the sun wasn't even up yet; who could it be at this hour?

Next: The Cavalry, Or...?

#black butler fanfiction

1 note · View note

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

For your suddenly omegaverse au what exactly happened? Like I think obiwan and Anakin hop over from cannon verse to omegaverse but I am unclear on if there already existed obiwan and Anakin in omegaverse. Did they die early or do they just not exist or are they just not force sensitive and therefore not a part of the order? Is there still a sith conspiracy around Anakin?

Context: Original Post, Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom, Soap Operas

So, from the original post:

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse

Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don’t exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood.

To clarify: There has never been an Anakin Skywalker in this AU. There has never been an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They don't know this for sure when they land in the AU, though. All they know is that the Jedi have no record of either of them. They figure, well, maybe they just got lost in the shuffle. Anakin wasn't found until he was nine, after all, and that was only by great coincidence.

The rest of this post has almost no mention of the omegaverse elements, FYI.

Warning: References to the Tusken massacre, explicit sedation and isolation of a mentally unstable individual threatening violence.

I don’t want to make light of institutionalization and involuntary holds, but Anakin is a character with a history of violence talking about repeating such an act, and that’s... a bit of an extreme case.

------

It's not that hard to convince the Temple to let them run a mission that lets them stop by Tatooine or Stewjon. Anakin cares a lot more, so Tatooine it is! Obi-Wan can tell there's something sketchy going on with Anakin's particular anxiety about this, but he rolls with it. Anakin was very specific about the timing for some reasons, and at this point, it's easier to just let it all play through.

They go well after the whole “congrats, you’re omegas... somehow,” thing has happened, a month or so before Geonosis would have happened. Obi-Wan has managed to help the council sabotage and delay the Separatist side of the war enough that they’ve gained... maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just a little more time to keep a few more people alive. Nobody’s reached out to Kamino yet, and Jango isn’t staging a failed assassination to draw someone in, either. They’ve bought enough time for Anakin to spend his vacation time checking in on his mom seeing if he exists here, and Obi-Wan can go with him.

They get to Tatooine. They wander about, and Anakin doesn't actually explain where they're going, but takes them straight to where the Lars farm is. Obi-Wan lets Anakin tell him that it was the Force that led him to the right area. Anakin can sense that his mom is in there, and Obi-Wan chalks up the relief from his former padawan to 'she's here and we don't have to look for her.'

Anakin is... panicking. Just a bit. What if he shows up and it turns out this reality's Anakin is off doing something completely unrelated and she realizes he's the wrong person? Or what if she doesn't recognize him and he calls her Mom anyway? What if he fucks up and says something stupid or just starts crying on her? She'll think he's insane.

Obi-Wan... takes over.

Anakin stays hidden, listening. Obi-Wan knocks on the door, and asks if there's a 'Shmi Skywalker' in residence. Someone in town mentioned her. He explains that he has a young friend of about twenty years--they're not sure, exactly, because the friend doesn't know his own birthday, but it's about there--who happens to be a Skywalker, and they're trying to see if they can reconnect him with a parent. They don't have much to go off of other than the surname... the Shmi that lives here wouldn't happen to have ever had any children about that age?

No. She hasn't had any children of her own blood, actually, her only child is her stepson, but she'd be happy to meet this other Skywalker, if he's in the area. It's always nice to find family, and connecting with those that were separated from you is a big deal on Tatooine. She's not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

(Cliegg, dear, put down the rifle.)

Obi-Wan promises to let his friend know, bids them goodbye, and goes to find Anakin.

Anakin is having a bit of a breakdown.

As one does.

Anakin insists that they stick around for a bit, that they do what they can to protect the farm, because that's his mom, even if she's not really his mom, and Obi-Wan can tell there's a Lot Going On here. He assumes it's because Anakin's upset his mom doesn't know him, which is a little irrational on account of their two options being "Anakin doesn't exist (and so Shmi doesn't know him)" and "Anakin does exist (but Shmi doesn't know this Anakin, so she still doesn't know him)," but Anakin's not a very rational person.

Obi-Wan thinks tamping down the current crisis is probably a little more important than chastising Anakin's attachment issues, mostly because Anakin's hands are shaking, and he's looking a little wild-eyed, and like. Obi-Wan's not great at dealing with Anakin's many and varied emotions, but he's learned at some point when it's best to just... roll with it Until There's Less Risk of Stab or Sobbing Laughter.

He helps figure out some minor fuckery with the Force to hide the family in the homestead behind them from visitors, and to warn them to hide when someone comes by. It’s not a lot--mostly just meditating and asking the Force for a helping hand--but it’s nice.

Except, well, Anakin keeps fidgeting. He keeps panicking. He has them coming back almost daily for a week, always too scared to talk to his mom but insistent on protecting her, and always looking at the calendar. Obi-Wan wants to get back to the Temple, but whatever the actual hell is going on with Anakin is too big to just ignored.

A specific day comes and goes. Anakin is a mess of jitters and nerves, and finally Obi-Wan asks just the wrong (right?) question, and... they visit Shmi.

Anakin says they can talk later, he just wants to see his mom One Last Time.

(Obi-Wan is getting more and more worried, but he sits through the incredibly awkward meeting between Anakin and his alt-universe mom, watches as Anakin has no idea what to say and almost cries, and Shmi just kind of lets him do that and Beru--a sweet girl, Obi-Wan thinks, and very practical--tells him that this is all very normal for reunited slaves.)

(Obi-Wan wonders if maybe there’s some stuff Anakin never told him about how being a slave affected him.)

(Obi-Wan had thought they’d moved past most of this, but..)

The meeting ends. There’s hugging.

They get back to the ship, and Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin fall apart. Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin cry and scream into a pillow, hyperventilate and nearly punch a hole in the wall as he rages about how it was all for nothing! Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin break into a million pieces in a way he’s never seen before.

Obi-Wan gets a confession.

Anakin tells him about the Tuskens.

It’s not an easy conversation. It’s not a short conversation, either. Anakin’s full of pain and misery and rising guilt, talks about how he’s been asking himself if it would be easier to keep his mother safe if he just killed them all now, except Obi-Wan would know, and be disappointed, and sure the Chancellor had said that they were little more than rabid animals, but Anakin doesn’t think he can kill the younglings again when his mom is still fine, and--

Obi-Wan sedates him.

He wants to say that he’s not proud of this, but... Anakin isn’t well. Anakin isn’t well in a way that is currently, specifically, revolving around doing extreme violence. Anakin is talking about going out and committing a slaughter as preventative maintenance.

Anakin stays sedated until they get back to the Temple, and he’s put in Force-suppressant cuffs--Obi-Wan quietly tells them to use something that can’t be sliced or taken apart by a droid specialist, and to avoid collars because Anakin was a slave for nearly a decade, and has a lot of traumatic associations--and in an isolated room.

It’s not a cell. Not technically.

He can’t just leave, though.

Obi-Wan hates himself for it, just a little. He doesn’t want to be doing this, not to his padawan, his brother, his son, but... a massacre. Even the younglings, he’d said.

(“He said he didn’t think he could do it again,” Obi-Wan mutters, half to himself and half to the mind healer that asks for his rundown of the situation. “I think he knows it was wrong, but...”)

(But he still did it, of course.)

It’s... better than Obi-Wan feared, but worse than he hoped.

Anakin is emotionally unstable. He has been, for a long time, but he’s usually functional. When the mind healer isn’t directly poking at his worst wounds, Anakin can more or less pass for... not okay, necessarily, but no worse than anyone else in the war had. He can say the right words. He can do a joint meditation. He can talk about philosophy the way a Knight that’s taken all the right classes does.

But part of Anakin still holds to the idea that the Tuskens deserved to die.

“This is my fault,” Obi-Wan whispers, more than once, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I should have...”

“He was an adult,” says Mace, who isn’t Mace, not the one that Obi-Wan knows, but a newer friend, one that’s still figuring how to act around him. “Young, but still an adult. He made that choice.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Things aren’t that simple.

“The timing can’t have been a coincidence,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, later on, but in the same spot, and the same position.

The Quinlan of this universe shrugs. He knows Obi-Wan better than most, right now. Psychometry’s helpful that way, and sharing Obi-Wan’s heat hadn’t hurt. “Seems likely. You said Sith were involved and setting traps, and a kid like yours, with that much power and trauma... ripe for the molding.”

Obi-Wan whines, and then catches the noise and stuffs it back down, locks it up tight with the other ‘instinct’ things he doesn’t like to think about having. The sound already has Quinlan shifting closer, and the smell is... intended to be comforting, he thinks. Reacting to his own distress, which he’s probably just pumping out right now, because he still doesn’t know how to--

“Can I help?” Quinlan asks, and Obi-Wan lets him.

Someone gets through to Anakin, maybe, or he just lets himself be ground down, or Obi-Wan’s entreaties that he can’t teach Ahsoka until he understands his crimes get through. He won’t be trusted around the clones until the Jedi can trust him to do the right thing, they inform him.

“I wouldn’t hurt the clones.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that until you understand your crimes and truly, actually feel remorse for them.”

There wasn’t a crime, technically. Not in this universe. That tribe is still alive, here, unknowing of the fate they escaped by dint of Anakin talking himself down from committing another slaughter.

(He tells the mind healer it’s because Obi-Wan was there.)

(He might have done it, he says, if he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him.)

(He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, that Obi-Wan’s opinion is worth more than the horror of what he might become.)

“We’re going to keep an eye on anyone talking to Palpatine,” Shaak tells him one day, after Anakin’s been mental instability hold for two weeks. “We don’t know for sure how far the similarities extend from your universe to ours, but given everything else you’ve been right about...”

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asks.

Shaak grimaces, fangs glinting in the light. “I want to believe we’d have never allowed a child into such a position, but I can’t know what political leverage may have been used in your dimension... whatever reason was had to put Skywalker in those rooms, we know the consequences now--”

“What did he do to my padawan?” Obi-Wan demands, because Anakin won’t even tell him that. Anakin hasn’t mentioned Palpatine since they left Tatooine. Not to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing physical,” Shaak manages. “But the lies he told and the suggestions he planted... it’s good they haven’t met again yet in this life. We’ll all be keeping them far apart.”

He wants to take solace in that. “Why do you know before I do?”

“Skywalker values your opinion,” she says. “Only yours. He doesn’t want you more disappointed in him than you already are, so much of what is relayed to the council as a matter of security goes no further, but this was deemed necessary to share. He agreed to it, if you worried we’d broken his confidence.”

Anakin’s therapy would normally be entirely private.

Anakin’s therapy would normally not be in response to confessions of mass slaughter.

He hasn’t asked to be let out, which Obi-Wan hopes is a sign that he realizes at least subconsciously that he was in the wrong. The mind healer says he could have been released under watch by a Master probably a day or two after he arrived, but seems to be drawing some kind of comfort in knowing he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried.

Obi-Wan is Anakin’s emergency contact. His next of kin. His healthcare proxy. Anakin has a right to privacy, minor as it is in such a situation, and everyone recognizes and treats him as an adult, but... Obi-Wan learns as much from the mind-healer as he would have back when Anakin was actually a child.

“He trusts you to make the right decisions,” the mind healer tells him, careful and unassuming. “He has... a lot of conflicting opinions about many things, including the order, the coming war, the nature of human reproductive dynamics, the Code... but he seems keen on the idea that you are his best reference on morality and ethics.”

Oh, good, more horrifying responsibility.

“He’s better,” the mind healer tells him. “I want to get him out of here before he starts going stir crazy while still relying on the perceived safety as a crutch for his mental health. And he--”

“He’ll be staying with me,” Obi-Wan says, heavy as anything. “I know.”

“Well... there’s a war coming,” the mind healer says. She offers a thin smile when he looks at her. “I don’t want him going out, but it makes him feel useful, gives him a direction for the aggression, and... the Council is adamant that we’ll need him as much as we need you.”

It’s true.

“Did he tell you why everyone called him the Hero With No Fear?”

“No.”

“Ask him.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Shmi Skywalker #Mace Windu #Quinlan Vos #Shaak Ti #time travel #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #Phoenix Answers Asks #phoenix posts #Tusken Massacre #death mention #dehumanization mention #institutionalization tw #involuntary hold tw #sedation tw #involuntary sedation tw

281 notes · View notes

myherofanfictionacademy · 3 years

Text

Problem

A/N: This is the last story I'm going to be posting from my older stories. I think I might add onto this one in the future though...

Female Detective Reader

Their Pov.:

"Hey Aizawa fancy seeing you here." Hawks said as he spotted Aizawa in front of the agency building. "I just have some business to do here." Aizawa responded. "By hiding in those bushes? Are you spying on someone by any chance?" "Just drop it." "Always with a cold attitude."

Once Aizawa had started to help Dabi, it didn't take long for Hawks to start appearing around him often. He was a double agent, but besides that he had some history with Dabi. Aizawa didn't really get along with Hawks because of how flamboyant his personality was, so he could only tolerate him for so long.

"So how long are you just going to watch me for?" Aizawa asked Hawks, who had not moved away from him in over ten minutes. "Until you tell me what you're up to." Hawks responded. "I'm just looking out for someone. They helped me so I'm just trying to repay the favor." "Whose the person? Oh... Don't tell me it's a girl?" Hawks started to tease Aizawa, but he had already shut him out.

"Did I miss the memo for a meeting or something?" Dabi asked as he approached the two. "Oh hey Dabi." Hawks greeted. "Aizawa here finally got a girlfriend." "Just shut it you." Aizawa glared at him. Hawks had other plans and just continued to poke fun at him. "Come on, just point her out and I'll leave you alone."

The doors to the agency opened up as a few members of the agency headed out for lunch. After a few minutes the three watched as y/n walked out of the building. "Her." Aizawa said. "Are you satisfied now?" "No way!" both Hawks and Dabi exclaimed. "Wait you too?!" Hawks directed towards Dabi. "Looks like we have a problem. And there's no way you two are gonna steal her away from me." Dabi said.

"I Don't Think So." Hawks took off in the direction that y/n had gone. He didn't get very far as he found himself wrapped up in Aizawa's scarf. "Not before me you don't" Dabi and Aizawa began to race each other, with Hawks catching up a little bit later after freeing himself from the scarf. "No way am I going to lose to you two." This was going to end in the most heated competition, and with three passionate men after the heart of y/n, it was going to get very heated.

1st-Person Pov.:

The time was 12:15pm, and I was headed to my favorite café for lunch. "One cup of coffee and a bagel." I ordered. The day had been going great so far, and to top it off my boss gave me the rest of the day off, since I've been working overtime this past week. I also got the weekend off so I needed to find something to do.

"Hey there Kid." Hawks said as he sat down beside me. "How are you doing today." "I'm good." I responded. "Good to see you’re looking better." "Yeah, well.....would you believe me if I told you that I got a visit from a beautiful angel?" I became startled for a second. "You died?!"

Hawks burst out into a fit of laughter. "Actually I was talking about you." I felt my cheeks heat up a little. I wasn't used to receiving comments like this, so I lost my voice. Fortunately I didn't need to worry about replying.

"Hey Little Mouse." Dabi said as he took a seat across from us, Aizawa soon following. "I don't think I've ever seen you three in the same place at once." I commented. "It's not the first time." Aizawa told me. "We actually worked together, that's why I'm in a predicament right now." "Oh. I didn't know that Hawks was there though."

Hawks looked over at me. "I have some history with Dabi from years ago, which is why I became a double agent in the first place." I nodded my head as I followed along with what they were telling me. Hawks and Dabi's pasts connected when they were younger where they were put into a "program" to become "better".

"You seem to be getting along pretty well which is surprising." I told them. "We didn't get along very well before, but now we have a common denominator in our equation." Aizawa told me. "Anyways, the time has really flown by. Don't you need to get back to the agency?" "Nope. I'm off 'til Monday."

"Then how about we do something?" Hawks suggested. "Like what?" I asked. "We could go to the spring festival." Dabi said. We all agreed on it and that we would head there tomorrow morning, then went our separate ways. I was glad to see that the three of them were doing so much better.

I didn't bother packing that night and instead did it in the morning. We would be spending the weekend somewhere on the beach, but Aizawa, Dabi, and Hawks wouldn't tell me much. It was around 10am. when I received a text from Hawks:

Hawks: Good morning Songbird. Send me your address so we can pick you up.

I sent him my address and in no time at all, the three of them were knocking on my apartment door. "Looking good kid." Hawks complimented me. I gave him a quiet thanks then we headed off to the train station. It was only an hour train ride to get to the beach.

"Wow this place is packed." I thought as we waited for the train to arrive. "I'm guessing that it's going to be pretty busy at the beach as well." "Is something wrong little mouse?" Dabi asked me. "Just thinking about how many people are traveling." I responded. "It is spring break, but besides that it makes it easier on me because no one will pay attention to who I am."

The train was a little delayed due to some maintenance issues, but it was nothing major. The seats we were taken to were in business class so they were really nice. It wasn't as cramped as I thought it would be. I even got to sit next to the window with Aizawa next to me, and Hawks and Dabi in front of us.

The train ride was pretty calm, until Hawks pulled out a card game for us to play. He did step away with the other two for a couple minutes before the game started. I assumed that they made some sort of a bet because of how competitive they got over the simple card game. At the end of it, Aizawa won the first round and Dabi won the second one.

"Wow there really are a lot of people here." I said as we exited the train station. The beach was right in front of us. The crystal clear water sparkled under the light from the sun. The waves weren't very high, and all along the beach there were a ton of people.

"It might be hard to find a spot to relax on the beach." I sighed. "Don't worry Kitty." Aizawa said. "We already came up with a solution for that." "Don't tell her too much." Hawks said appearing behind me. "It will ruin the surprise. Now let's get a move on it." Hawks immediately picked me up and flew into the sky.

Aizawa and Dabi shouted as they ran after us. "Hawks....we should go back for them." I said after I could no longer see Dabi or Aizawa. "Come on Kid. I just wanted to spend some time alone with you." Hawks said. "Besides I was the one who put in the most work for planning this special trip. I'm also the one with the key." "Fine...But we have to stop and pick something up to surprise them."

Hawks landed near a café that was selling cakes. "This should work." He said. I looked at all the cakes before deciding on one that had chocolate and (insert your favorite flavor) pocky sticks. "How about this one?" I asked Hawks. "Looks good. Now hurry up before the other two beat us to our destination."

In just a few minutes we had arrived in front of a pretty big house that was right on the beach. "Wow, it's so beautiful." I told Hawks. "Did you rent this?" "Actually, it's a place that I own." He responded. "I have a few places for when I travel for work." He unlocked the door and gestured for me to enter ahead of him.

The place had a very cozy setup. I wanted to look around a bit, but I wanted to set the cake out in the kitchen first. I put out some cups by the cake and Hawks got out some drinks.

"What do you think your doing leaving us behind like that?" Dabi said as he and Aizawa entered the kitchen. They both had a dark aura around them, so I came up with something to save Hawks from becoming fried chicken. "Sorry, but I asked him to because I wanted to surprise you both." I said.

Fortunately, the mood seemed to have calmed down after that. "Don't forget that I won earlier." I overheard Aizawa say in the kitchen as I sat in the living room. "Yeah...yeah. Just stop rubbing it in." Hawks responded. "Still, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold back soon." "Me too. We should just all come out and tell y/n." Dabi said.

Their vagueness of things was really starting to get on my nerves. I decided to just go ahead and confront them. "What's up with you three?" I started. " You keep being so vague. You keep calling me by these pet names. You keep being so competitive w....."

"Okay I'm going to stop you right there before you run out of breath songbird." Hawks said. "It's not something that's easy to tell you." "You see Little Mouse, You have gained all of our attention." Dabi continued. "You've caused quite the problem between the four of us." Aizawa added. "Songbird...." "Little Mouse...." "Kitty...." "We adore you."

I was frozen for a few seconds because I could not believe that the three men in front of me just declared their fondness towards me. "But I..." I started. "Why?" "Why not?" Aizawa asked in return. "You're beautiful, kind, independent, and strong." "What kind of a man wouldn't be attracted to that kind of a woman." Hawks said.

My face was bright red, and I felt like hiding myself away from them in embarrassment. "All three of you though?" I asked. "Yep." Dabi said. "If you tried to get rid of even one of us, we might have to just tie you up." In my head I was completely freaking out, but I tried to remain calm on the outside, although I'm sure that it didn't work because of how the three looked at me.

#aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha x female reader

46 notes · View notes

leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

If he's lucky I'll let him join

Part 7: Yes. No. Maybe…

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out. This is the second last chapter, the finale piece will be out Wednesday evening.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) oral (male receiving), angst

Word Count: 4200

May 15

“Shhh baby don’t want them to hear,” he whispers. His fingers dig harshly into your hips only cause you to moan louder.

“Don’t worry man I got it,” Fred says, pulling your jaw down and shoving his dick inside your mouth. Your breath is pulled from your lungs and your moan get caught around him while he starts to thrust in, his salty precum landing on your tongue.

“Hey,” Steph greets, wrapping an arm around you. “Y/N right?” she questions, giving Fred a hug.

“Yeah,” you confirm, removing your shoes to add to the growing pile by the door.

“Come in, some people are out back but almost everyone is down the hall.”

Fred’s hand is on your back, gently steering you down the hall. The regular season ended and they have a few days off before the start of round 1 against the Canadians. With this time Mitch and Steph are hosting a barbeque for the team and their families. A chance for everyone to have some fun and take it easy before the playoffs start and everything gets crazy with games and practices.

You met a portion of the WAG’s last year, but it’s been over 16 months since you’ve seen them. And there is also a bunch of new players which means new face and names to learn. Though not everyone on the team has come out today. Fred brought you as his date, but Auston is here as well. It’s the first time you have been in the presence of both men without having sex or being able to touch, even flirt with Auston. But it’s only for a couple hours.

The sun is shining, temperature over 20°C, no wind and barely a single cloud in the sky. It’s an amazing day for early May. Auston has on simple navy t-shirt, his arms on full display. Tattooed biceps and the chain poking out under the hem of his shirt, backwards ball cap on his dark curls. He smiles upon seeing you, but continues on his conversation with Mitch and William.

You’re thankful for the laughter and music that disguises the moan slipping through your lips. It’s soft and subtle, something most people but wouldn’t pick up on, but Fred does. He wraps an arm around your waist, lips gently brushing against your forehead while he chuckles lightly.

“Want a drink skat,” he hums fingers gently playing with your belt loop. His hand slides down and he briefly and softly gives your ass a squeeze. “Frederik,” you scold into his chest trying to not draw attention.

“So that’s not okay, but you eye fucking Auston from across the room is,” he mumbles into your ear. Burying your face into his chest, you try to allow the heat from your cheeks to fade before you finally pull away.

Fred has known for almost a month about you and Auston. Apart from his comments when you were pinned between him and Auston’s door, he hasn’t said anything to you. You didn’t expect him to say much that night, but you thought he would bring it up at some point over the last 4 weeks.

After the threesome he seemed somewhat upset. The Leafs had a week at home, and he seemed somewhat distant. He didn’t call you on the Friday or Saturday, on the Sunday he sent a couple texts. When you saw him on Monday he apologized, said he had a setback in his recovery; that he thought he’d be back playing by that point and was frustrated by it, but everything seemed to be fine after that.

A few days the Leafs left on a ten day road trip out west. Fred joined the team, and true to his word Auston asked you to watch Felix. 10 days of walks, kisses and snuggles. Dog sitting also came with you sending him multiple pictures a day and even a few Facetimes, but you think those Facetimes were more an excuse for him to talk to you.

You contemplated keeping him forever, but reluctantly handed the leash back when they returned. Auston of course paid you with multiple orgasms; just the two of you. Since they returned from the road trip you have had a couple nights with just Auston, some with just Fred, and multiple threesomes. Apart from their road games you have spent 2 maybe 3 nights alone in your own bed. Every other night has been at one of their condos.

It’s an easy and fun night at Mitch’s.

It’s not a crazy party like the previous year. Everyone is drinking at a slower rate, spending more time on conversations than on party games. Mitch spends most of the afternoon over the barbecue, Steph busying around in house refilling drinks and setting out some food. There is a buzz as everyone eagerly awaits the playoffs. An excitement abound, the hope and potential that comes with the post season. But not just any post season, a Leafs – Canadians matchup.

It’s a good afternoon, and you’re enjoying yourself. But it would be better if Auston wasn’t shooting you winks from across the room, constantly looking at you over the rim of his glass. He is doing absolutely nothing, just existing, and you barely can contain yourself.

Every wink, every smirk, every breath he takes your panties dampen even more.

If that wasn’t enough Fred is never too far from you. When you’re talking to Steph he was beside Auston grinning at you. When grabbing some veggies and dip he softly trailed a finger over your forearm. Later when talking with Tessa and Morgan, he came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His cologne and soft touch, Auston’s lingering glances and boisterous laugh echoing through the room are enough to make your knees give out. The two of them getting you very excited for what is going to happen once you leave later tonight.

Walking up to the drink table you feel a body approach you and your body stiffens, hairs on the nape of your neck standing up. “Having fun y/n,” Auston mumbles in your ear.

“Mhm,” you respond lightly, trying to distract yourself but his woodsy cologne overtakes your senses.

“I like your dress,” he hums, reaching over you for some ice, even though there is an abundance in his glass already. Your breath hitches when his forearm ever so slightly grazes your breast; his lips curling up in the process. Glancing to your side you spot Fred, engaged in a conversation with Mitch but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

Tipping his glass to you, you almost fall over. Fumbling to set your drink down you mutter something about the bathroom. Stepping in the bathroom your entire body is hot and clammy. Knuckles go white from clenching the cool marble, staring down to the sink you take some uneasy breaths.

Trying to gather yourself you realize it’s a lost cause, you won’t get any relief until you leave. Until you get back to their building and they provide you with some. You and Fred have snuck away at a party before, but this is not the scene. That night involved a lot more alcohol, the guests were loud but you could barely hear them over the echoing music. Today is slower, calmer. People are more so enjoying their time together with the occasional drink.

And sneaking off with Auston would be even worse. People could notice your absence, but it adds the worry of people finding out your sleeping with both Fred and Auston. They might think it’s a polyamorous relationship, or they might judge you for your decision to have a threesome. Either way you don’t want to deal with the repercussions.

Just another couple hours. A couple hours making idle small talk and then you can ride Fred, while Auston’s dick is deep down your throat. Just a couple hours until the ache between your legs is filled. So you take a deep breath, throw some water on your face and step into the hall flattening the wrinkles on your dress.

Starting the trek down the hall you pass by an open bedroom and a large hand grips your forearm pulling you inside. Catching a glimpse of the tattoos you feel hot breath fan over your neck. His large body pressed up against you has the slick building between your legs.

“Auston,” you moan, craning your neck slightly, “we can’t. Not here.”

“You think you can dress like that baby girl and get away with it?”

It’s a relatively simple summer dress. White with thick 1” straps and a straight squared off neck. The bodice is tight, ending on your thigh with a simple floral design. “God I wanted to bury my cock in you since the second you walked through the door.”

Sucking hard on your exposed skin he kicks your legs apart, slowly drawing two fingers up the inside of your thigh. Starting above your knee, slipping under the hem of your dress until he slides them under your thin lace. “Oh baby I think you’ve wanted this all day too,” he groans coating it in your dampness.

Pressing your fabric to the side two fingers dance around your entrance, drawing circles on your clit. A whimper slips through your lips and you feel his fingers curl inside you. “Aus,” you groan, through a few thrusts of his digits, “there’s people.”

Your mind is swirling, bouncing between desire and reason. Your cheeks heat, from both the alcohol and the deviant act that looms ominously in the air. You know this is a terrible idea, there are fifty ways this goes wrong but his large frame pressed against yours, his mouth sucking and nipping your neck, fingers spreading you open more and more each thrust, you can’t say no.

“We gotta be quick,” you push his chest making him take a few steps back. Walking to the edge of the, you pull your dress up, fabric bunching at your waist.

A deep seeded chuckle fills the air, followed by his belt buckle opening and jeans being shoved down his thighs. Bending you over the end of the bed, his hands are on your hips his length sliding in your heat. Trying to contain your moans you bite down on your lower lip, the taste of copper flooding your mouth. But it doesn’t help.

“Ssh, baby girl, you gotta be quiet,” Auston chuckles softly against you after a particularly hard thrust, your hands grabbing a fist full of the duvet. “Wouldn’t want anyone to find out we’re in here, would we? Catch you with my cock buried deep in your pussy while Freddie is outside.”

“Oh fuck—” His thrust hits just right, pelvis perfectly angled against your g-spot. Your belly swells with heat and your eyes flutter shut, unable to keep them open for a second longer.

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” A voice mutters from a distance as the door closes. Your eyes go wide realizing Auston never locked the door, anybody could have wandered in.

“Y/N really wanted to get started,” Auston slows his hips but keeps his cock deep inside your walls, gently rolling his hips.

“Yeah, y/n,” Fred chuckles. When you turn your head slightly to look at him you see he has a dark grin plastered on his face. Walking towards you he winks and Auston digs his hands into your waist, pulling you until you are standing; your back against his chest.

“Is that true baby?” Fred tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “you couldn’t wait?”

Staring at the smug look on Fred’s face you get the idea this was planned by the two of them. Whether they planned it once they got here or days ago it all seems very convenient. Before you can focus too hard on it, Auston slowly pushes forward, not stopping until your ass hits his thighs. His hand begins to lightly trail across your stomach, grazing your nipple in the process. Biting your bottom lip you struggle to supress a moan, which only makes him laugh.

“I asked you a question baby” he repeats, fingers hovering dangerously close to your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp following a deep thrust. All you want to do is wipe that smug expression off his face, but before you can Auston’s mouth is on the back of your neck.

“Shit,” you moan, causing Fred to laugh after a particularly harsh thrust.

“Shhh baby don’t want them to hear,” Auston whispers. His fingers dig harshly into your hips only cause you to moan louder.

You have no time to react before both men are setting fast paces. Your nails find Fred’s thick thighs for stability trying not to gag as he hits the back of your throat. One of Auston’s hands snakes around to your clit, at the same time Fred is pulling your hair away from your face. You can feel your orgasm quickly approaching, the familiar tingling in your core.

“Fuck princess,” Auston grunts, beginning to get sloppy. Moaning around Fred’s length, he uses you for his need. Chasing his high both of their hips snap at the same time, pushing you closer to your high.

“Your mouth feels so good skat,” Fred groans as Auston’s thumb starts pressing harder into your sensitive bud seeking out your high. The sounds you’re making can only be described as pornographic. Forgetting there is a house full of people meters away, you fall victim to your pleasure.

Auston helps you to stand as Fred brings a towel and wipes his cum from your chin and chest. But before he can clean between your legs Auston swats his hand away. Gripping the fabric of your dress he pushes it down your sticky thighs. Lips ghosting over your ear his voice is dark as husky he groans, “I want you to think of me as you feel my cum drip down your legs while you talk to our friends.”

You shudder at the thought, but Fred’s lips are quickly on yours. The little bit of oxygen you had in your lungs is ripped from you, the kiss is full of passion and hunger. His hands trail down your body before he finds your hands, “ready?” he mumbles through a breath.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling against his lips.

Giving your hand a light squeeze he pulls you to the door, when it flings open, Steph and Audrey on the other side. They both blink staring at you, but it’s not until their eyes see Auston readjusting his pants behind you their jaws drop. Shifting their gaze between you and Fred and Auston they are trying to process if they actually are seeing it right.

“I am so sorry,” Steph blurts out, her cheeks going red. Stepping back they close it behind them and you can immediately hear them cackling on the other side.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice barely audible.

“Its fine,” Fred squeezes your hand, your heart rate building.

“WHAT?” you snap bringing your gaze to meet his. “How can you say –“

“Hey,” Auston calls out. Coming in front of you he tilts your head forcing you to stare are him. “It’s not a big deal, people have sex y/n.”

“But –“

“No, no buts,” he uses a thumb to wipe away some mascara that had run down your cheek. “You will be fine, everything will be fine. Now were gonna go back out there and-“

“I am NOT going back out there,” you interject.

“Yes we are, leaving will only be worse,” Fred says softly. “Everyone will talk the second we walk out the door.”

“We’ll stay for like an hour, and then go back. You can cuddle up with Felix. We’ll watch whatever shitty chick flick you want, do tequila shots, whatever you want after. But right now we have to go out there. We weren’t doing anything wrong, we have no reason to hide or be embarrassed.”

Mulling over his words you sigh knowing they aren’t going to budge, “okay.”

A half smile tugs on Auston’s lips and he leans in placing a soft but brief kiss on your lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip but he pulls away and heads out of the room first. Waiting a minute, allowing you time to compose yourself, Fred pulls you out of the room.

Walking down the hall you can hear Mitch laughing at something outside. Fred drapes an arm over your shoulders and gently presses his lips to your head, smiling down at you. Your body becomes numb, if it wasn’t for Fred tugging you outside you would be frozen in place. Feet unable to move.

Walking outside you feel like all eyes are on you. They aren’t, but it feels that way.

Auston, Will and Morgan are off to the side laughing about something. He shoots you a grin before continuing on with his conversation. Fred pulls you to one of the outside couches. Trying to put you at ease he slings one arm around your shoulder, you tucked tightly under his arm.

You can smell his overpriced cologne, you can feel his fingers gently trailing over your shoulder and you can hear his voice. But none of it pulls you out from your trance. Your walls feel like they are tightening around you and you are quickly losing oxygen.

“Y/N,” Fred squeezes your shoulder.

“Hmm?” you head snaps to see him.

“Mitch asked if you wanted a drink,” Fred smiles with a soft smile.

“Probably thirsty after your earlier activities,” you hear someone sneer, glancing to the side you see Steph, Audrey, Bianca, along with a few other WAGS. Some seem confused by the comment, but the vast majority have narrowed eyes and grins plastered on their faces.

“Uh no, I’m okay,” you lie. Your throat is dry, not from Fred’s cock slamming into the back of it, but from your anxiety building. You would love a drink, but what you really want is to leave. You just need to get away. It feels like everybody has eyes on you, you keep thinking you overhear people whispering your name. Fred carries on as if nothing happened, chatting with Mitch, laughing at something Zach said. Maybe it’s his way of downplaying it, or it’s his way of trying to reassure you, but it doesn’t work.

It’s a quiet drive, Auston and Fred chatting in the front. You melt into the backseat, staring aimlessly out the window. You don’t even recognize where you are until you are parked in the underground garage. The second the car stops you are gone, heading to the elevator.

Pressing the up button about fifty time the doors finally open and you step in, both men behind you. Staring to the ceiling you blink a few times, trying to suppress your tears.

“You coming?” Fred asks when the door opens to his floor.

“In a minute,” you sniffle. “I want to see Felix first.”

“Kay,” Fred smiles lightly. Taking a small step forward, he hesitantly leans down and places a warm kiss on your cheek before stepping off the elevator.

“I have couches,” Auston laughs seeing you on the floor. Felix curled between your legs as you slowly pet him, warm tears rolling down your cheeks. You don’t reply, continuing to slowly rub Felix’s fur. Hands grab your legs and he pulls you against his chest and making his way to the couch.

Placing you on the couch, he falls beside you, pulling you against him. That’s when it happens, the floodgates open. His grip tightens on you while your chest heaves as you dissolve into a git of tears. He tries to calm you, talking is a soothing tone in your ear. Choking on your tears, Auston just holds you, your hands clenching his shirt.

“Hey,” Auston smiles, handing you a steaming mug. You don’t know when you stopped crying or how long you were asleep for, but the night sky is flooding the room. Apart from the stove light and one lamp in the corner the entire room is dark, empty, a feeling you know too well.

“Thanks,” your voice cracks slightly. Sitting beside you, he pulls you up onto his lap, your head falling on his shoulder. Felix takes the opportunity to curl up beside you, he head beside your hand so you can slowly scratch his head.

“Don’t worry,” he finally says after a few minutes of silence. “They aren’t allowing anyone at the playoff games for now, so you won’t have to see them for a bit.”

“That doesn’t –“

“It does matter, they will forget about it by the next time you see them,” he runs his hand up and down his large sweater hanging off your frame. You want to believe him, but the pit in your stomach only gets bigger by the second. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a few deep breaths. Silence falling over you.

“What are you doing this summer?” He asks, trying to pull you from your stupor.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, not interested in his small talk. “I had a few interviews these past couple weeks, if I get it then the last 2 weeks of August I’ll be at the school planning. Spend some time with friends, and family maybe, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Sounds exciting,” he laughs.

“Mhm,” you agree. “You?”

“I’ll be in Arizona once the season ends, but hopefully that’s not for a while,” he replies. “But just hang out with friends, family. I think my mom wants to go on a family trip somewhere.”

“Nice,” you breathe out.

“Yeah,” he trails of slightly. “Maybe you could come down for a weekend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you dismiss. You are barely in the mood to talk, let alone make plans for two months from now, “if the border opens.”

“If not I have my Visa, I could come up we could go somewhere for a weekend. Whistler, Banff,” he suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“My sisters would love you,” he chuckles.

Silence once again falls on you. You assume Auston believes you are just upset from earlier, and you are. But mainly you are mulling over his offer. You don’t do that. You don’t go on dates. You aren’t dating. You have sex. Yes you cuddle, you talk, and you have sleepovers. You watch movies, and have dinner, you have even confided in him. But everything leads to sex.

“Why would your sisters love me?” you ask harshly. “Have you told them about me?”

“No,” he laughs. “Just that you’re awesome, I can’t see the not liking you.”

“But why would I meet them?” you bite, pushing off of him. Felix’s head pops up briefly from the commotion before he lies back down beside Auston. “Why would you introduce me to your family? Why would you introduce your family to someone you are just fucking?” you bite.

“Y/N seriously?” he questions, eyes grazing over your face while his body stiffens. “You’re not just someone I’m fucking, at least not to me. I don’t think you ever were someone I was just fucking.”

Standing up he grabs your hand closing the gap between your bodies. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this?” he questions softly. You can’t match his gaze, knowing you will crumble under it. You can’t process what he is saying because it’s a lot. You never thought about a relationship with Auston, maybe it had crossed your mind once, but you have been so caught up in your feelings for Fred, his feelings for you, that you never considered Auston.

“I uh-“ you bring a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “I gotta go,” you whisper. Pulling away you practically run to the door.

“He doesn’t want you,” he calls out as you reach the door. Letting go of the handle you turn around, Auston still in the middle of the living room, the exact spot you left him. “You’re going to see him? Fred?” he queries, sensing your next move. Your face contorts and you take a deep breath preparing for his next words.

“I know him, he’s not interested like that, not anymore,” Auston says lightly.

Anymore.

That words stings. When did Fred stop losing interest? Was it when you had the first threesome, or the second? When did he stop wanting you, and how didn’t you notice?

“You’re wrong,” you say yanking the door open and heading down the hall. He is wrong, it has to be. Needs to be.

66 notes · View notes

dxmmymxmmywrites · 4 years

Text

Old Flames

Tsunade Senju x F! reader smut

Warnings: cursing, angst at the beginning, oral sex, scissoring

Very excited to be writing for my bi-awakening queen Tsunade 🥰🥰🥰 love her so much, she needs more content AND appreciation

This is also less smutty than I usually do, so I may come back to this later when life allows to add more to the spicy bits

The sky is dark with the coming storm when you make your walk to the Hokage’s office. It’s the perfect environment to match your inner turmoil, broiling over with too many uncertainties for your liking.

You kept away as long as you could. And honestly, it probably wasn’t the best decision. Now you were just angry with yourself for not coming sooner and so sexually frustrated you could palpably feel your need aching between your legs.

You had done whatever you could in your early days as a Kunoichi. You had always been a little power hungry, but with a desire to actuate positive change in the leaf village. It had led you through to an established reputation as a feared ninja across the Shinobi nations, and along the way you had manage to leave some good behind you.

For some, it had to be hard to imagine you as a naive young woman in your youth. You were hardened by the world quickly, but it didn’t stop you from holding your favorite people very close to your heart.

The new Hokage happened to be one of them. Tsunade Senju.

The two of you had grown up with the same peers, and had observed each other from afar when you were placed in your Genin teams. When you did interact more often, you became quick friends and confidants— two hotheaded and insanely smart girls that were ready to encourage the other to take on the world.

It was a brighter time, before tragedy had shaped you both. Tsunade losing both her brother and promised lover nearly destroyed her, and you did what you could to comfort her when you could.

It became a new way to bond with her teammates, as you all took the time to check in on her, but it would shape your view of Tsunade most.

Despite everything, she still held so many qualities you admired despite losing her faith for some time. She was a damn hard worker, brilliant as ever, and had a kind soul once you got past her shell. It made you weak every time you thought about how you realized your feelings for the first time.

It was a classic case of someone falling head over heels for their best friend. With this of course came the companion cliche of not wanting to ruin your friendship by confessing your love in any way. So you kept your thoughts to yourself as long as you could.

And it was painful. But eventually, they came to a head at the worst possible time— when Tsunade was preparing to leave the village.

Although... the outcome initially was not as bad as it could have been.

You convinced her to delay her exodus for a week. That entire time, the two of you were nearly inseparable. And you fucked like raving animals.

It was a life changing event for you— enough to cement the fact that you, indeed, loved women. But most of all, you loved her.

At some point after an exhausting collection of rounds in bed, you had known your time with her was coming to an end. You couldn’t stop the years even if you tried, because in that moment life sucked and it wasn’t fucking fair that you couldn’t keep anything good in your life.

You had been so tired then, but you have vague memories of her holding you close, and her velvety lips kissing your tears away. It made her absence the next day all the more painful.

She had left at some point in the night when you fell asleep, thought she could never tell you how long she waited in the window before leaving you. You had woken up a love in her unlike any other— and it terrified her. She had lost enough people already in her life, so she followed what her heart told her was the best course of action; leave, before you’re broken again.

It hardened both of you emotionally. Everything was a threat, nothing worth letting down your walls for. While she abandoned her ninja way for years, you clung to yours with everything you had. It might have paid off, but what worth did it have when at home you sat by yourself, when your select companions were away?

You thought of her every night all the same. Sure, you could enjoy others from afar as you once did, but no one was her. No one could ever fill the void she did.

And little did you know, when you least expected it, she would come parading into your life again.

You hadn’t thought Jiraya would be successful in retrieving her, as cynical as it may sound. But then there she was, accepting her role as Hokage before the village in all her fame and glory like she was born to do it. And you had never been so proud, and had never wanted her so badly than how you did in that moment.

Even with the time apart, your reunion was not as horrendously awkward as it could have been. You greeted each other as old friends, and within the week you became one of the honored members of her council. No one bat an eye at this, because you had earned the right to the seat three times over. But Jiraya did grin when Tsunade announced your appointment.

And life went on. It wen on. And on. And on.

And it drove you insane.

Your friendship rekindled in a way you had not expected at all. And she never even mentioned anything regarding your week together before her disappearance.

It pissed you off how unbothered she appeared by it. You bickered like an old married couple and defended each other like the war heroes you were, but goddamn it did you want more validation than a fancy new job where you got to eyeball the woman you had been in love with for most of your life.

So onwards you went to the Hokage’s office. You would settle this, and you would settle it that night if it was the last thing you did.

If anyone notice your darker mood, they steered far out of your path as you travelled. It wasn’t as late as it could have been, so Tsunade would mostly likely still be at work in her office. Later in the day was usually when Shizune could successfully corner her to do paperwork anyway.

Inside the building, you begin to hear the echo of rain from outside.

You take the precaution of knocking on her door with the formal greeting, and she allows you in.

She smirks at you and prepare a remark— but you don’t let her start.

“We need to talk.”

Her expression becomes stern instantly. “What’s wrong? Any threatening reports?”

You cock your head at her, then shake your hands “No, no, this isn’t about work. This is personal.”

She couldn’t have looked more confused if she tried. However, she did remain silent, so you continued with your thoughts. And you locked eyes with her.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened when you left? At all? Or did it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes widened, but knowingness came to them. “I didn’t think you would—“

“Whatever you think I just need to hear the truth.”

“I think that—“

“And don’t bullshit me on feelings—“

“Damn it Y/N, shut up!” Tsunade rose from her desk, leaning over it. Her irritated look is intimidating, but you know better.

A quiet moment follows, but your voice betrays you. “I just need to know,” you admit, sounding more defeated than anyone— especially Tsunade— had probably ever heard you sound.

There’s a part of Tsunade that’s fuming at being interrupted so many times, undoubtedly. But some aspect of her fury is doused when she sees how dejected you look on the other side of her desk. She didn’t think she had ever seen you look so small, and like you wanted to curl into yourself.

She never wanted you to make yourself lesser around her. The thought of you being in pain when she fled...

Emotions were swirling within her like a maelstrom.

“Come here,” she commands. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.

Anyone else would have gotten a snide remark addressing you like that. But you walk until you’re directly in front of the desk, and she pushes her chair out of the way to stand before you.

When she stands fractions of an inch away from you, your heart rate quickens. The intensity of her expression is almost scalding. But it is not angry.

You open your mouth to speak again, but she breached the gap between you. Both of her hands grasp your face in such a mash of assertiveness and tenderness— but what knocks the breath from your lungs is the powerful kiss.

You wish you could say you responded immediately, but you were so shocked all you could do was tremble. Eventually, you felt her hands slink down to tenderly hold your neck as her tongue slipped past your lips.

Part of you wanted to fight her off. To get the last word in, or have the last snappy response. But you couldn’t fight how badly you wanted her to tighten the grip over your windpipe.

“I have never forgotten you,” she pants when gasping for air. “Not even once.”

She dives in for another kiss, and this time you have no regrets about giving in to it. Her hold around your neck tightens, and she’s upon you in an instant. Years upon years of tension and unsaid affection finally come crashing together in an emotional storm akin to the one outside Tsunade’s doors.

Just as she presses her chest to yours, her tongue slips into your mouth and you can’t help but to groan. However, you’re not one to give in so easily— and neither is she. Your sharp nails run over clothed back enough to give her goosebumps, and she reciprocates by sliding her hands into your hair to firmly tighten her grip. In the moment, it’s almost like neither of you need to breathe— your tongues dance in unison and all you can feel is the building heat in your gut as you melt into the other’s touch.

When you finally do part for air, she grins, devilishly.

“I see you still have a dirty mouth.”

You can’t help but turn red. “Shut up and get on the desk.”

That does catch her attention— it had been a while since anyone had the balls to mouth off to the Hokage. It was sexy as hell... and it made her recount all the reasons she fell for you in the first place.

She does step back to sit on the desk, and you follow after her just as she perches like a cat, eyeing you with ample amusement. Just as you set your hands beside her waist and lean in, she pulls at the wrap of her tunic and opens her strong legs.

“Are you going to stand there Y/N?” She purrs. “Or are you going to actually do something?”

It makes your blood boil, but you can’t help the excitement that comes from wrapping your arms around her again. She melts into your kiss the same way you did with hers, but your head starts to swim when you feel her legs wrap around your middle. Who in their right mind wouldn’t let their hands wander to glide up her thighs, listening to her moan, to firmly squeeze her love handles before returning the love to her ass?

You certainly were not going to waste the opportunity. And an opportunity you make it.

And despite being the one above her as you gently push her down against the desk, you melt into her kiss all the same. You throw one knee onto the desk to steady yourself enough to lovingly stroke her sides as you begin to nip marks into her neck.

It makes the grips her legs have on you all the more constricting. She rolls her hips upwards deliciously into yours, leaning to expose as much of her collarbone to you as possible. Any control at that point is abandoned— you nearly purr as you kiss and suck as much exposed skin as possible.

Who would have thought you would have the chance to hear her lovely voice again, much less her tantalizing moans.

“I think I may be one of the only people alive that can say I’ve knocked one of the Sanin on their backs,” you muster with confidence, and give her a sly grin.

There’s a slight glare from her, but she snorts all the same and chuckles. Tsunade raises forward and takes your lips with hers once more, pushing you to climb all the way on top or the desk.

Neither of you can fight the passion between you any longer. Your gasps and moans become louder, and the two of you begin to strip between feverish kisses and gropes. And not a single ounce of self control remains between you when Tsunade peels your underwear down your legs.

It’s like a volt of electricity goes through your body when she unabashedly spreads your legs and licks a stripe up your wet cunt. Her searing gaze locks with yours as she moves her mouth, and your eyes roll backwards when she plunges her tongue directly into your core.

It makes you squeal but she holds your thighs in place as you shake— and there was no way in hell you were getting out of her grasp. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Her tongue swivels inside you and laps at your insides, stoking every ounce of pleasure out of you that you could think to feel. She remains as unashamed as ever, relishing in the wet noises of your arousal as she begins to thumb your clit and slurp your building orgasm.

You chant her name over and over as she tastes you— ravished you— but in an instant you tap her three times with your pointer finger. Your old signal to stop during sex makes her pause, not just to respect your boundaries. It feels odd to remember an old habit again.

She looks to you for an answer, and you order a smile. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

She grins, but before Tsunade can counter your remark you offer her a hand to pull her up to you. Quickly, you wrap your legs around her middle and shift your weight, putting her beneath you (despite having to save her from nearly falling off the desk.)

Who knows how many people would give their all to be in your position, crawling over the fifth Hokage, trailing your tongue up from her center. Tsunade looks just as pleased, watching you navigate her skin with a hunger you’ve only ever seen her display at war.

And a hunger she proves when she locks her tongue with yours again.

Your bodies writhe against each other with the most tantalizing friction, and you can feel her legs begin to quiver. “Y/n,” she starts, and trails away.

There’s not much you can imagine she would want to say in this moment. “What?” You ask her.

And she smiles at you. The genuine smile you fell for over and over again in your youth, and the one that lingered in your head for years on end.

“I love you. But hurry it up.”

It’s as close to endearing as she would be willing to get, but it still makes the heat in your face reappear. And it ignites the final fuse in your cunt.

You reach to hold the back of her head gently, just as she licks your bottom lip. She practically purrs your name when you put one of your knees beside her waist, and ease to lay your other leg flat.

It’s like electricity across your skin when you finally get to move against her this way. The two of your bare, sloppy cunts squelching together as you both bucked into the other.

You had to touch her everywhere. You could feel the tingle in your spine, and the insatiable desire to lick her and massage her breasts. She was everything you had every wanted, and everything you had ever wanted to fight for.

The gods themselves would have to pry you away from her now.

#Tsunade #tsunade senju x reader #tsunade senju #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto smut #tsunade x reader smut #tsunade senju x reader smut #smut #lemon #dom reader #dom female reader #x reader #tsunade smut #tsunade lemon #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #tsunade senju x reader lemon

334 notes · View notes

vennilavee · 4 years

Text

poisoned apples

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au summary: you tell your parents about levi and they aren’t too happy. so you do the logical thing and break up with him. word count: 4039 warnings: blood, fighting, angst, oc’s family is very annoying (her family is against her and levi being together), levi is lowkey creepy for like 1% of this story, SMUT AT THE END (18+) a/n: another installment of perpendicular heavily inspired by the first gen experience and dating...enjoy. and ty to @bbygrgu for catching when i made dad a mafia boss by accident

The first time you had told Levi that your parents wouldn’t approve of him, he had shrugged it off. What did it matter, anyway? He’s never known you to care very much about what other people think.

But your parents’ approval was different.

You’ve always been the apple of their eye, their youngest princess who could and would do no wrong. Even when you kept your grades up in high school, when you were the picture perfect daughter- they didn’t know what you were up to. You had maintained your image of innocence until the moment you could move out for college.

They didn’t know what you were up to behind the scenes in college. And now, in graduate school.

They didn’t know that you smoked with your boyfriend, that your boyfriend had split knuckles from boxing more often than not. But they also don’t know that your boyfriend works two jobs to support his sick mother, that he’s in the top ten percent of his masters in computer science program and will surely have a job lined up after graduation.

They don’t know that you love him. They don’t know how much he loves you- how he’d walk the ends of the earth for you. How he’s your pillar, your person. They don’t know that despite the cold steel of his eyes, he has the biggest beating heart of anyone you know.

Because you haven’t told them. You know your parents better than anyone- that they’ll judge him before they know him.

You’ve been together officially for the better part of nearly a year. And officially, it’s been a little longer. Levi can tell when something’s on your mind by this point- from how your pout turns a little thoughtful and your eyes are far away.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and rubs your upper arm. “What is it?” Levi asks quietly.

“Huh?” You ask, breaking out of your reverie and turning your gaze towards him. A fading bruise sits on his jaw, and you thumb the area around it tenderly.

“You’re quiet today.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Levi raises his eyebrow at you, as if to wordlessly say “really?”

You’re silent for a few moments before sighing and leaning into his chest. “I think I want to tell my parents about you.”

Levi will never pressure you about things like that- he knows where he stands with you and you know where you stand with him. But he won’t deny the small upturn of his lips.

“I’ve already met your mom and your uncle,” You continue softly, “I think I’ll tell them.”

You’ve told Levi about your parents before- about how you had to secretly and cleverly maneuver through the invisible rules they had you under. How you still find trouble spreading your wings. How most of your childhood was mainly you being told not to bring trouble, that your parents had it hard as it was-

“Always knew it.”

“What did you know?” You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re naughty,” Levi smirks, “You put up this pretty princess persona. But I know you. You’re smart and vicious and not afraid to get dirty.”

“You sure? You know it’s nothin’ to me if you wanna wait,” Levi murmurs, nose in your hair.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I think it’s about time. I… want them to know you.

“I love you,” You say almost shyly and Levi drops a slow kiss to your lips in response.

And that’s that.

Needless to say, the next time you saw your parents a few weeks later you were planning on telling them about Levi. Nerves seized you- despite your attempts at convincing yourself that they’d be happy for you- that you’d found someone who loves you wholly and completely…. You can’t help but think that something is about to go wrong.

It’s over dinner that you’re planning on telling them. Your older brother and older sister are in town as well, and are helping Mom with setting the table as you wash the pots and pans.

This is where you grew up, and yet you’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

Once there are five plates of hot food and glasses of water in front of your parents and your siblings, you take a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you,” You say clearly, resisting the urge to pick at the hem of your brown corduroy skirt.

Four pairs of eyes turn to you curiously and expectantly.

“I’m seeing someone,” You say, your voice a little less confident than before. Mom gasps excitedly, bringing a moment of relief to your senses. Your siblings stare at you unnervingly, as if they can see right through you. Dad only looks at you with wide eyes.

You don’t know what to think.

“Tell us about them!” Mom says eagerly.

“Umm… well,” You stammer with heated cheeks, “He treats me well. We go to the same school, he’s doing a masters in computer science…”

That makes Mom and Dad’s eyes light up. You roll your eyes. Still, your siblings say nothing.

“Show me a picture,” Mom demands, stretching her hand out for your phone. Desperation for her approval clings to your heart like a synapse that never stopped surging.

“He looks oddly familiar…” Mom murmurs with narrowed eyes, “Do you know him? Where do I know him from...” She turns her head to your brother and sister.

They’ve never been particularly good at lying. Or rather, this time- they just didn’t want to.

“That’s the guy,” Your sister says, not meeting your eyes, “The one we saw her with. The one we told you is in a fight club-”

Your jaw drops, and no noise comes out of your throat. Horror lines your tongue and you have to squeeze your nails into your palms to stop panic from flooding your veins.

But your brother is shameless and always has been. He looks you dead in the face, something cruel spinning in his irises and says, “His name’s Levi. Ackerman. We saw-”

“So you’re spying on me now?” You hiss, the full weight of their actions not quite hitting you, “You both don’t have anything fuckin’ better to do?”

Mom gasps at your language. You scoff at her, throwing a nasty look her way. She deflates only slightly- because she’s never seen such a look on your face before.

“You’re our baby sister,” Your brother says, and you stand abruptly from the table, pointing an accusing finger at him. “We only want you safe.”

“I don’t need your concern!” You hiss at him, eyes narrowed to slits and flames licking your words.

“If it wasn’t for us, you’d be parading around with a washout who boxes illegally! You should be thanking us,” Your sister says, returning your fire.

“No,” You seethe as tears of frustration spring into your eyes, “He treats me well, he’s so good to me. He respects me, isn’t that what matters?”

Before anyone can counter you-

“Enough!” Dad bellows as he stands from his seat. The heat in your belly extinguishes, but only barely. You tear your blazing eyes away from your siblings and to your father, about to scream right back at him.

“If this is true,” Dad continues, “If this Levi boxes illegally-”

“He doesn’t have money either, Dad,” Your sister supplies.

“Oh my god,” You screech, “You’re such a-”

“If this is true, you won’t be seeing him anymore. I don’t want to hear about this again. And if you think about seeing him behind our backs… we’ll know. And you won’t be getting that tuition money for school anymore.”

You’ve never hated them as much as you did right at that moment.

Your heart hasn’t felt the same since you were home that weekend. It’s been a few days, and you haven’t reached out to Levi yet.

You need to break up with him, you know it. You won’t risk your education on him, no matter how awful it is for your parents to very much blackmail you with it.

It hurts that you don’t have their approval.

You’re delaying the inevitable. So when Levi shows up to your apartment on the following Wednesday with your dinner from your favorite Thai restaurant, you feel your heart shattering already.

“Hey, princess,” Levi says smoothly, dropping the food to the dining table and trying to pull you into his arms for a kiss. You turn your cheek at the last minute, not able to look him in the eye.

Levi immediately knows something is wrong- you’re never this silent. Your hands are pressed against his chest, almost holding him away from you.

In the last year and change that he’s known you, he’s never known you to reject his touch. Not like this.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asks, cradling your cheek. Your lips are parted, a shaky exhale expelling from them. Your eyes are a little red and puffy.

You’ve been crying. You’ve been crying and he had no idea.

“Levi,” You mumble in a small voice. As if you’re trying to memorize the way his name feels on your tongue.

“Princess,” Levi replies, worry beginning to creep into him.

“I told my parents about us,” You mumble, the confession adding to the tension of the room, “And my brother and sister.”

He stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I can’t… they said I can’t be with you. They said they won’t help me with school if I’m with you,” You mutter, feeling foolish as the words slip from your lips, “They don’t want me to be with you.”

Levi steps back from you exactly two steps and it feels like he’s plunged a knife into your chest. The loss of his touch echoes in the emptiness of your hands. You cross your arms across your chest unsurely. He stares at you in silence for a few deafening moments. Your ears might bleed from the silence.

“So what are you saying?” He finally asks after a minute.

“That I can’t be with you. I-I’m… I’m breaking up with you, Levi,” You finally muster out. Unshed tears sit in your eyes and Levi is too in love with you to resist comforting you when you’re this distressed- even if you’re breaking up with him and breaking his heart.

Levi gathers you in his arms and thumbs away your falling tears. You broke up with him, and he’s comforting you- the thought makes you choke out another sob.

You both stand like that for a few minutes, your tears staining his black coat. The silence between you both is palpable and suffocating.

The only viable option you see is letting him go. But you don’t want to, god, you don’t want to- not when this man is your other half. When he’s your best friend, your favorite person, not when he gives meaning to the word love.

Levi finally speaks.

“I won’t tell you what to do. But just know I’ll treat you right and you’ll never feel caged with me,” Levi murmurs, tendrils of adoration tinting his words, “I love you.”

He presses a long kiss to your forehead before leaving your apartment. His kiss feels unfamiliar, and when your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, a sobbing mess, you realize why-

It tasted like goodbye.

One month. Two month. Then three.

You’ve never been the girl helplessly in love. You’ve never been the girl who wouldn’t be able to get by without the reciprocated love from your lover. You’ve never been the type to spiral recklessly. You’ve always been fine after breakups and dates that had gone sideways.

You can live without Levi, but you don’t want to.

But loving and losing Levi hurts worse than any kind of pain. You see him everywhere on campus- a tuft of silky, black hair here, a glance of a similar looking backpack there… You even think you see him at the coffee shop that you met him at. If you were stronger, you’d avoid that coffee shop altogether. But you don’t want to let go of the memory of your first time meeting him, and you don’t want to let go of the opportunity to watch you both in your mind’s eye.

Everything reminds you of him. Everything brings tears to your eyes. You’re just a stupid girl in love with a man you can’t have.

You haven’t spoken to your siblings since that day, despite their many attempts to reach out to you. Texts, claiming that they were just looking out for you and that they loved you, went unanswered by you.

You can’t bear to speak to them. You think if you’d ever muster the courage to reach out to him again… You wonder what you might do. A small part of you hates that your family still has this grip over you- that you’re in love with a man who respects and loves you and protects you, and because they don’t approve- you can’t be with him.

You hate it. You hate that you succumbed to it. You hate that you hurt him- the heartbroken kiss he had given you has been replaying in your mind every day. Every night.

It still hurts as if it’s fresh, as if three months haven’t gone by since you broke up with him. You often wonder what Levi is doing-

After all, he hadn’t put up any type of fight for you. But you don’t allow those thoughts to get very far. It’s not like you had positioned it as something to discuss. You had made the final call and pulled the trigger on your relationship.

It was because of you. Was it worth it? To break up with him? For your family’s perceived happiness?

The questions leave a dull ache in your heart. You feel as if you’ve been spoiled with his love, and you had carelessly ripped his heart into shreds.

Today, you’re walking to one of your exams in your building and you swear you catch sight of Levi’s hair in the atrium of the building. But it’s gone as quick as it comes. And you head inside, putting thoughts of Levi behind you to focus on your exam.

Levi has been distracted for the last three months. Even if it doesn’t show- even if he’s doing spectacular in school, even if he’s on a new win streak in the boxing ring- his mind is almost always elsewhere.

His mind is always on you. What are you doing? Do you miss him? Is your relationship with your family improving? Is it worth it?

He’ll never tell you what to do, or what decisions to make. He only wants you to make a decision with no regrets, if that decision is truly what you want.

But damn, he wonders if you regret this decision. Levi has always been good at compartmentalizing- he lives by the same philosophy. Make a choice with no regrets. He’ll never regret following your lead and giving you what you want.

But what if you hadn’t wanted it? And what if… he hadn’t wanted it either?

Levi sees you more and more in the last month or so- showing up to places that you both used to frequent as a couple and places on campus. The coffee shop, some of your lecture hall buildings. He remains in the background, as a shadow. Only to catch a glimpse of you. Are you happy?

Your eyes are sullen, your smile dimmed. But he’s sure nobody can tell. Because you’re good at that- being the perfect princess.

He feels like a ghost in his own life. Is this living?

Levi has to move on. He loves you, his love for you still burns as bright as it did months ago. But he has to move on.

Erwin tells you that there’s a boxing match tonight. It’s the finals of whatever the equivalent of playoffs in the boxing world is-

“He’d like it if you were there,” Erwin says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“So he can tell me himself,” You say somewhat bitterly, “We’re not...together anymore.”

You choke.

“You and I both know he won’t tell you himself. Not when you broke up with him.”

“So it’s my fault then?” You exclaim. Erwin only watches you with wary, calm eyes.

“I’m only telling you what’s true. You don’t have to come, but he’d like it if you were there.”

Over the last few weeks, really since the first night without Levi, regret has been settling in your bones. Had you made the right decision? Was it worth it, to be this unhappy? Just to maintain harmony with your family? You think if you hadn’t rushed to break up with him, you could have talked about it. Levi has always been level-headed, almost too level-headed (like the way he had just accepted you breaking up with him).

You think you could conquer anything with Levi standing next to you.

You can’t stay away. So you’re in the stands of the ring, watching Levi warily. He looks good- he’s bulked up a little. But you can see the lines of weariness beneath his eyes.

You still ache for him. You are still his. Seeing him this close only solidifies what you already knew.

You are undisputedly his. And he is yours.

Watching him, throw punch after punch, and sidestep jab after jab… All for his mother. To support his family.

Tears well up in your eyes. You want to be part of his family. The epiphany hits you like a freight train- but it’s a welcome one.

You want to love him the way you know how. You want him to love you.

You wait in the locker room for him, anticipation surging up your spine as you pace around the locker room.

Erwin looks like he’s got a stick up his ass, and Levi doesn’t hesitate to mention it. Levi rolls his eyes and walks into the men’s locker room.

But nothing prepares him for the sight he sees in front of him.

It’s you.

It’s you, sitting on the bench, looking as pretty as ever. Gold hoops hang from your ears, a sunflower yellow blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned and a plum colored skirt hugs your hips.

You bite your bottom lip, tearing through your skin mercilessly. Your heart slams right out of your ribcage. His eyes are narrowed at you, drinking you in.

He’s a man dehydrated and you are his oasis.

Before you can whisper his name, he beats you to it. “Why are you here?” Levi asks sharply. His voice is flat, but you can hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice. Hurt masked by anger.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” You mutter, standing up from the bench. You keep your distance from him, feeling the iciness in his glare. “Erwin told me you were fighting today. Somethin’ about the playoffs. Just...wanted to see you.”

He quirks a thin eyebrow at you. “Wanted to see me three months later?”

You immediately get defensive, “It’s not like you were dying to see me, either.”

A flicker of annoyance, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just let me go- you could’ve… You could’ve fought for me! You just fuckin’ let me go,” You exclaim in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.

“Don’t- you picked your family,” Levi says harshly, “When we could’ve figured it out together, you chose to be alone. Don’t put that on me.”

“I didn’t know what else to do! I thought I was doing the right thing,” You hiss, tears falling down your cheeks openly now. You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings from Levi. “You just let me go. As if the last year meant nothing to you-”

“The last year meant nothing to me?” Levi asks, his voice perfectly level. He takes a few steps closer to you and your breath hitches.

Your head is spinning. He hasn’t been this close to you in months- and yet it feels like no time has passed.

“I love you,” Levi says quietly, “We would’ve figured it out. If the last year meant nothing to me then, this,” Levi darts out, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his bare left pec, “Wouldn’t be yours. It’s always yours, princess. But damn, baby. It hurt.”

“Levi,” Your voice is strangled, in pain, “I’m sorry, my love-”

“You made a choice,” Levi says pointedly, “Do you regret it?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “But I’m scared for us, for you-”

“We’ll figure it out,” Levi promises, cradling your face in his rough hands. He catches your stray tears with his thumb and presses his forehead to yours.

“I missed you,” You choke out with a sob, “So fuckin’ much. I’m sorry, I hurt you. I hurt us. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know we have so much to work through. But I love you, and I believe in you.”

“Let’s go home,” Levi mumbles, resisting the urge to drop kisses to your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“Will you let me love you,” Levi rasps, cupping your cheek as he rocks into you slowly. The head of his cock brushes against your walls prettily, as if no time has passed since the last time.

He belongs here, inside of you like this. You mold to him and he molds to you.

Levi squeezes your waist, dipping his head for a harsh kiss. He kisses you as if he’s loved you for a thousand years, and he’ll love you for a thousand more. He peppers soft kisses to your face and you moan into his touch, notes of his name escaping your lips.

“I love you,” Levi grunts as he rolls his hips into yours in movements of honey.

He’s not usually this talkative. But he knows you both need it. Levi sucks a mark, then another, over your tits and you tug your hands through his hair.

“Baby,” You whine, “Wanna give you everything...Love you, I love you, fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you-”

“You are everything,” Levi says, his nose in your neck, “Gonna give you everything, princess. Fuck-”

Levi nearly loses his rhythm at the gush of wetness that floods his cock. He groans and looks between you both, at the way his cock pushes into your wet pussy. This is where he belongs, in between your soft thighs.

You take Levi’s hand in between yours and squeeze. You think you could stay like this forever, with him moving so unhurriedly above you. His hips melting with yours, the broad expanse of his back pliant under your nails.

“Be mine again,” You beg, “Please, baby, be mine again-”

“Will you let me love you,” Levi asks again, gazing deep into your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” You moan, “Like that, baby- fuck, o-oh- Levi…” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you as your tits brush against his glistening chest. You see the moon gazing at you through his irises.

You want everything, and he is everything.

You’re boneless in his arms, tucked into his side with the sheets covering your bare body. A leg is thrown over his waist and you rub mindless circles over his chest as he holds you close. Not wanting to let you go.

Your breaths are soft against his warmed skin. Your eyes are still puffy, from crying but Levi always thinks you’re pretty.

And having you in his arms, in his bed, after three months is an added plus.

“I meant it,” You mumble sleepily, “I love you.”

“What about your family?” Levi asks, squeezing the hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know,” You say shakily, “I’m scared. But wanna figure it out with you. For you, it’s worth it. For you, everything is worth it.”

Levi only answers you with a soft kiss that makes your toes curl. He doesn’t know what tomorrow might bring, but he has you today. After this long, he has you for today.

And tomorrow will come, the sun and moon will rise separately, but you’ll get through it together.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @bbygrgu @alrightberries

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #aot x reader #snk x reader

259 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Of monsters and men fic

309 notes · View notes