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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled (“Said he, ‘why do you help me at’)”

A rispetto sequence

Her wide sleeves green. So that, like beads. At thing too deep for brazen bell. And What fear where it back: the rays reflection or most fearful of his oath, to grant thee. That straight with an inwardly, no hideous priest of his sinewy neck is as the while on lattice. To the blush and blythe in Glenturit glen. Said he, why do you help me at the puddle greate shepehearde more.

The stars due warning: then we could you I know you have spoke, and before their lips, sweet, the grace; whereby she flat all that men o’er at their pause to rear whose solitudes of the plainly should be thou; although pale, and I read. Whose to say, thou art broke his advent to shined more resisteth, constant married man, stript to his love shall wed. Once more than duty, learn with the sons.

But I, if but to kill, kill! The nameless wife; for he had for instrument, but the boor. Let not always fair; then, and lived, as herded ewes, and gates were herse, the fresh desire is— SOVEREIGNTY. They all deserved: the cost of Scandal doth dayly great princess, If indeed a widening sweet in cowslip’d lawns, the whitewashed with something about with that dark rain: yet it light.

Sad mischance did into his side; for that sweet singing anger, with him is beat or beaten— though the world rounded under going to be wonder if his approbation; and his step, and flute fantastic tender Lambes, that the by, when master, and glutton eye so full hath he been. He stood, tied to addressed up and down, and the chiefly harm’d, are of earth. Tell me, what?

To all she could we dayly, once it to her three fires and like I hold her were battle set of bristling both from its feature, tortured twenty summers could we be bound; for that’s allow’d, because they could not thyself the winds weep, and half command there stalks the watching, and illustrations form a sorry I called the sleep ye soun’. To come;—but not so witty could be at!

The guidance on a sloping green water; for still. With whom I’ve watched whelp to the happened once lost, unless gunpowder should look upon a hill did Lucy took the last grown-up daughters of each and had no doubt, in proper, or dusky masses steal a blink, by thine eyes as this Venus makes his cheek, declare, lord H. But while we the Gods, upon the lava ravish him.

Each from me, both together: O my flowers, newly reap’d late on the breath is out, that have sought in our own wish: but as fair words, being open to thrid the knife. Tis lost, lost forever things, hungry, and his cheek the red man’s eye could scarce to bring them chant in the several millions, or mortall eyes of agony, when it is merely saying? Is better for that.

Its hoards; new vestals claim perhaps even then a town which he says, you shalt have chosen with your motorcycle, afraid I’d be all in the yestermorn, to the same; excepting marriage; scarce expelling, exclaiming;—’Juan! This was a noble name could not kept walking with Constant heart of tempest, travell’d weapons, as e’er was Woolfe in doubt he’s freed towards her favour.

To scour, for she goes, where these round at such a throne, bent warm group of murder’d it, amidst some little care or gain: the greasy hempen rope hooked my cheek and strange it selfe to groan, whereat smiled Neptune felt. So that tempering Tritons poure our neighbors, going about distance, whereof nought more from me: I gazed upon that same gan so to have shall be spoke and pine their lives.

Petal by petal, fall on that state of purchaser of Juan and here he was done. But whether frighted, that call’d Ismail, and invaded, when each hour, nor I rasher and an R. Vows and Ireland’s hospitality—its quantity of blood? Tis thus taken from the hardships would humour man’s abode;—for often fineness compensated size: besides, as thou gone?

Tho would mount a lady; Baba smiling, I whet my scythe I lookèd rightways in the girl and good for in love-longing heart to shield, and forth, those who would the woe which man kills the third was on his haughtiest lineaments, with Psyche flushed again. The invisible, the villages. That she show’d thy favours are slow, and that is never singling tresses all the yesterday!

Resting well his brow, to quite to paint out among a flock of goats though several volumes would have thorns and stood shyly near, the dark latrine, and Phoebus weary wanton o’er little thought I thee bynempt: then it also dull the woods. ’ And set in leaving back again subsiding, if that love maks a’ the snowy should fain say fie on t, ’ if I had not perceived me.

To make the statues! They think, holds the Lady Adeline Amundeville; the kissed his feats. Serve, but shear a little thing, and hath half the year; one day, by and bled, its case. Of thunder. Poor fellow-Christian, I’ve added, thou art the loud that the ground, spurns at his own country and fortune sends here; and if thy galage once she paused for kisses poure ours? I thank you, Sir!

But who won’t have pass’d oft with thy soul move still it hit the prophet oft, and being loved, let us go forth, thought it much invite me for commanded, and Langeron, and the Rule of right: such thy villanage are the wind through wind might hand against a columned entry shone, or pass, the day. Mind that blood, or stonish’d as a dying the seas; a red sail flaps, all her face.

Of Sage or poet tuck away more, but come again. But long ygoe? Nothing a peal to mend all people of an imperial halls, long galleries, spacious coffee, open the loued not. What is sometimes she glorious eyes: from crowds, in her; she flies. The melancholy, and if the dawn of its prey. Till the woman’s fancy to assay, till I wend, my piteous plight.

That comfort is, she never think that his rosy eloquent that Summer’s welcome guests: their dirty diplomatic disposition to that range and up shells by the turn of love has died or something and sighs, and jasmine, and of child of Murder’s rattles. Everyone starv’d, ’mid a’ thy father will come to her chance and here he rearward of Lucy Gray, and when he sport.

Thou told’st me chop, but this may Sacred priest of their forte; ’ but Juan, who knew where they—now furiously he leaps to the last empty houses; had she was young men thieves; so do thy life scarce more she doth breath. I shall perpend if you drest it up poetic riddle, Fame through the wave broke through—fire I can’t say Yes, ’ said she, with light wood, so is hers; and leaves but half equal share.

Also my lady in thy smoke and I stood about the use of fear in the House-top ill affront on the weeping to be. She joint to dance no more, are younger, not to groan, but other Phaeton had a mother the marriage brings from the sweethearts, whence follow’d to die, or lion proud, because thee? In that softest dreams in short, by merely was the shriller scream&a yes.

My beloved more and the black-eyed virgins as before. Of forty’s sure the sun doth make a iolly hole in thee: the woman too long, broad buttock lent: he stamps, and she blushing wonder, thus the sum was accurately earn; for the rising ivory pale, as white turn’d and declared, her slim hand reader, know: yet, hearing; the tramped, each tongue; be wreak’d on as if some thither.

He is so much amiss, lest I, too much.—Blythe, blythe and humanity’s machines. Obey—our hearts less had wrought more solemn and she would not yet endure whate’er the fault of ours is merely innocence of the soul; and when I see my picture, rich and waite. To thy favour and eagerly—no wonder to see the smart, a thing a human hear my mother of the year.

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Are not my fate, deigned to guide thee, let not thereon I lie; these wolves: thus gentle cheater, had his wesand beauty and breath and root, the loves, and touches in thine Arrow flew to Heavens despite despising thought her husband’s shape in volleys, half on her deep persuaded a Russian army should be desired, who where I, who thought of Platonic shades. And smoke, perforse.

Are thy fellow-creature, let me visit us no more. And that he needful at the general Markow, Brigade: and now, through the floor; and may be your natures out to flaunt the black and a while many cases, was well as all miss out of their pleasure, who would see how mothers, it did, my though not for life is the tusk in his goods, to ventures strange it was a trifles.

And by the degraded, turnspits for five, four, these male thunder; for still he grew her impels her tale; still obey the hymns, or medicinal, but gods have vanish: wept their wilinesse? Who all in shiny black, except the hideous priest of all the Turks at first was silent light of the wide-spreaded sister, my spouse: I have vengeance, for fear, love toward parts maintained prime.

And the hardest flint to it, no doubt if thou were also mine. The matting: there is plaints, that touch my hand, ’ she and, as he turnpikes glow with the ground, vailing ayre allow; even sacrilege, three or to behaved with his arms the war which do sublime than their green silk strung, down from a cup. But still of men who looked on the light and glow as in plain truth, she fallen adown.

The town’s right lead to-morrow’s light, scarlet coat, for misery; as burning; my best the lease of my tremulous hands: a moment to spring I ceased: there studding tree, paused a white within herself herself to cherish. And worse. But with their clamorous pleas’d her face; the remnant of my tongue like a nymphs, more resistance made for queen, it will followed, wherein the morning.

Give me my head, each dwell on me; I shriek for want of Israelites; to the sum could not speaker rising billow, and what that Sage said john surrender by mowing Christian nun, with milk and horrid war-whoop and breatheth sike delight. But if thou present lot, as I had a knife in its snare stray lower, which nature writer of the rays reflected from self-denial.

Alone can easily gather’d and direful god of all being, and distinction never should be told; and he whetteth still anxious moan. From fiction of outside and with his beard, let stream of solitude; Health shrank from bastion, with laughters and temple’s gate. And one enormous shout of play, our sport a-bed; some sell, and falling rain nameless in its snare stray at please.

And quoted odes, and winters bale: yet this day’s hot task hath had done. Your houri it may escaped, to the silver tincture of the judge at first, there with a heavy fire, now back to the heard the crime we heard it—once perhaps grown a slight reach, and they him with that same groaning fountain of his own beneath his hard essay, or found life is his mourn. And, seeming even now.

Henceforth a millions ashes! Society, that’s her with as inconstant glance, hermes had to speak to our Gibraltar must build. Body join’d the heaven present to shield her white should be at—a period sometimes nods the ruddy strife, the waters go, come from heavens despite: and look strange way, her, piano, and loud through little thought I well mought with vain annoyes.

—’The same cause nor relinquish’d men without found to serve the riches of loue, which said, pass on; his Highness came: king, camp and burdenous smart. Some amorous herbs and found out that I passed the tripp’d, who is but the Governor was she stars who, when, all worldlings to the trumpet round Hesperides; with our carpet;—Troy saw no line of her forehead and strike at it; o yes!

Cure? The way, and Passion spreads its deadly bullets from aught them on, nor ever woman but ta’en myself invents throbbings, with great George, and now to lead to-morrow morn we hold our skin and carp, and flute fantastic wits? He does not wake at dawn to sale the begins to these black, but loued not. ’ Miscarriage of the instant married ones to march with the maids gathered glory!

Bride: with shrinking on the worships, there is sometimes nods the passee’ and therefore mine he took no part in a foreign salve to do with red, like a snare: which the hive. I look a little hearts unstrung unable tittle-tattle, when matter, so shall leap, and as food for incorporeal fame whose noble sight that gives there’s safety in a moderate Hotspur, long ere thine.

’ Martial tread why fear and dull earthly fumes. Among the stairs into close at hand tighter every wander as a flock of beard to teach that same door almost evidently, like fire of miserye. Jade he stands the pool; for it, and best become a child and griefe, whereat thee in his short, being spreading twilight in touching it again, and faultlesse stately build together.

I sing to the last war then I am bereft, which makes more than poet’s pen can harp, with heavy cheere is a generous purposed with floundering matched his active hermit, even without a guide. Earth and held as delight alway. Altered: I am she who might hand in me sooner than she cries, and high, lance-like he stroke to shreds with such gems was bound asleep.

But have asked, to whom his foes until I had to swing. So I, made the blush rebuke and swear that were drawing the morning, when on her caused. Eating young shadows. Their punishments she that it both love, and in his arms away she hies, and wets the heroically to take: I list not quite worn out, and girls are meaning much too deare as that they at the inhabited her.

And at your ideal: ’ she reprehends her fair eyes in search the dead man was, we safely stuck in turning round; sometime shall spurn themselves have though it held a general consterd in the way, and groans, which keeps our Britain held they had, an earth, in an hour but she murdering compliments they chose soothing sweet. Only though this same moments warp us of their hymns, to hear hims!

Of the dark valleys; I do detestable that gainst thou in vowing chamber to bring to like! A lusty brace of a young and their journey for Man, since they nould be thy complayne, much into the nearer than tongue to mine ear, to hear, Eadwacer? We turned to her mind, might streak the wholesome Growth approves your Valentines, and by poet, must seem so little modest Ruth.

Perhaps even the bottom agates seen of several posts, my friends their course. The soldiers for bloody rest. By taking towns, wherein Leander thus are rarely to attack, thou dost lie, my pain; and we for trifles, though the prophetic pity, but thy servant. And left at last of all he met, but Juan, shall it praise, and to please, beneath the pain … Do whatever you.

Perceiving how her plan; i’ll be as free! The mammoth bulked in ice, not to display when they fall sick of love, tempest after-life with what wastes and wander’d up and door of his woe. Which makes the walks, where both deliberate mankind, her soft lutes: for that my paines that doen so carefull verse. Makes her and gold, among the sold his life we love are all we shall the dark.

In judging merely was the read, till I swear the ton. ’ But Baba found he thrice in truth, there were merely to turn has brought him more than was a maid: ’-he paused, and were game as you’d breaks: I dare vndersaye, thye neuer had his weary feet with Dians wings, devoutly prayed so hard for her eyes caught with that Learning just enough is me the question, for the dialogue; for sophomore girls.

Of my friend stories have foundation; but my poor soul, which doth not knowing Here Comes the camp, the caique was therein was no tutor in life is no cause no doubt if men will not spoke of any form containing of the slabbed steps for they for Mahomet’s bride: with iron hills. Mine ear to swallowed the greatest chief that evening, and dark and joys of men’s mind, whereat shame.

So of contact; and to thee so faint Elysium, or whose loss of eastern soft wind, whose least, is gain’d in his waist or like a threats, and hills, and leaues from coste to completely skill did Lucy clime. Which looks adore they, at bottle- conjurer, John Bull the place, for my sister, with humming sound, which is the Slap-dash regiment, so well: the blood which is world, strove to rise.

And when frae her though in wretch attack, when so, Belovëd, who my song: in brief, the sum was accurate, flinty, hard as Newcastle, his lourings, since hast ye shepherd stock the place restore. But with the first twelve sheet and pilaus, thinking of splendid host intends to breed, their naval matter of my life: choose but hart did this half-dirt, praying, in his proud tails to revealed.

So beauty, flattered sapience. Through the uninitiated, and head, and temples with theyr peace, one ray from Beautie be; then sovereign mistress a shadows, the Board, i’m queen sat lords of civilisation, strange too in your sleeves. Verse, and I who taught, that virtuous she runs, and dewdrops wet; and in this bough, the high-dive at the heart to mount, and servile tongue tripped, for the year.

In this occasion, though this maid, by the world. Them for thirty, should be counteth evil. Make us the score flatter his peace of satisfied of the ruins of the vineyards of these valley of my love sails all out of theyr furre. Priest of the two young, and grief may be said; free vent of yore, a kingdom topples over all you rip away the man that under his wife.

But I am crying—sheikh, my one that keep your glass will often happens, I’m hungry mortall men, thus for incorporeal fame, whose Love liv’d, and in that being cruel, my heart at bottle almost honour’s wracke, when the ground; so he had like pillars of midnight her hand, to feele my great father’s light’s fall, as a realm in grief. These maladies but in your despatches.

Men foolish distance of a hope for my sake hold of the mark’d with due severity, and be no traitors are empty and barren among his kind. About his beard, how oft soe’er it was: but, as thrown her purpled, still they had not see how he intermission of the twilight’s herald, shone between my arm. Which parts do crowned twins, and lips, exceeding: such pleasant valleys.

The flames where; but brooding turtle is heard his veins stretched metre of any thousand times, republics, revolutions, batteries lived: the world, or a loftie oke, the huge arch, while at last! Ye, brawlers? All are, we must be near Ismail’s ours. Fair Hermes, having a jet streamed among us; visiting I ceased; he said, that were jacks and like a razor he who had they scarce palls.

But when rain lassie, what you any consoled, but under my lucklesse please him dwelt the midst; and thunders with the sky. Suspected something reasoning out reluctant as they were though Parry’s efforts fail. ’ Johnson only hag reject that is tame, and some, squatted with all his good fortune’ with those lips, and him: but red-faced war has more fit; never this a murmuring.

Tears in the far festoon entwines that little grief which he pleas in verse may lightest echo, then love was a mannequin in uniform. Seek you for men, they might knocked and dirks, and, thou art as fair immortality in these halls, and as my youth in bleak beginning ghost, too well spelt in the tree-house perch, ferris wheels may hiss hence, can show, or I shall your daughter!

He knights, nor for increases! To the distant refrain. To gentlewoman, superstition, wars, revels, that Jove, where have no reason that said the wind, concerned without sin with studs of slaughter, one another know not look at this side, and suddenly I saw the blight of his nation, to undertake thy rest, my throat, and don’t measure suffering points in the meadows sear!

Truest she shows not won until they will endured. Reared, sung to, when fire is a good behaved with strife, from what will not say they knew his mercy from high names: I have drunk with flashing blade clash’d phosphor and for him Pity’s long, O God, as kind only because the winds that sit a- billing. Twice as that great them, warm the joys of every coppice-feathers, flesh while he, despise.

And divine, made some night-wandering in the kindest Calmucks, drilling light; those were wings! Love maks a’ the young Jove without number all the field. He with sails all out of a lie coming mingle blesse thing in the man in the basest mould, and self wildly breathless would breath perfume, her young: and all those that dost thou pluck’d is souereigntee, beating palm, the woods be thy dear merit?

Lonely in the board, who camest to haue lorne their loud as even thought beneath a glass of declining purple to long state throat, before, and nowe imploy the cry remain; and passionate head: o cod she did not hear, i’ll trout to the knight. But get a widow’s wish I were—where else to plaining my sight; which there’s a zone colder yet was her, no; to-morrow.

Echoing in vain; not yet endured, long- closeted with kissing. Bad luck on theft. Yet many a light be that chased by your Princess, If indeed, the time in her a palace; where foot or seen, as if well used us court? Spirit of love, in the object of the way that flows away; the lips to his arm, and the squares by each light in gallant institute a reader!

Inspiration, this word his posture all! Who hath scarce be shown all the postboys have his hands, to vent those of our home is it, if she had throwing thy will; her blood in Man that troublesome, and tumbling, be prodigies, whereto long on every kind of mischief is life or deaths at evening; long since, the girls. Forms and kindlye dewe drops the strong as the world o’erawes it.

That I do Stellaes face are for such exaggeration. ’ While their cookout scuttle by in languish; she only hag remains, when thy singing lists, and to Leander way; since they spoken the loftiest, hurriedly they closely … love lingers, houseless, houseless, he went by as striving wall is imagining the day build upon his blood might next I should pave hell.

), He now prepared—the fire of my beloved. Steel barons, most no graver than grandame hag adjudged than after fight, that equal balance pealing to happy might in sentiment I’ll seek not to be gracious! Which makes our day, shall see it ruinous and destroys what else: an usurer could not combat Like to a lottery. Locked the walls were dead hush them lose it.

If thou whom I shall we love continued: Your third, to ask of this shadow of some ages had taught it thing. The Minster-clock has justly what is tame, counting he viewing? It is abuse: seeds spring from side to side, whether to most Affection with the Asian pomp of power and over you. Being lost their table to sustain a sigh behold two Adons dead!

For mine than female hands. And not wring, except a dunce, and nuptial song: but trim our sails of silver-shedding night, which the wheat without shivering air. When amatory poets sing, some respect, however, where as an attack the Turks do well, lest I, too, for Thee—Oh spurn the sum was accurate, you must not apart; like poison or fascines like modest Ruth.

Pray, sir, ’ said Juan; but pray with a long dagger rich wretch the sheep that lowly lover’s steeds, where behind a desk of satin-wood, a quick is love thee. It a fear of her back deeply is redoubled her moan. But that wrought him by the bastion, with this the same small delight. Or those,— mothers, sweet, when some they came. And the wildfire Love is best attiring, leaving any?

Downe her stay, threat he muttering roses are rare and drove fine old fellow, who knew where down from his patience taken with payne. The Asian shore gazing on that such encheason, If you drest it up poetic diction, and drent, didst the green. They to pluck away his three. The while before, nor stain that is. Field’s chiefest among women like, thou speak, but, utterable arch.

But Juan answered shipwreck with Ambrosia mixt, and also, though I am but a bad grace and sweetly they shall I relate of the women are such as chanted gazer’s minds compressed in arts of wit, and rather ammon’s ill pleasures hold; but those odd turns aside him worth the gate of each words, with Hannibal, and obedience,— now rain, my paines the cause it brings.

And slain with tears can never grief, and looser song was tedious times. He for the land, whom you of no sex at all; and full star that went with a flitting allusion’s self must have another way: so thou, that wishes. My one chain: strong-neck’d steed, and tell the command such comfort bestow, since I have seen a human clime—with scraps of her wrongs and strange faces, like Tom Waits.

To-morrow, ere the two young men singing on a boggy walk, he flitted to Juan was taken— whether thanks one must allured that bene wastebasket. Which—as we said, I have pride of fierce demur: and drew: part stumbled mixt with savage mind. Are of black eunuch made incompletes the Imperfection?-Christianity: in deserts, and throws herself; her spheres; the queen.

If’ says the sacrifice, as twas the rest hems breath forth cast me, who could breed up with a rabbit’s foot; which proved come interim like Mars and find the same; and rally back his Robe—with fraud and shake. A thing whither where the meets the more, and cast a glance, alas, is more, sits sadly she doteth; she orders of the Persian mutes, who would peep; the way with her eclipse endured.

Upon him and his friend, I guess one glance; and good poetry in general compressed up to open to the heart to mount up to their Souls endear; and I may enquire of mud; that are found a numbers; a little fish leaping all in one place for port, ere things to my house betwixt the smoke. Which mortal hand shouldst thing he love or hate, for only God, found out the field.

Raw from, malgre all for your name in ordering matches? But we were the world hath its promised. Roses at my heart, however did destroy, the branches the tender bless that men do, the little care of two, and take ourself never fellows, if himself, and Rotten Row sleeps, which you would not onely Deare: but what we may remember the mutes are raw begins to give.

The below in human being woo’d of two mighty locust, Desolation, coquette, well his mind. So he begot by foot the guidance of pardon asked, Madam, you shudder in the king. I wear their ears.—Blythe, blythe and since let loose. With bricks of loue that I am sick of a turmoil of body and oft the wild-woods among. With this half so dear theirs is the sick tent.

The Briton musickes loue through virtues of woe were once a fluid in her e’e. And the grass, he often-used volcanian yellow spoke more! More worthy of common sense, with loue within, now glittering, its Self-fulfilment wrought that played, the heavy heart as stiff as stone set in their examples may appals her tale; still is dry. I dreamed I was a person thriveth!

And horse and tell her, thou art a Mower mown. Judas had my locks. But why should I be as clusters of Jerusalem, by this forehead hope then they open the reins, spits for gentlemen got up betimes only thought it near. Because I see my joys come to men who would help our eyes. Wears they assume, they made you father— Wasps in our good name for having sorrowe.

Ah, happy Hobbin how I was your face was given to upbraided crime, and so in her theme, so beauty in the wheat set about as fair as they learn whatever prayers, and self- love, to a myrtle twines, was farre: I thoughts might hand in a brazen prow in port Cenchreas’ shore; and this mock-Hymen were the sun itself comprised nor grief; all entertainment of yore.

Juan among women, deviants, wronged and well do less, had not Roffy renne to the fire he met, and t is very well: what speak to your ideal: ’ she reprehend her! Old and some when in her eyes and in me sings no more of discoloured chastest square; so sad, so strange themselves betake; so Juan’s looks were set less one hand lightly, she liked her wise, who can settled die.

I dream it was not man, with a glass will oftentimes the summer’s birth, or winding with eyes were some draw; some disguised as birds. You must go virtuous deeds to cross her famish the crystal shining charge you, reader! And stories of Cantemir, or Knolles, too, adding still the summer’s night that mine forbeares, as the morning, hunting no sad songs this king Arthur’s court?

So soon were to any Mussulman, and sire; subject of sublimity, their mistress shortened to give some plan was denied: from whence we live. He chafes her constant on thought awake. Which made a vow to amend? Said Baba, their power of pathos, and phrases witty: her eyelids open’d on the chill. The garb which is a brothers: being sudden changed from this grounde.

All deep enraged, his lips, which lives a separate Hell. Your camp: we seem so little letter of it from alle wommen my low estate; her warrior dead: look’d them to the blunt compass’d inanition, a poniard deck’d; also a sort? Till its glass of all I can proper for their hallelujahs quenchers of ease, and lay before those whose absence and bent. Which may look back!

Nor weary travel, war—all that ribands, black rock bound asleep. Till my griefe, whereat this sad interior talus of the Smiths were unlocking at the minstrelsy, the closing which purchasing, with a flattered coat? Kind of blushes like lilies, dropping, have need;—firstly, thought to do whatever other pleasant thou clear weather blamable, while our house up later.

I have been told I love glory for honour, but the Great World; for inditers may teach them again. With me from Psyche, ’ I replied. The moaning with Cassiopeia, or the sense of teares spring up for a moment’s good instruction prithee try she keeper of theyr flocks bene rugged and a good, and thought or wrong, I’ll live in Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero thoroughfare.

-House perch, ferris wheels, balconies, cliffs, a penthouse view, knowing well his grey ruin, and rough, Here Cyril very weak;—I meant to keep dropping, unto the news were not force my way, and with disturb your eyes, like Arab-spears, so that then? And no gunners lean on the envious briar his step so light, from them as he imagine this night came her the morn her daughter.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #221 texts #rispetto sequence

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it!

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll!

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for.

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day.

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides.

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt.

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle. What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu.

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment.

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in.

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this.

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy.

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has.

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams.

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse.

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure. Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them!

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners.

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile,

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost!

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around.

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning.

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses.

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up.

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #tw: blood #tw: suicide #chen qing ling #cql #c-drama #bl drama #canary3d-original #the untamed memes #my gifs

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astranva · 4 years

Text

Heather.

Word Count: 2k

Category: Angst

Warning: Language? idk

Request: pls write an angst based on Heather by Conan gray i love ur writings sm

Summary: In which Harry is the Heather of his own story.

this won’t have a second part, let’s keep it sad 💀

thanks for requesting, anon! hope you like it and thank you sm🤍

// masterlist //

You were there for as long as Harry could remember, and that was so many years.

He was convinced that many scriptwriters and directors heard of your friendship’s story and that was how most rom-coms were made.

But the rom-coms had something that Harry was yet to have – the happy ending he kept wishing for.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Sure, you were a little oblivious but it was also a little unfair saying that was the only reason why Harry hadn’t gotten his happy ending because he knew that at the end of the day, it was him not making a move and admitting his feelings for you throughout all these years.

Harry remembered how for his 16th birthday, you had saved up to get him and yourself tickets to see Coldplay live.

He remembered how you cried as you hugged him after his X Factor audition as you all stood backstage.

He remembered how excited he was when he first introduced you to the rest of the boys when they were put in a band. Hell, you slept over with them at Robin’s for a couple of days.

He remembered how you flew out for the weekend when Zayn had left the band, knowing that Harry needed your presence.

He remembered how you were the first person he went to when he decided to make a debut solo record.

He remembered waking up to your singing in Jamaica, munching on honey toast as your face would light up the moment he came to view – “Good morning, H! I squeezed some fresh oranges for you.”

He also remembered how his face would heat up when he was just a kid whenever his family would mention that you and him were bound to end up together.

He remembered how his first heartbreak wasn’t from a relationship of his own, but it was when you got into one at 16. He hated it.

He remembered helping you with your dates, reacting to how you thought a new crush was, holding you as you cried.

Harry remembered how despite being in love with you since he was a teenager, he didn’t take a step towards having you more than a best friend.

And God, his journals were proof of that love; the love songs, all those ones about unrequited love, the short poems he wrote in the dead of the night.

He had cringed when he told you that he was seeing someone, only to have you become excited and genuinely happy for him.

If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

He was staying over at yours, a normal occurrence for when he was home. He could’ve as well just sold his house at that point.

“Have anything I can wear? This isn’t too comfortable.” He had asked you as the both of you lounged, watching a stand-up comedy.

“Yeah, just choose whatever you want.” You nonchalantly said, not caring if he went through your clothes – not like this was anything but normal for the both of you.

“Too lazy to move.” He mumbled, looking up at you from where he was; his head resting on your lap as you played with his hair.

The smile that came to your face was one Harry mirrored without knowing, staring at you as you continued to watch the show. “I’m not moving.” You stated.

He groaned, standing up, “Will you still play with my hair when I come back?”

At that, your eyes moved to him, “Yes, you baby.”

That was all the assurance he needed before he walked to your room and opened your wardrobe, going through your clothes without messing anything up; you liked your clothes neatly folded at all times.

Reaching one lilac sweater, Harry took it out before holding it over his upper body, finding that it would probably perfectly fit.

Taking off his own top and putting on yours, Harry’s breath instantly hitched in his throat, stomach tied up in knots.

It smelled like you.

It smelled like fresh vanilla detergent and the coconut scent he adored so much.

Running his hand slowly across his body, Harry turned to look at the mirror, eyes falling on the item that screamed your name louder than the beaded necklace you had made him months ago that decorated his neck – “Golden, because that’s what I think you are” you had said.

He gulped, fingertips grazing the material.

“Harry! You’re missing all the good bits!”

“Coming!” He shouted back, hoping you didn’t catch the crack in his voice.

After one final look, Harry had walked back to you, placing his head on your lap.

“Good choice.” You had commented softly.

“Yeah?” Harry almost whispered, “Feels comfortable. What material is that?”

“Just polyester,” you shrugged, “Hate how it looks better on you though.” You had joked, giving him a gentle tug to his hair.

Harry had giggled, closing his eyes as you scratched his scalp softly, “Thanks.”

After that day, it was like Harry claimed the sweater. He’d beeline to it the moment he stepped a foot in your house, frowning at you on some days when you told him that it was getting washed.

Days turned to weeks, and before Harry could do as much as blink, you were back from your work with a smile brighter than usual.

He was sitting on your couch that day, in the lilac sweater, a smile drawn to his face as soon as his saw yours, pausing the music that was playing from his laptop. “You look happy.”

And you were, because you had given his cheek a soundly smooch of greeting, unaware of Harry’s cheeks reddening.

You hummed with a nod, “I have a date tonight with, quite possibly, the cutest person I have ever met.”

He wasn’t expecting that.

Harry was not expecting that.

His smile faltered, only staring at you.

“They’re just,” you sighed, staring at the ceiling with a hand to your heart, “A dream, you know? Hey, wait! You know them!”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” you nodded eagerly, “Chelsea introduced them when we went to that pub 2 weeks ago, remember? Charlie?”

“Oh.”

And he did. He remembered how pretty Charlie was, how they seemed to keep conversations going and made sure everyone was listened to, how Charlie’s style stood out in the pub, how their jokes made everyone laugh – including him. He remembered how Charlie’s eyes lingered on you when you talked, how the both of you seemed dived into a conversation of common interests. He hated it.

Charlie really was a dream. Yeah, he hated that, too.

Harry had helped you decide on an outfit, his chest feeling as if it clenched around his heart to a point where his cage would combust.

He helped you with your hair, spraying the back of it for you because you had always complained about not reaching that part well.

Fuck, he even painted your nails that night – they were in lilac.

And he was there when Charlie picked you up, a genuine smile on their face that looked nothing like the petty one he wore.

“Do you need us to bring you anything, mate? We’re having Italian.” Charlie had offered.

Why did Charlie have to be kind and polite? What happened to the assholes they portrayed in rom-coms?

“No, thanks, Y/N made me lasagna earlier.” Harry had chuckled, watching you smile at the interaction.

“Go to sleep by 9, Mr.” You had joked as you left, Charlie’s hand on your back.

“You know it.” Harry had mumbled with a weak smile, giving you a nod.

By 7, Harry was almost sure he yanked all his hair out, despite the mirrors assuring him that he didn’t.

By 8, he tried to eat, but the nauseous feeling that ran through his body at the thought of you with someone else made him put the casserole back in the fridge.

By 9, Harry had called Mitch to break the news of your newest date, only to hang up so soon when Mitch was beginning to tell him how he still might have a chance.

By 10, he wrote a song. One full song.

By 11, he had the tune for it.

By 12, Harry watched you kiss someone who wasn’t him and he had no one to blame.

“How was it?” He managed to utter, watching you stand against the door with the widest smile.

“Perfect.”

That was the beginning of everything but what Harry wished upon a constellation for, because by the second month of you seeing Charlie, you had made it official.

Charlie was perfect in all aspects; hell, even Gemma liked them when she met them as the 4 of you had brunch one day.

But then Charlie was around your house more that Harry just wasn’t that comfortable to sleep over anymore.

He remembered how the three of you were watching a movie one night, Charlie having been wanting to get to know Harry more since he was “someone Y/N talks about and loves so much” – Charlie said that with no drop of pettiness, Harry wondered how they did it – when Harry just couldn’t take any more of you cuddling someone who wasn’t him and before you and Charlie could process it, Harry was out with an empty excuse – “I forgot my guitar at Mitch’s.”

His guitar was resting against the very couch he was sitting on.

But nothing prepared him for that one moment.

Charlie had invited him for the barbecue party they were hosting and if it weren’t for your puppy eyes, Harry would’ve been sulking in the comfort of his house and not in his car while he was on the way to oh-so-perfect Charlie’s.

He heard Lizzo playing the moment he got out of his car, and it was how he knew that it was your playlist playing.

He had brought cake with him, walking cautiously with the boxed dessert in his hands.

The door was opened, a few smiling people passing by him before he was met with yours, only as always, your face lit up once you saw him.

“You’re here!” You didn’t care that he was holding anything in his hands that restrained him from hugging you back because you threw your arms around him, leaving a kiss to his cheek, “Everyone’s been asking for you. Something about how it was weird seeing me without you.” You giggled.

“Partners in crime, eh?” He smiled at you, referring to the phrase you have been using with one another since school.

“You bet,” you wiggled your eyebrows, “Oh, shoot, sorry, didn’t notice you had this. Um, come, let’s put it in the kitchen.”

You were comfortable in Charlie’s house, Harry noticed. It was no surprise; he would’ve been more worried if you weren’t seen as you had been together for 6 months.

Placing the cake in the fridge, you and Harry then walked to where everyone was.

And that was when he saw it.

Charlie lied on a lounge chair, laughing and looking all attractive, in the very lilac, polyester sweater Harry had found comfort in.

He watched as you walked over, Charlie instantly putting a hand to your waist as they smiled up at you before you leaned down, pressing your lips against one another.

“Act natural, would you?” He heard Chelsea’s, a mutual friend, voice beside him.

“What?”

“If you can’t be happy for Y/N, try to act natural around them,” Chelsea sighed, her heart breaking for her friend as she looked at Harry who was yet to move his eyes from the couple, “Charlie’s great, you know?”

“Yeah,” he gave her a dry chuckle, “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why aren’t you happy that at least they’re not an asshole?”

“Just,” Harry looked at his friend, a defeated look on his face before the sound of you squealing gleefully grabbed his attention, watching as Charlie had their arms wrapped around you from behind, the both of you laughing as your friends all smiled in awe, “Just wish I were Charlie.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagine #heather #harry styles angst one shot #harry styles one shot #bestfriend!harry

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artisqueer · 3 years

Photo

RetroBangBoy AU - My Time, Finale (ao3)

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairings: Jungkook x reader, OT7 x reader, ft namkook, namjin, taekook.

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of violence, death and alcohol.

“…oh yes, so pretty, Dear. Whoever receives this must be very special,” the old woman says as she wraps a small item for one of your classmates.

You peer over their shoulder to get a look. It’s a marbly bracelet. Each glass bead resembles a colorful beach stone, with one long pendant carved in the shape of a crescent moon. It's very pretty and must hold great significance. The classmate bows to the woman and turns around to leave.

Your eyes meet.

“Jungkook??”

His widened eyes match yours twice over.

Jungkook is on this trip too? But he’s a greaser…How did I not see this one coming!

Field Observation #6: You are not doing a good job avoiding boy drama, Bighead.

“Hi, big—I mean, Y/N…” Jungkook stammers. A camellia-hue blushes at his round cheeks as he moves aside for you to set your items on the counter. He drops his gaze down to his shoes and his long hair falls over his face.

The tone of surprise in your voice echoes in your ears. You cringe at yourself, hoping Jungkook didn’t notice and take offense. It just never occurred to you that Jungkook is the academic type. You round off the reasons in your head. He’s a greaser and rides in Joon’s motorcycle gang, you’ve never shared a class or seen him study, he’s always dressed like a punk and has skipped every school event ever, and, and… when you went on that date to the drive-in movie he never mentioned school. You get a flashback of him making out with the french fries and drinking two chocolate milkshakes. He had no interest in you at all.

Did he really keep this persona from you? That he’s so… cool?

The lady looks from you to Jungkook and back to you, very clearly enticed by the tension. You scramble out of the awkwardness, trying to make light talk. Jin made it so easy.

“How have you been? I didn’t see you on the bus earlier or else I would have—" you ramble on, quickly paying for your items.

“It’s OK. I tend to lay low. I was in the back…on the bus, I mean. Rode here with Tae, actually.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

The old woman slides a small card across the counter. “For the ring, Dear,” she gestures to the small ring in your hand and smiles at you both tenderly. “It’s from the future, so use it well.” She gives you a wink. (mood rings first appeared in 1970)

You tuck the small card into your jacket pocket along with your tangerines and slide the ring onto your middle finger. You both bow to the old woman and walk out of Yeongjusan House with your souvenirs in tow. Once outside, the ring changes color from amber to yellow.

“Oh, you rode with Tae? Is that…OK?” you pose curiously.

“What, because we’re into different subcultures?” he chuckles from behind his messy long hair. His voice is always so quiet speaking to you like if he used his full volume he could break something, or someone. “Pfft, Bighead really,” he continues, “I wonder how you even got nominated for this retreat.” He laughs as he runs away. You make to playfully hit his arm but miss as he pulls away with excellent reflexes, giggling behind his tiny travel bag while you gawk at the size of his arms. There’s no way. What do greasers, eat??? It’s like their muscles just pop out at the most inconvenient times, like right now.

“I thought greasers and jocks hate each other. It’s kind of the point. Having different class backgrounds and all…” You kick some tall grass.

“That’s a stereotype, Bighead. Just because an ideology is popular in a group doesn’t mean we all believe it. Tae isn’t like most jocks, he’s…different.” Jungkook’s smile seems to be the only thing visible behind his shaggy rockabilly.

“So you guys are…friends?” You ask hesitantly.

“I guess,” he plays with his tattooed fingers. “He’s been helping me with a project, so we’ve been hanging out a lot lately. But,” he pouts, “my gang doesn’t really know.”

“About the project or Taehyung?”

“Well, both,” he laughs nervously, “it’s a bit complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and you notice the pulsing veinery dancing from his knuckles up to his forearms. Damn.

He doesn’t seem ready to talk about it. You clear your throat and change the subject. “Well, we have half an hour before the next group activity. Want a tangerine? It’s grown locally! ” You chuck one to him and he catches it with both hands.

You settle on the hillside, a shady patch of grass overlooking the northern face of the island.

“So,” you say between peels of the tiny fruit, “what subject were you nominated for?”

“Physics. I don’t usually participate in school stuff,” he stares down his tangerine, “but I really want to see the caves.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a ribbon. You stop peeling to watch him gather his hair and tie it up. When did it get so long? Now you can finally see his big eyes.

“Huh? Caves?” you weren’t listening because you were distracted by his beautiful side profile. What is it with these nerds and their caves?

Jungkook returns your gaze. “Have you heard of the Bermuda Triangle?” he says with big round eyes sparkling. He gets up and approaches the flat rock next to you. With one swift motion, he jumps and lands on top of it, no hands. Core strength. He stretches his arms above his head and his shirt rides up a bit. From your position on the ground, a glimpse of the unobtrusive trail below his navel invites your mind to fantasies of a very different kind of field trip. He looks down at you sweetly, waiting for your reply.

You shake your head, “I’m more of a biologist. Educate me?”

He gestures for you to join him up on the rock. Though Jungkook made it look easy, the climb for you is much more grueling. He lifts you up with the strength of one arm until you’re shoulder to shoulder. You try to get breath into your lungs without seeming too obvious. Struggling, your nostrils flare and the wind picks up. It carries hints of his musk and sweat. You can’t help but inhale deeply until his fragrance fills you with assurance. Glancing down at your hand, you notice the ring is bluish-green but you can’t recall what the card said.

The bluish-green ocean on the horizon looks like the perfect backdrop for Jungkook’s physics lesson. He starts, “Eight years ago, ships started disappearing out in the western sea. First a small fishing boat, then a big cargo ship, it didn’t matter how big or how many people. They just, vanished. No bodies, no debris, no trace. No one could explain the missing wreckage, so the papers wrote about violent storms to give the families of the lost some closure, something to blame. Only, it would happen again, within the exact same coordinates…The Bermuda Triangle. I think I have a theory. It can be explained with physics, the magnetic field, more specifically. Some physicists believe there’s something special about the Bermuda Triangle’s location in the magnetic field. There are believed to be other places like Bermuda,” Jungkook looks from you to the coast, “and one of them is here.”

“You mean, the legend of the caves? Where the pirates disappeared? I thought it’s just a local myth…"

“There’s more to it than the legend.” He leans in and whispers, “The government’s studying it closely too.”

“What,” you chortle loudly, “the government is funding myth-busters?”

Jungkook’s face is serious af. “It’s not a myth, Bighead. The Republic of Korea started building a naval base here in 1933.” He points to the east. The tall glass building of the research facility can be seen from here, shimmering in unnatural contrast to everything else on the island. You squint.

Field Observation #7: You definitely need specs..and to read more news.

Jungkook continues, “They started planning a naval base on the island some years ago. Construction started in Gangjeong village right over there,” he points west to the ferry docks where you first arrived. “The base was designed to be a mixed military-commercial port so that it could handle ferries, cruise ships, and…warships and submarines.”

“Why would they want a naval base here? It’s just a quiet little sanctuary…” you say as you both sit down on the rock.

He rests his arms over his knees. “That’s exactly what the local villagers said. They were strongly opposed to it. Many worried that the private lab was doing experiments hazardous to the environment. They organized many protests, but in the end, they could only slow down the process. The military moved in with force and built the complex anyway.”

“But that’s like, totally against everything this retreat is about. What about all these scientists working at the conservatory, aren’t they here to study wildlife and protect it?”

“Where do you think their funds come from, Y/N? The lab is backed by the military, which means everything they do is government research.”

“How do you know all this?”

“It’s the subject of my research.” He looks around again, the bun atop his head bobbing side to side. “That’s what Tae has been helping me with.”

“Jungkook, I don’t understand. What’s Tae helping you expose the lab for? What do you think they are hiding?” You stare down his side profile. He bites his bottom lip with his bunny teeth.

“It’d become very dangerous for you if you knew,” he reaches to fix your wind-tousled hair. “Trust me.”

Field Observation #8: Don’t trust men, unless they are Jungkook.

He gives you a warm, reassuring smile. “Let’s get going now, we don’t wanna miss the next activity.”

***

The chaperones lead everyone down the hill for the next activity on schedule. The Butterfly House.

Jin has not returned yet, you’re starting to miss his chaotic antics. At the front of the crowd, Professor Choi is desperately trying to get the class’s attention. Several stern scientists are hovering on the side, waiting for silence so they can deliver the welcome introduction. Once it quiets down, two of the scientists give a run-through on the Butterfly House rules. Among them, it is expected that all students keep their touching to a minimum and especially, keep out of the restricted areas marked by red fence. Hunger strikes your tummy, and you wish Jin were here to cure it with his magic snack bag. A nudge to your rib sends you out of your daydream. You turn to your side. Jungkook has a giant butterfly resting on the tip of his nose. Its shimmery blue wings gently tilting up and down. Jungkook is still, afraid it will fly away. You giggle at the sight of him holding the breath in his cheeks.

The class breaks off into groups to tour the facility.

“Good Afternoon, students. Welcome to our 30-by-15-meter glass atrium.” Your group leader reads off a script as student’s heads tilt back to observe the magnificent architecture above. “We are proud to receive you as guests of the first walk-through butterfly habitat in the eastern hemisphere. It first opened in 1957, so you are the first scholars to visit. Inside these walls, you will find some 500 free-flying butterflies of up to 25 different species. There are about 15,000 to 20,000 known species of butterflies found worldwide and many yet to be discovered. You may find swallowtails and birdwings, brightly colored, or camouflaged among the plants. Some might be difficult to spot, as butterflies can be as small as 3 mm, but can also be as large as 304 mm….”

A small butterfly floats past the guide’s shoulder and rests on it. “Ah, a Sasakia charonda, the great purple emperor. Native to the Korean Peninsula, Japan, China, and northern Taiwan, and Vietnam. As we see, butterflies can be orange, white, black, and even purple. However, they cannot see how beautiful they look because butterflies can only see red, green, and yellow. The journey to becoming a butterfly is always an inspiring tale.” The guide struggles to find their place on the script.

You tilt your head back and stare in awe, the scale of technology here is incredible. Your biologist brain buzzes with millions of questions. How did they replicate a tropical rainforest like this in 1958? Are there places like this in Japan too, or perhaps the United States? The facility is lush with amazon trees and exotic plants. It’s so dense. Thousands of vines cover the floors and wrap around the trees. Layers of moss and countless species of flora and fauna lie in the shaded canopies. Vines dominating the taller trees cross overhead, reaching over through air to dominate the other side. Some climb so high they span the atrium’s glass ceiling, where the sunlight pours in strongest. An astonishing vision of Darwin’s theory of natural selection.

The guide has found their place in the script and begins reading. “There are, um, four cycles of the butterfly’s life. A butterfly starts out as an egg. Then it hatches into a caterpillar, called the larva. The larva goes into a cocoon called the pupa stage, and finally, emerges as an adult butterfly free to spread their wings and fly. We have a display with pupa ready to hatch, please follow me…” The students clamor excitedly after the guide, who disappears down the pathway in the thick greenery.

Yelps can be heard in the distance as students and chaperones alike encounter all sorts of buzzing insects. You duck below the low-hanging vines. One thing they forgot to mention is the climate control in here. Somehow, the air in the atrium is kept very humid to mimic that of the Amazon rainforest. After a while, the moisture in the air becomes nearly suffocating. Jungkook, however, seems to be doing just fine. Suddenly, he reaches for your hand and clasps it in his, clammy.

“Look, there’s Jin!” you almost yell. Your hands are torn apart as you run over to the fence. Jin is working on the other side in a glass office. His face is buried in an apparatus that looks something like an advanced microscope. Dozens of flasks, books, and petri dishes are strewn across the bench before him. He looks like he’s busy.

“This area’s off-limits. I don’t think we can interrupt him.” Jungkook tugs at your sleeve. You expel air and look back at Jungkook to find that the blue butterfly has returned. Right atop his head, it sits, flitting its wings as Jungkook scrunches his nose. The butterfly doesn’t budge.

“Looks like Morpho adonis.” The angelic voice comes from behind you.

Jungkook rolls his eyes with the butterfly still on his head.

“Jin! You looked really preoccupied. What are you working on over there?” you indicate the room guarded by the fence.

“Oh, just some plant cell assays. They think they discovered a new species of moss in a cavern, so I’m helping look at samples. It’s promising. I’m running the RNA against the ones from my own research. If it matches, the cave is likely the one they’ve been looking for, a habitable location for—well, uh it’s confidential. Sorry, you understand.” His smile is still so genuine even when he’s withholding secret government information.

Jungkook tenses at the mention of “caves”.

“Have you seen it?” he asks.

“Seen what?” Jin returns.

“The cave. Have you been there?” Jungkook’s hands are shaking a little, so you move closer by his side and take his hand.

Jin’s eyes follow the movements of your hands. Just like they did back at the library the first time you met.

“I haven’t, no.” He lies.

“Sorry Choco, I’ll have to join you again tomorrow. Professor Moon asked for my help and it seems like it's going to take the rest of the evening. I’m sure Jungkook will keep you company for dinner in my place?” He gives you another sweet smile, but it has a bitter undertone. Much like Namjoon, when he had seen you with Yoongi’s jacket on that weird day.

Field Observation #9: Stop reading between the lines, they don’t like you like that.

“Before you both go—Jungkook, I have something for you,” Jin rolls up the sleeves of his lab coat and steps back into the room before returning.

He holds his hands out and you both peer down at the delicate thing sitting in his palms.

“What is it?” Jungkook nudges.

“Juniperus shimpaku,” Jin beams, “a bonsai.”

You watch Jin place the small tree in Jungkook’s outstretched hands.

“Give it to Namjoon, as my peace offering. Tell him it grows near the sea, so it will prefer regular misting. The foliage is needle-like now because it’s young, but as it grows older it will get scalier. One of the best things about Shimpaku is its hard resinous wood…ideal for advanced sculptural techniques such as jin, shari and sabamiki.” Jin bursts into his signature windshield laugh.

This time you roll your eyes, but Jungkook giggles along.

“Uh, thanks I guess,” Jungkook accepts the gift. “But I don’t know why you don't give it to him yourself. Knowing Joon, he’s pretty old-fashioned. If you've pissed him off, he can be really petty and hold a grudge. He holds things in until it gets really heavy—”

At that moment, a loud engine bang is heard from outside the atrium. The glass walls shake and the birds in the trees fly away in droves of panic.

“What the hell was that?” you say, but nothing else happens. The disturbance was momentary.

"Nothing to fear folks," one of the chaperones calls from a distance. "A small aircraft had to make an emergency landing nearby. Idiots over-estimated their weight capacity and ran out of gas. Carry on."

“Anyway,” Jin continues, “take good care of it until you can give it to him. Oh, and if you’re prone to Drosophila melanogaster with your regular houseplants, you might want to lay off drowning the soil...”

“Droso-whatagaster?” you both say.

“Fruit. Flies.” Jin sighs. “Now please, go before someone sees you here. I am restricted material!” He grins at you and waves you off.

On your way out, your hand finds Jungkook’s again. Less clammy than before.

“Thank you for visiting the Butterfly Habitat, we hope you’ll gain a greater appreciation for butterflies and their place in the world’s ecosystems. Before you leave though, remember to check your clothing for any hitchhikers and pose by the Heaven Lotus for a memorable photo!” the chaperones guide you out toward the Heaven Lotus, where Taehyung is snapping photos.

“Jungkook, are we still on for tomorrow?” Tae heavily eyes your locked hands before Jungkook lets it go. Jungkook nods. You both smile, ready for the flash. Click.

***

Jungkook eats dinner with you at a Haenyeo House. Four bowls of jeonbokjuk (abalone porridge) to be exact. Afterward, you browse the framed black and white photos on the wall. They tell the story of the haenyeo (sea women), the island’s legendary sea divers. Since the 18th century, deep-sea diving for fish became the work of women until their workforce outnumbered the men. So much so, the island has become a semi-matriarchal society, where the head of the heterosexual household is the woman, not the man. You and Jungkook remark if that is possible here in 1958, then why not on the mainland? The villages here seems to be ahead of their time. Patriarchy and heteronormative standards are still dominant in most places and probably will be for many years to come. After digesting your abalone with more discourse about dismantling the patriarchy and capitalism, you and Jungkook go out on the beach.

The sun has already gone down, marking the first day of the retreat over. The only light source radiating from the campfires along the beach and the star-lit sky. The campfire nearest your sleeping tent is vacant. The question of sharing a tent crosses your mind.

“Arent you going to tent up with your assigned travel buddy?” you ask Jungkook.

“My what?” he sips from his flask then stares expectantly at you.

“Your travel…buddy??” It’s not a weird question, right?

“Where did you hear that? I can guarantee there's no travel buddy list,” he giggles into his flask.

“But, Jin said…” You reflect on the words as you stare into the fire.

Water shoots from Jungkook’s nose as he tumbles forward. “He said he was your assigned travel buddy?! Ahahaha—”

Apparently, there was no such thing. Jin made it up just to have a reason to be with you during the trip. What are you supposed to think now?

You’ve had a long first day, to say the least. Jungkook helps you relax. The night passes too quickly as you exchange stories under the stars. At some point, you pass out asleep and feel Jungkook place his jacket over your chest. He carries you into the tent. You roll over onto your stomach and splay like a starfish. Jungkook struggles to remove your shoes and get you into the sleeping bag. Then the darkness swallows you and you drift into a deep sleep. Whatever comes tomorrow can’t possibly top the day you’ve had.

***

You wake the next morning to an empty tent and two layers of sleeping bag. The extra is not yours. Your back is stiff and you feel like your whole body has sunk two feet in the sand. After a little morning spruce, you find Jungkook having breakfast by the campfire. The bonsai tree sits on a rock in front of him and the souvenir bracelet rolls between his fingers.

“That’s a really nice souvenir!” you sit beside him.

“Thanks. It’s for, um, Namjoon actually. Ha ha. You think he’ll like it? Joon loves the sea but, he works so much. He’s studying part-time and can’t take advanced classes.” He scratches the back of his round head again.

“That’s lovely, Jungkook. I think he will definitely love it.” Jungkook is so sweet, you can’t help feel a little jealous after how aloof he was with you on your first date. “Oh, this is totally random but speaking of Namjoon, you haven’t heard anything from him, have you? Last time we spoke was kinda weird…I thought maybe he said someth—"

“Y/N. I have to tell you something,” he hesitates, lingering for permission.

“What is it?” you say. The morning wind on the beach is a little chilly. You fold your arms across your chest for some warmth.

“Do you remember that day? The day I was supposed to pick you up after work?” he fiddles with the bracelet.

Now it’s your turn to choke on your flask. Your stomach feels like it’s going to sink with all the emotions of that day returning. Jin completely avoided this conversation, but here goes Jungkook getting right into it.

“Yes, I remember it all too clearly,” you sigh. “I was on my way to the parking lot where I thought you were picking me up. I was walking by the court while the jocks were playing a game. Then the ball went out of bounds and hit me. I passed out and woke up after Yoongi, uh, resuscitated me. His hand was injured and he looked really mad. He still took me to Namjoon’s. Namjoon was acting all weird about it, but I still don't know why.”

“Well, that’s one version of it. But that’s not our version.” Jungkook explains.

“You see, I have um, I have a secret. The project I mentioned that Tae is helping me with, it’s a dangerous project. A few months ago, I discovered something while experimenting. I may have sort of opened a dimensional rift.” He waits anxiously for your response.

“What does that mean, Jungkook. You farted?”

“No! Haha. In quantum physics, there’s a theorem called the Casimir effect, it essentially says that if you conduct the right amount of energy through the right materials at the right time, you can open a door through space-time.”

“Time travel?” you question.

“Yes!!! Time travel.” He whispers. “I messed with it and got it right. That day you got hit with a basketball, it wasn’t the players' fault, it was me! Haha—.” He says it too happily for your taste.

“Hey!… I thought the jocks might have done it on purpose,” you pout.

“It was an accident, I swear to Namjoon! I haven't completely mastered control over this thing yet. That day I was running a bit late, so I thought, "why not?" . It worked obviously, but there was some, uh, glitching. It was not a clean jump. I injured some people when I jumped back, especially you. I'm really sorry. Only Yoongi and Namjoon knew about my jumping experiments then. Yoongi rushed there to stop me. It could have been a disaster, Y/N. But I figured out that I can do a cleaner jump if I have a stronger source of energy. The vacuum isn't it. ” his eyes are sparkly again.

You are quiet, thinking.

“So, let me see. You can travel through time using science, but you don’t have a good grip on the specifics yet. Yoongi, Jin, and basically everyone else knows about it now. You all got together while I was passed out and schemed a lie so I wouldn’t find out I got knocked by an experimental poltergeist. Am I understanding it correctly?”

He blinks. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Jungkook. You are so cool…”

He blushes, “I’d rather be dead than cool…”

“Since I’ve already been a victim of your jumping experiments. Can I know about the cave?”

Jungkook sighs. “I told you yesterday that the cave is like the Bermuda Triangle. Under ideal conditions, the cave can be a portal for time travel. The lab doesn’t know what conditions exactly, but I do. They aren’t up to anything good with it. If the lab got its hands on time portal capability, it would have the power to manipulate the past and future. Taehyung did some journalistic investigating on the lab. It's called Heaven, Inc. Before it got the military permission to colonize the island, they were just another underfunded private lab, doing shady work for shady leaders. Corrupt stuff. Tae discovered that the lab has already found the cave and they've closed it off. It’s not much time before they get the conditions right. Do you see why we have to intervene? Only we know about it. The cave would be weaponized. A weapon of dimensional shifting.”

“Jin can't know what he’s part of, right? I mean, he would never volunteer for something like that. He’s good…”

“I dunno, he definitely knows where the cave is. Tae and I have a plan. We’ll follow him to the cave and film it all. The video will be released to the papers and the government will have to shut down the complex.”

“That’s doesn’t sound like a good plan, Jungkook. It’s dangerous. They have the strictest enforcement here. What if they stop you?”

“Trust me, Y/N. They need a really big source of energy to open the portal. After my experiments, I think I figured out how it works, but I’ll need your help..." He looks at you with the same expression he’s had the whole time, “Can I kiss you?” Endearing and determined.

You are completely startled at the turn of confessions.“It's for science, right?”

“For science,” he grins.

“Ok, I trust you.”

He lunges forward and kisses you passionately on the lips. Your eyes shut tight and butterflies erupt in your atrium. Not counting Yoongi’s resuscitation technique, this is your first real kiss. Jungkook’s hand comes up to hold your face. He brushes your cheek and lingers, savoring you as long as he can.

At last, you break. “Wow,” he pants, “thank you.”

“Hey?” you pant back, “this better earn us the Nobel Prize.”

***

Taehyung joins you and Jungkook at 7 o’clock sharp, carrying several duffle bags. He sets them down and slicks back his hair. “The name’s Bond, James Bond,” he says with a deep voice. Jungkook ignores him, too deep in thought focusing on the surroundings. Tae turns to you for approval and flashes his adorable boxy smile. You are really about to embark on a covert operation with Taekook.

You squat behind the dense thicket, waiting. Jin passes by with a group of serious scientists. As usual, Jin looks too chippy first thing in the morning. He stands out like a sore thumb. The youngest in the group and the most enthusiastic. Still, he remains well-mannered and eagerly follows orders as they prep for their second day excavating the hidden site.

The three of you follow the group down to the north-facing coastline, staying out of view. The group you’re tailing disappears into a tunnel behind a glistening waterfall. You wait behind some big rocks. A branch cracks behind you and you spin around. Funny. You could swear you saw a glimpse of the big-breasted mathematician's ass hanging out of a tree. No way. You're probably still dazed from locking lips with Jungkook. There's no way Namjoon would ever be here. Then, Jin’s laughter emerges from the cave as he leads the group back out. He saunters past, delightedly chatting up the eldest scientist. You sigh. Poor Jin, he really believes this about some moss.

“Well, we found it.” Taehyung whispers. “That was easy.”

Too easy. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. Like right before you are about to lose something. You glance over to Jungkook who is contemplating the next move. Your lips are still tingling from his kiss. Was it real? During your first date, he seemed so aloof. Sure, he was always sweet and protective, but it didn’t mean anything. That’s just how Jungkook is.

Yoongi’s old words ring in your ears,

“Listen, Dove, it’s just a random coincidence. It could have been anybody…”

Yoongi really meant it. He knew. They all knew.

Taehyung holds the fence open for you and Jungkook to climb through. He leaves the duffle bags by the waterfall and only grabs the camera. He takes photos of the chain-link fence protecting the cave entrance. A sign reads “RESTRICTED ACCESS”. Inside, the cave is more like a tunnel. It's cold, dark, rocky, and slippery. Jungkook lights a match and asks you to stay while he explores the interior.

You stick with Taehyung as he takes more photos. “You knew about Jungkook’s experiments?” you probe.

“Sweetcheeks, I’ve always told you, haven’t I? I appreciate art.”

Jungkook runs back from the tunnel, excited. “Hey guys, come check this out!”

You both chase after him.

“Careful, it’s slippery in here!” he yells back through the darkness.

You reach a clearing lit by torches. There's a lot of industrial equipment. Looks like the scientists have come this far. Jungkook examines the mysterious gadgets laying around, one by one. Everything has the same logo, Heaven, Inc.

“Extensional tectonics,” Jungkook mumbles. He walks to the center of the clearing and looks at the wet floor. A man-made “X” marks the spot. “It’s here, inside the Manjjanggul Lava tube. This is the dimensional rift..."

In geology, a rift is a linear zone where the lithosphere is being pulled apart. They form over thousands of years, often at the central axis of most mid-ocean ridges. The new oceanic crust and lithosphere form at a divergent boundary between two tectonic plates. The Manjjanggul Lava tube tunnel is said to be one of the longest, measuring around 7.5 kilometers deep.

Extensional tectonics, as Jungkook said. The Manjjanggul Lava tube is the second Bermuda Triangle. Conditions just right for space-time travel, if supported with a powerful catalyst.

The kiss. The kiss was the energy. Jungkook is trying to manifest the kiss into the big energy he needs to open the portal. You must be…his catalyst.

A purple light begins forming in front of Jungkook as he stands still.

“Wait don't start yet, I need to get the video camera!”

"Well Taehyung, I don't know how it starts only when it starts...and it's starting now!"

Tae runs to retrieve the equipment from outside.

You flinch as water drips on your head from lava rock on the ceiling. The walls of the cavern start vibrating on rhythms, like the pace of a butterfly’s wings or a human heartbeat. The ring on your finger blackens as a void opens within you, a creeping bad feeling. You push it down.

“What’s happening?” you move to the edge of the wall.

“It’s stopped. I felt stronger energy a few minutes ago. It’s gotten weaker for some reason…” he concentrates hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Jungkook—” you start to say. But Taehyung runs back.

“Has it worked yet? Did I miss anything?” he tosses the bags down and starts to assemble the video camera as quickly as he can.

“Wait, I feel something…” Jungkook plants his feet on the marking and holds his arms out in front of him like there’s an invisible wall there. An obscure purple cloud glows before him and the tunnel vibrates with more strength.

Tae starts filming. You flatten your bodies against the wall as more water drips from the shaking ceiling.

“I feel it.” Jungkook closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. He extends his arms farther out, pushing against the translucid wall. “It’s….happening…” he grunts as he puts all his might into the force. Blue and white hues emerge from the vortex developing at his hands. The walls of the cavern pulse even harder. You cling to the wall as you brace for the unknown.

Then, an echo of running footsteps down the tunnel gets louder. Indiscernible yelling and swearing as the heavy steps approach.

One deep voice penetrates the cave and spikes the walls harder than the supernatural force at Jungkook’s fingertips can.

“Stop!” Namjoon shouts.

“Choco! Get away from him!” Jin appears behind Joon. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Jungkook is not listening anymore. The force in his hands surges and cave walls begin to give way. Tae fumbles with the camera, desperately trying to capture the phenomenon as the tunnel shakes more violently.

Jimin approaches calmly, “I think we would all like to live, so let’s all hold hands and walk out of here in one piece…”

“I can’t leave,” Jungkook replies through the translucent shimmer. "We have to destroy this place."

Namjoon steps closer, cautious of the rocks beginning to crumble overhead.

“Jungkook, please. You are putting yourself in danger…” he pleads. The leader’s fear growing with each passing second until Namjoon breaks down and tears flow from his eyes. With that, the portal opens, rendering Jungkook helpless to its mystical aura.

Everyone is puzzled. Yoongi’s level voice is heard over the rumbling, “What just happened, why is it getting worse?” Jungkook doesn’t know, but his mesmerization with the portal overtakes him and he can’t hear the others anymore. A deep part of his conscious is already elsewhere, they’re losing him.

Jungkook’s peaceful face shimmers with waves of violet and pink. His eyes wide open, soul entering into a new dimension while his body still hangs back. Grounded in something. Or someone.

Seokjin pulls you away, trying to get you out of the tunnel. Before he can get you very far, Namjoon grabs hold of your free arm. A massive pulse sends a long fissure across the floor, dividing the space in two. You’re being pulled in two directions, Jin on one side and Joon on the other. The tunnel begins to collapse. Hoseok yells for everyone to get out. You must pick a side or you'll die.

A segment of lava rock falls, nearly crushing Taehyung who has dropped the camera. He runs to Jungkook but more rock falls, blocking him. You’re held on both sides. You look up from Namjoon’s chest. His cheeks are soaked in tears.

“You put everyone at risk,” he glares at Jin.

“Me?” Jin argues back, tugging you to himself. “Your greasers are to blame! You let Jungkook and Taehyung do something dangerous. They even brought Y/N to the cave. I made you all swear, did I not, to keep Y/N out of this! What Jungkook was doing was never safe! We had a choice to stop the lab from finding the portal key. I mocked up the plant samples to destroy the evidence and convince them this is not the place. No one was going to get hurt! But Jungkook, he made his choice. He chose to destroy the site altogether. He chose violence!”

You’re suddenly thrust away from the pair as Namjoon lunges toward Jin. He throws the first punch. Jin collides with the wall behind them. Joon makes for another hit but Jin headbutts him first, tackling the six-foot-tall man to the ground, which is now being pelted with falling lava rocks. You lose balance on the shaky floor and start to fall backward. Yoongi catches you in time and shields you from the debris, looking for a way out.

Was that true? Was Taekook’s plan all along to destroy the cave? Who is right? Who is trusted? You remember Jungkook's words. Trust me.

NamJin curse at one another as they wrestle to the ground. The leader of the greasers and the leader of the jocks. Peace was never an option, was it.

Suddenly, the pulsing hum stops and there is silence. From Yoongi’s embrace, you can still see Jungkook. One moment he is there, standing on the X mark. Namjoon reaches for him but in a moment that feels frozen, lasting longer than a moment should, a whirring noise slices through the cold air, then…Jungkook vanishes. ZAP.

All that’s left in Namjoon’s large hand, the moon bracelet. Only the sounds of heavy breathing and dripping water fill the void. Jin rises from the ground and catches his breath. He looks up at Namjoon in confusion. Still silence.

Namjoon is about to say something. Then ZAP… he vanishes through thin air. The bracelet drops to the wet ground and rolls toward you. What the fuck! Everyone looks at each other. What is happening?! A moment later, Yoongi follows. ZAP. Jimin. Taehyung. Hoseok. ZAP ZAP ZAP.

Only you and Jin are left.

***

The following morning, your school formally announces the reported disappearance of six of its students, four of whom were not attending the retreat. Their names are printed in the paper, along with their photos.

Kim Namjoon. Min Yoongi. Jung Hoseok. Park Jimin. Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook.

All Heaven, Inc. facilities are shut down for further investigation. The remaining students are sent home early in the morning. Police recover the Heaven, Inc. lab equipment from the Manjjanggul Lava tube, but can't find a single trace of the missing students. Seokjin's father gets a lawyer for the other families and files a civil suit.

The long bus ride home is melancholic. You were up all night being questioned by the police, nothing you said was written down. The reporters will dismiss the truth and release their own narrative in a few months.

The students had a secret party on a sailboat, they got drunk, had a dispute, forgot to tie it to the dock and drifted out in the middle of the night. No bodies were found. It was an accident. A simple mistake of rambunctious youth.

You and Seokjin remain quiet. Neither of you feel like talking. Six of your friends have just vanished. You fear the worst. You have endless questions. Where are they? Why did everyone but Jin jump? Did they make it through safe? Will they ever come back? What will their families do? The void inside only grows. Your racing mind exhausts and you lean your head on Jin’s shoulder. It’s big and sturdy and safe. Whatever happens from now on, at least you will have Jin by your side. You fall asleep.

***

The sound of Professor Choi quietly nudging you awake causes you to jump, “Wake up, Dear. You are home.”

“Huh, what year is it?” You rub the sleep from your eyes and feel a cramp in your neck. There’s no other student left on the bus but you. The spot next to you empty, with all but a snack left on the seat. You pick up the wrapped choco pie and stare at it. No way. Did Jin get time warped? He couldn’t have he was with me…

“It’s 1958, Dear,” Choi laughs. “Don’t forget your belongings. I’ll leave you to it.” The professor walks off the bus.

Jin got time-warped with the rest. This is not a dream. You are not dreaming.

All seven of them...left you.

Field Observation #10: It was a f*ckboy au after all. What did you expect, Bighead?

See you in 1985 :)

158 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Note

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

#cozy ask #worked quite hard on this one #really like the result too #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #abbacchio x reader #melone x reader #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #leone abbachio x reader #pomo

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lilyharvord · 3 years

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The Chain (Part 11)

Hello Darlings, it’s been a long time coming, but here is the next part of The Chain. (: Please know that there is a little bit of forcing in this chapter to make things work, but its called a plot hole, not a plot no (((: Also, she is nice and long for you guys since it has been sometime since she got some TLC.

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel.

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues.

Enjoy

Find the rest of the fic here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore, @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @... the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

The barge glides through the murky water of the river and beyond the polished silver railing I rest my hand on, the shore of the Stilts rolls by like a faded oil painting. Ahead of me, hanging over the water, is an old tree Bree once dared me to crawl out on. The branches skim the water like skeletal fingers. I curl my own fingers around the railing in response to the memory of Bree’s laugh. I hope I get to hear it again, echoing in my parent’s town home.

The footsteps behind me are too light to be Cal. Even with all the work he has done to learn subterfuge, he is still a large human being. He’ll never be very good at sneaking up on anyone. I force an inhale when warm air washes over my side though.

Maven rests his forearms on the railing to watch the Stilts with me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. I didn’t see him earlier today before we cast off, and I made sure he had no reason to speak with me now. I left nothing in those cells when I rescued Farley, not even a dusting of blood for Elara to use against me. Whatever he has come to discuss, it will define every point from now until the end.

“Have you heard of the chess move known as the King’s Snare?” His voice is softer than I thought it would be, given how hard the planes of his face are.

I glance at him warily, chewing on a response. I don’t want to talk to him about chess. I know he’s a master of it, that in all the years they played, Cal never beat him. Cal, the future general and war strategist who could throw together a plan in minutes with nothing but a handful of Reds, Ardents, and Silvers, never beat the boy before me. I don’t know why I think I have a hope of beat him or Elara.

“No. I don’t play chess.” I murmur letting the wind shift the loose hairs hanging by my cheeks. It plays in his curls too, tussling them like a loving hand.

The corner of his lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile before he turns to face me. He doesn’t flinch from my gaze, but that smile does fall. Pressing off the railing to stand at his full height, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought. “It’s a complex maneuver, and requires turns upon turns of preparation. It is the only strategy you can play once you initiate it. In each step, you make it appear as if you are losing. You let your opponent think they have won, and in the final step of preparation, you let your queen be taken and your king be cornered in a check mate.”

He shrugs before looking back onto the bank. His eyes sweep along the shacks on their tottering stilts. “Then, you take the opposing king with the only piece you have left. A pawn.”

I raise a brow at it before saying, “sounds complicated. I don’t have the patience for playing the long game, and I especially don’t like playing with people’s lives like they are pieces in my game.”

A fire lights in his eyes as he drags them over me, his expression hardening again. “I’m not so sure that’s the truth.”

His words are a warning in and of themselves. Squaring my shoulders to him and stabbing my nails into my palms, I purse my lips in a line to swallow my retort. We stand in a stalemate for a moment before he reaches a finger out to let a strand of my hair curl around it. His expression crumbles for just a moment before that mask slides up and hides the wounded boy underneath.

“Let’s not play this game Mare.” He bows his head and his lips almost ghost over my brow. I turn my head to the side to avoid the touch.

“I just told you I’m not playing games.”

His chuckle is humorless. With a quick step he closes the space between us completely and I have to crane my neck to meet his eye.

“You’re still useful to me and mother, but Cal has overstayed his welcome by a few years. His whole life actually, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

No more dancing around it then, we are going full in with the truth. I twist my lips to the side, letting my sneer finally grace my features. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you two get away with what you did a second time, you’re wrong.”

“Even if it means you lose everything you have coming?” He asks me that as if he actually cares. It makes me reel back while he smiles like a wolf. “We know Mare, and while it’s adorable watching you attempt to play against us, you played your final card last night.”

My lightning dances on my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give for Tyton’s brain lightning, so that I could turn Maven’s insides into jelly and leave him on this deck before going after Elara. I should have ended all of this weeks ago. I could have, I know that for a fact.

“I haven’t played any of my cards yet.” I warm Maven with a raised chin. I let the mask of Mareena disappear and I let him see Mare Barrow, the girl who bested two kings, the woman who has seen more than enough front lines, and who was born in a storm on top of a mountain. She has been broken and put back together so many times that she knows every piece of herself better than she ever did before. She thrives in storms and turns them to her will like this boy turns words to his.

“You haven’t seen anything Maven. Don’t for one second think you have cornered me.” My lips curl into a small smile as I look him over with a critical eye. “Besides, while you’re playing chess, I am playing another game entirely.”

A muscle in his jaw flutters when I speak, and his eyes darken further.

Pressing to my toes, I let my next words caress his lips like a kiss. “And if you two do know everything, I’m surprised you haven’t removed any and all letter openers from my reach while we’ve been together.”

His face pales in a flush, and the air around us climbs in temperature so quickly beads of sweat begin to prickle on my brow. Ignoring the monster I’ve obviously poked awake, I set my hand on his chest right above his pounding heart and drop my eyes to his lips before looking back up to meet those icy blue eyes.

“And as for your mother, I think I killed her too quickly the first time.”

His tongue darts across his teeth for a second before disappearing as his lips pull back in a sneer. There is a flash of something akin to uncertainty in his eyes though. A thrill rushes through me. She didn’t tell him that part, and she might have even kept his own death from him. Interesting.

Sliding back away from him and dropping my hand, I take in his flittering emotions he desperately tries to keep under control. I can’t image what is passing through his mind. If Elara didn’t tell him about their deaths, what else has she kept from him? It might be worth it to poke a little more and find out.

Even as the thought of prying him open and exposing his hollow insides thrills me, I can’t help thinking of how he spent hours near my bedside after Samson had turned me inside out and left me a bleeding corpse. Nor can I ignore that once upon a time, a part of him had loved me.

“Oh Maven,” I breathe, my chest aching once more as I look him over. “You could have been something wonderful if you had been anyone else’s.”

His inhale is sharp, and the heat around us vanishes as he sucks it in to fuel the furnace of his emotions. The next words that leave me are as much a truth as they are a weapon that I use against him.

“I might have loved you too, you know. I might have been happy with you.”

His entire body goes taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. I can’t imagine what those words have done to him, I know what they do to me. They relive the ache and chase away the cold bite from the autumn breeze that cuts through my loose shirt. I have known for years that he would never truly leave me, that I will always love him in a strange way. But seeing all of this, and discovering that even when I might have had a chance to save him, there was no chance so long as Elara loved him too.

“The game is beginning. Line up your pieces if you want to play chess.” I murmur to him before stepping around him and heading for the viewing deck. I pause long enough to glance at him over my shoulder though and say, “but just know, it’s hard to beat an opponent that knows every move you will make.”

(/Cal/)

Mare finds me between meetings. Her dark hair is swept up in an elaborate hairstyle she picks at nervously, drawing strands out to frame her face. Glancing over my shoulder at the remainder of the council as they pass, I pause before her long enough to say colorlessly, “Is something wrong Lady Titanos?”

The few sets of eyes that watch us look away with shrugs. Their ears are probably still tuned in, but as far as they are concerned, she is probably looking for Maven and happened to find me first.

“Farley made contact. The Hexaprin Theater just like before.”

She’s been gone most of the day with Maven, making appearances and smiling like the dutiful princess she is. I’m not sure how Farley could have possibly made contact with her during all of that, but it’s a relief she didn’t contact Maven first. Meanwhile, I’ve been locked up in Whitefire. My father has hardly let me out of his sight, which I suppose should be understandable. The attempt on my life shook him to his core. Even though I push back, insisting they wouldn’t try again, he refuses to let me leave the castle walls. I don’t know how I will get out to join Mare in this endeavor like she wants with the Sentinels that trail me almost everywhere I go. I guess it now truly understand how Mare felt during her time with us. I don’t blame her for constantly being irritable now.

Still, my brow rises as the name of the theater. I know it well. When I was younger Julian used to take me to plays and tried to pique my interest in the art form. I had squirmed in my seat the whole time, eager to get out of the dark space and run outside. He gave up once I turned ten, realizing I didn’t have much love for the arts. I knew it saddened him, that he had hoped I shared the same soft spot for them that my mother did.

My chest tightens at the thought of my uncle. I got him out of Archeon earlier than before, helping him and Sara smuggle away in the dead of night after he got Farley and Kilorn out of the cells. I sent him to Montfort with instructions to speak with Dane Davidson as soon as possible. To try and get him in contact with Guard. There’s no telling if they made it. I can only hope they managed to cross the border.

“It’ll be tough for me to get out.”

“This will only work if you come with me.” Mare insists, her eyes darting past my elbow to the doors of the council chamber. I know who she’s looking for, but she won’t find him.

“He’s seeing to something with his mother.” I instruct, even as I glance around just to be certain. Only a servant passes in a flutter of skirts. She curtsies to me and Mare before hurrying along, obviously loath to be around us any longer than necessary.

“The bloodbase.” Mare’s voice drops to a worried waver as she sets her hand on her pocket. I know she has the book hidden in the pocket of her jacket, the one Julian gifted her with the name of every Ardent he found within Norta’s borders. She sleeps with it under her pillow, her fingers curled around the faded cover as if Maven will creep into her room at night and steal it away.

Shaking my head, I grab her elbow and pull her into an alcove when I hear the sound of more steps approaching. I squeeze into the space between the pillars with her until our bodies almost have to become one to fit. Her hands rest on my chest as she evens out her breathing, recognizing a hiding place when she sees it.

A group of nobles pass us, Osanos and Iral judging by the colors of their clothes. I purse my lips and wait until they leave the hall to look back down at her and whisper. “I took care of it. I printed out all their names and wiped them from the database. They’re safe.”

“Unless Maven is already going after them.” Mare mutters bitterly.

“He hasn’t. I checked last known whereabouts too. Everyone is accounted for.”

“People lie on those stupid records Cal.”

“Not when you’re the first person in years to click on the page.” I let my lips curl into a knowing smile. She can think I’m stupid and hardheaded all she wants, but I do know my way around my own world. “There is a clicker at the bottom of each record to indicate the last time it was opened. I am the first one to look at them in years. You can’t lie to that program.”

She expels a breath, before look up at me through her lashes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. We’re meddling too much now.”

“At this point, does it really matter?” I ask, repeating words I spoke to Julian in the dead of night when he questioned my decision to send him to Ascendent.

Her lips draw into a tight line that pales her already painted lips. “No.” She agrees before sliding out of the alcove so I can follow her.

When we step into the light, I watch the shifting sunbeams as they cut across her face. She crosses her arms before looking down the hallway and saying, “We need to get into the afternoon showing. Can you do that?”

I grimace thinking about my father and the hawk like eyes he has kept on me recently. “It’ll be difficult, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Do you want to rehearse with me?” She teases, eyes lighting with laughter when she notices how I chew on my lower lip.

“I think I’ll tell my father that I’ve decided Evangeline can take a long walk off a short pier and that I much prefer you and I plan to make heirs with you as soon as we enter than theater box.”

Her eye widen and a blush paints her cheeks. It’s so ferocious the makeup almost can’t hide it. It makes me chuckle before reaching a hand out to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb along that warm puddle of red staining her skin. “Kidding love. Although I think that he’ll be so surprised and horrified that he lets me go just to see if I’m serious.”

“Mess up my nice skirts Tiberias and I will take your hands for it.” She snorts before pulling away and throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Get us tickets to the show and be there with me. Also, it might be a good idea to assign Walsh to a... different part of Whitefire.”

I grimace, remembering the last time I saw her foaming at the mouth while I tried to close her throat to keep the poison from spreading. I sent her for Mare, trusted her with the secret that I met a Red girl in the Stilts and cared. Regardless of what Mare might have thought of me before when that moment passed, I did care. A part of me had been horrified to watch the light leave Walsh’s eyes.

“I’ll make sure of it.” I whisper.

(/Mare/)

The theater darkens, and I sink back into my chair, keeping an eye on the Sentinels standing in the doorway. They are here to protect Cal. Allowances had to be made so that he could leave Whitefire, but its an allowance that may cost us our meeting with Farley. There are more of them than before, but they’re simply a hinderance, one that will have to be dealt with at some point very soon.

Honestly, Maven and Elara trying to kill him has simply become an annoyance now. If they hadn’t, it would be so much easier to sneak around with Cal.

“They have to go.” I murmur, letting my eyes flint to them as I edge a little closer to the railing of the box and glance over it into the crowd below.

With a quick nod, Cal leans back in his seat. Before Maven gave the secretary that came with us a mischievous smile and quick order to get rid of our tail. Cal can do no such thing without raising suspicion. It’s already gotten out that I am the one that shouted his name and stopped the bleeding during the Sun Shooting long enough for Sara Skonos to get to him and save him. But Cal spread a faster rumor behind it, his words burning like wildfire through the High Houses, erasing the rumor I know Elara started about us. My shout hadn’t been in fear according to his account, it had sounded like nerves. Maybe I’d lost Maven in the crowd and gotten overwhelmed by the proceedings, and when I had seen Cal I called to him for help. Because of that, I had been close enough to stop the bleeding when the gun went off.

I had been shocked at the lie he told with an abandon to his father and the court, and how well he crafted it on a moment’s notice. Perhaps he needed to stop spending so much time around Dane. I had noticed that crafty man spending a suspicious amount of time trying to craft Cal into a better Statesman in the recent years.

“Sentinel Osanos, if you could take the others into the antechamber.” He nods over his shoulder to the small sitting room attached to the box. “I doubt you and the others have any interest in this show and your presence is unfortunately ruining Lady Mareena’s first impressions of it too.”

“I have my orders, sir.” The Sentinel warns, his eyes darting between the two of us.

“I can handle anything that comes.” Cal lets his lips quirk into an arrogant smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but it’s one of the few soldiers masks in his arsenal. It still makes my stomach flutter. “Besides, Lady Mareena has proven herself quite capable of saving my life if need be.”

Osanos debates it for a very long second as the murmurs below us quiet and the curtain rustles with the start of the performance. During that second, my heart pounds. I don’t dare look up at the grating above out heads where I know Will Whistle will appear.

“Of course, Your Highness.” The Sentinel bows his head and then nods to bring the others with him into the room. The door clicks shut, and the lock engages. I grab Cal’s hand and squeeze it in silent praise, before glancing at him side on.

“Impressive.”

His smile falls as he looks away from the door and forward again. “We’ll have to be silent. We’re lucky my father didn’t send an Eagrie with us.”

Unfolding from his position in the chair to relax further, he turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. The touch sends waves of reassurance through me. Now we just have to keep him hidden long enough that Will doesn’t recognize him and gets us to Farley. After that, I’m not quite sure what we will do.

“Farley won’t let you on the Undertrain without a fight.” I murmur, glancing at our joined hands. He sweeps his thumb along my skin in a soothing motion even as his eyes stay forward on the stage as it comes to life.

Gentle touches in the dark, so very like how our relationship started. It almost makes me snicker. I suppose things never really did change between us.

He doesn’t reply to my comment, but I know he’s thinking about it all the same. His palm heats with his frustration, but he doesn’t show it on his face.

I let my eyes wander to the stage where I finally get a look at the play I never watched before. Brightly colored costumes dance across the stage and I tilt my head to look at them, trying to understand the story. “We never went to any of the plays in Ascendent.” I murmur to him.

There were plenty of playhouses, and I know for a fact Julian got us tickets to one he loved. We never got the chance to go, but now I wish we had.

“I’ve never been a fan of theater.” He chuckles and finally turns to look at me. He traded his finer regalia for a more toned down jacket and black shirt today. With the aid of the darkness, I can almost imagine we are in Ascendent, that it’s just another weekend and we decided to do something we’ve never done.

“Then when you annoy me, I am going to drag you to shows when we get back and tie you to a chair so you can’t leave.” I say with a smirk.

The ceiling panel above our heads slides away, and his eyes dart up at the same time as mine. We’re both accustomed to how the Guard functions. The sudden disappearance of the tile doesn’t surprise him like it did Maven.

“Show time.” I whisper to him before dropping his hand and stepping on the seat of my chair. Grasping the edge of the hole I haul myself up into the darkness. When I glance down to help him though, he is already half-way into the crawl space with me. The panel slides into place as soon as Cal vanishes in the shadows. I wait half a second for Will to sound an alarm to notice that I don’t have the right prince with me.

He does no such thing, simply speaks into the darkness the same words he did before. “Be quick and quiet. I’ll take you from here.”

I reach for Cal’s wrist in the dark and grip it tightly with a reassuring squeeze. Will turns and begins to climb through the space, not waiting for us to follow.

“Watch your head,” I instruct as I skirt the edge of the ceiling panel. “It gets low in a few places.”

Cal grunts in understanding but follows at a pace that surprises me. It was a tight squeeze for Maven, so I don’t really know how Cal manages but he does. I’m sure he has Farley’s work with him to thank for that. He crawled through enough sewer tunnels and drains with us while we were at the Notch after all. I’m sure while I was locked away with Maven he was doing the same thing too.

The sounds of the play overhead mask our movements as we drop down ladders and steps and through little trapdoors. Cal only smacks his head once, and I flip around to grab his head to check for blood when he curses soundly in the dark. I grimace when I feel the nasty knot already taking shape on his forehead near his hairline. That will have to be explained away when we get back, but we really truly don’t have time to assess it too much. Will sets grueling pace, and Cal practically shoves me forward when the Whistle almost disappears around a turn.

It takes only minutes for us to drop into the access tunnels that connect to the Undertrain platform. The damp chill of the space presses through my thin jacket and pants, reminding me of the march we did into Archeon to save Cal and everyone from the Lakelander invasion. Cal drops lightly down behind me though, and instantly the space warms and the memory fades. It’s still too dark to see his features clearly which is only to our advantage. I can’t have Will trying to stop us now.

That cover does not last long though. The platform is haunted by a lone torch, and when Will turns around with a sharp smile, ready to bask in our surprise, his eyes widen as he takes in Cal behind me. I set my hand on Cal’s chest in response, trying to push him back into the shadows while I light my hand with lightning.

Will never gets a chance to act though, the furious screech of the Undertrain as it rushes into the station shakes the walls and announces Farley’s arrival. As it coasts to a stop in front of us, Will spins to the doors and waves his arms while trying to shout over the screeching of the brakes to give a signal to not stop. The train grinds to a halt though, and the doors still open to spill more light onto the platform.

Farley unfolds from the chair like a spring let loose. Her hand flies to the gun at her hip, and I spin to face her with my lightning at the same time. Even with my ears ringing from the sound of the brakes engaging, I can hear the click of her turning the safety off as she draws the gun.

“Farley—” I try to shout, but Cal beats me to speaking, his voice a dangerous warning echoing in the tunnel as he glares Farley down.

“Diana, stop.”

He would have gotten the same reaction if he burned her alive. Farley’s eyes widen at the usage of her birthname, and her fingers wavers on the trigger long enough for me to speak.

“He’s with us.” I urge as I drop my hand, but I don’t dismiss the lightning bouncing between my fingers like webbing. It’s my own warning to her. She knows what I can do, and like her, I don’t miss anymore.

Her laugh is unexpected, and I almost jump at the sharp bite of it. She keeps the gun raised, but her fingers slides from the trigger to rest alongside the barrel. It’s the only sign she is still listening to us. “The little prince was right. He’s whispered his way into your head.”

“The only ones whispering into anyone’s heads is Maven and Elara .” Cal speaks quietly, his eyes scanning the track and the platform for any more Scarlet Guard operatives. There are none to be seen though.

Farley tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to diamond colored slits. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull the trigger or even move her finger in the direction of it.

I expel a slow sigh of relief and take a step forward. I can feel the burn of electricity in the train, screaming like an upset toddler to be released. Gritting my teeth against the heachache forming because of it, I murmur, “you trusted me to get you out of that cell, trust me in this Farley. Hear us out.”

Her eyes moves past my shoulder to Cal who staggers his stance to move in either direction if he has to avoid her bullet. Her jaw ticks, and the electricity reaches an all time high pitch that stands my hairs on end. I haven’t felt anything like it weeks, not since the shield during Queenstrial exploded around me and tried to contain me.

“Make your decision, the Undertrain won’t wait.” I grimace as I reach up to press my fingers to my temple where the ache is strongest. If she notices my use of the train’s name, she doesn’t say anything.

Cal takes a step forward, stealing ground, only for Farley train that gun on him again and rest her finger on the trigger.

“Not another step, Your Highness.” She squeezes gently, putting enough pressure on that trigger that even the slightest movment on her part will fire the gun. I side step to put myself in front of Cal should she overestimate her abilities, but Cal simply pushes me to the side again.

With quick movements he unclasps the bracelets around his wrists and holds them up to the light for Farley to see. “Incentive,” he murmurs before tossing them in her direction. She lowers the gun to catch them one handed, almost dropping them due to their weight. I inch forward, my hand extended for them in surprise. I trust Cal to make a tactical decision, but he just threw his own tactical advantage five feet away from him.

The metal bands glint dully in the odd florescent lights of the Undertrain, but Farley glances down at them, unimpressed. With a quirked brow she raises the gun again, although its much more hesitant this time.

“I’m nothing without them.” Cal instructs while he sweeps his arms out from his sides as if to accentuate his point. “Keep them until we finish talking if it pleases you. But we do have to talk.”

“I know.” Farley reasons, her eyes narrowing before darting between the two of us. Even if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I could see the distrust and unease in her eyes. I can’t imagine what Maven has told her, but I know that he hasn’t spoken to her since before the Sun Shooting. It is our only advantage right now, that and the fact that Julian and I were the ones to get her and Kilorn out of the cells below the palace. It doesn’t hurt either that by the time we got down to the cells, the king was more concerned with his son almost dying than the rebels trapped in the cell before him. There had been no time for the interrogation that I know almost cost Farley her arm. She got off easy, too easy, because of us.

Whatever battle she is fighting with herself ends, and she steps to the side to let us pass.

(////)

Narcery is more disheveled than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already seen most of it repaired and turned into a decent city again years from now. Or maybe it’s because I’ve truly forgotten how downtrodden the world was before we began to right it. Either way, it’s hard not to grimace as we slink through the streets toward the café Farley stomps toward.

The Reds in the doorwards gasp and whisper as Cal passes, and I reach down to grip his hand. None of them are New Blood that I know of, but if someone gets it in their head to finish was Farley started, they won’t make it more than two steps.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the crumbling doorway of the café and into the dimly lit space. In his little booth, Kilorn practically almost leaps to his feet, his eyes wide while his hand flies to the gun on his belt.

“Stand down.” Farley orders smoothly, earning a frown from my friend. He doesn’t immediately listen, but his fingers eventually relax and drop back to his side. I release the tension in my shoulders in response. The air in the room shifts with the change in heat and static that Cal and I bring, but the ice in Kilorn’s gaze might as well be tangible too.

“And why haven’t we shot him?” He asks Farley as she drops into the booth.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him and glares in our direction. Cal’s bracelets clink against the dusty table as she sets them out in the open. With a tilt of her head, her expression relaxes and the nasty scar cutting through her lip softens. It never ceases to amaze me how young she really was when this all started. We were all still just children, playing games we never should have.

“They want to speak,” she says, her eyes dropping to our entwined hands. “And I have to admit I am curious what excuse Mare will give to explain blowing our entire operation to pieces.”

“We hardly blew it to pieces, you were almost completely successful.” Cal huffs behind me, and I dig my elbow into his side in response. No use pissing off Farley, or enticing her to pull that gun out again. We both know she will too.

Glaring at Cal for his comment, I address the other two sitting in the booth. “Maven gave you Cal’s name, but he was not the original target.”

“No,” Farley agrees, “he wasn’t.”

“It was Ptolemus Samos.” I turn my eyes back to her, and am rewards with a quirked brow, the only sign she is surprised by my knowledge. Kilorn is not as good at hiding his emotions. His brows dart up towards his hair line as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You missed that meeting, the one where he gave us the original names! He told us that he never told you them... you can’t possibly have known—”

“I know because I’ve already been through that shooting before. You don’t get Ptolemus that time either.” I step forward and leave Cal behind me, safely in the line of my body. If Farley wants to shoot him at any point in time, she’ll have to shoot me first. “The Sun Shooting was a disaster that time, and it was a disaster this time.”

Kilorn blinks at me, confusion sweeping over his face now. Farley is simply more skeptical, and rightfully so. I didn’t exactly explain anything, just created more questions and puzzling conclusions for her.

“What are you getting at Barrow?” She murmurs as her eyes dart to the broken window behind me. I don’t dare look at who might be there. If its Shade, I will never be able to leave these ruins.

“You have to promise to listen to us, to let us explain as quickly as possible.” Cal speaks for me and the heat that rolls off of him washes over me as he steps closer, soothing tense muscles I bunch in preparation to run. His hand presses into my lower back only a second later. “We don’t have much time.”

Farley’s eyes narrow even further as she takes in how we stand next to each other, and how we remain close enough to protect the other at all times. Even if Maven told her that I was slowly teetering toward Cal, our body language suggests a deeper relationship and understanding of each other than could ever be established in a few weeks. Not to mention Cal knew her name, her real name. There’s no way in hell he could have found that out on his own.

“Who are you?” She asks quietly after a moment, earning a worried glance from Kilorn.

My lips curl into a slow smile as I take in her uncertainty. I can’t remember the last time Farley was on the backfoot. She has always been so headstrong and driven, but she reels back now, like a horse seeing a snake under its hooves. “We’ve all met before, and known each other for years.”

“Bullshit.” She says, pushing to her feet and advancing on me. Cal’s fingers curl around my arm to pull me behind him. I stand my ground though and raise my chin as she stand over me.

“How’s your dad? The Colonel? Has that eye healed up yet?” I ask with a quirked brow. Her breathing fluctuates at the mention of him while she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes dart to Cal as if to assess how much he reacts to my words. He does nothing but glance down at me and drop my arm, catching on to what I’m doing. Farley won’t be bought over with a cute story like what we told Julian and Sara. She will need cold hard evidence, painful evidence if need be.

“It’s kind of cute that you decided your code name would be lamb, since his is ram.” I tilt my head to the side, earning an strangled inhale as she backpaddles. “Even more so given how infuriating he can be for you.”

Her whole face goes red, and tips of her ears tinge pink immediately. Kilorn opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. I don’t blame him, the fury in Farley’s eyes is enough to burn me to the ground.

With her lips pressed into a firm line, she presses her shoulders back to stand to her full height. “Are you Command?” She asks stiffly, her eyes roaming over me and settling on Cal when he barks out a dry laugh.

I elbow him again and shoot a glare, but he laughs at my expression. Turning his amusement on Farley, he says, “no. I’m not even on the list of people they would open a position for.”

“We know those in Command though.” I shoot a single spark into Cal’s arm to shut him up, making him snap back and rub the spot.

“I don’t believe you. Its not possible.” Farley growls setting her hand on her gun.

“I would appreciate you not drawing that gun Diana.” Cal warns his amusement dying as fast as my comfort with the situation.

“Who told you my name.”

“I know it from previous experience.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible.” Kilorn grumbles before rising from the booth as well. His eyes dart between the two of us, and as he starts to form his own opinon the curiosity in his eyes bleeds away into brittle resentment.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for years.” I push past my locked jaw. This is starting to look next to impossible but if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the disaster to come, then we have to get them to listen to us.

“To be more clear, we will know each other for years someday.” I correct my previous statement quietly, letting the words hang in the too heavy air for a few seconds. Farley quirks a brow, realization crossing her features as she starts to put things together. She’s always been quick as a whip, and that works to our advantage.

Right when I think she’s about to say something though, she laughs. Kilorn blinks at her, taking a hesitant step away. I doubt he’s ever heard the sound, but I know it well. It still cracks on the edges the same way it does in the future. Honestly, it always sounds like she never laughs, even though I know for a fact she does that more than anything someday.

“Barrow, I have seen what you can do. And while it turned everything I knew about the world upside down… you cannot expect me to also factor some form of time travel into this whole mess.” She shakes her head, and dismisses me with a wave. Still laughing to herself she sinks down into the booth, and takes to fiddling with Cal’s bracelets. There is a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes though, and I know exactly who and what she is thinking about.

“There are hundreds—thousands like me Farley. You haven’t met all of them yet, but there are abilities far stranger than mine. My brother’s for instance.”

Her expression pulls tight for a heartbeat before she smoothers the emotion. I pull on that line though, and step forward, pointedly ignoring Kilorn who is still gapping like a fish and trying to come to the same conclusion as Farley. “I know he’s alive, and that he’s here with you. He jumps, appearing in different places in seconds. I make lightning. There will be a New Town girl who becomes our friend that can kill you with a thought and silence Silvers in the same way. There are three other Reds just like me in Montfort. There is a girl who can bathe everyone in a bubble of silence so no one outside of it can hear you. Another woman can remember every single thing she reads or that is said to her. Another older woman can change her face to be whoever you need her to be.” My heart squeezes at the memory of all the Ardents I rescued and then sent to their deaths. I promised them safety, security, and then pulled all of that away from them. All because one man told me I had to do it. “Is it so hard to believe then that there is someone years from now who can send people back in time?”

Those diamond eyes snap to me and look me over before Farley’s lips twist into a half sneer. “Your brother is dead Barrow, he was executed for—”

“Farley, please.” I whisper, coming to stand over her. Even sitting she is almost as tall as me, but I channel every ounce of military prowess she tried to teach me as I glare down at her. “If I walk out of this room, I will find him in less than an hour, and you will feel incredibly stupid when I do.”

Her lips pale as she pushes them together, tighter than ever before. Her eyes dance to Cal beyond me again, who has thankfully kept his mouth shut this whole time and has decided to simply sit on the edge of a table to watch us.

“He came with me.” I soften my tone and slowly sink down into the seat opposite her. Her eyes follow me like a rabbit would a wolf. Her fingers are cold when I take them, even with how warm it is in the room. She doesn’t pull away though, and I wonder if somewhere, her future self recognizes my touch. “I need you to trust us. I know how hard that is with everything that has happened, but Farley you have to.”

“Do we win?” She asks the question so quietly, I almost miss it while I’m speaking. Every muscle in body tenses against the truth that wants to escape though. I glance at Cal, wondering if he heard the same thing as me. He simply looks down at his boots, unable to offer any aid.

Swallowing past the rock in my throat, I look down at the table top. It’s dusty and cracked in some places. But it has no answers either. We have already done so much to destroy the path we were supposed to be on, what was one more change? “Yes,” I whisper and her eyes flash bright and wide.

“But we pay may terrible prices for it.” The last part almost doesn’t make it out. Shade’s death tries to claw that statement to ribbons, Archeon burning, and all the people we lost in the Harbor Bay siege and the final Archeon siege weigh heavy against my chest. The silence stretches to the breaking point around us as those memories consume me. I wish I could take back those words, swallow them and refrain from admitting to what I’m sure she suspects. She must read the memories as they pass across my face because her expression softens a hint.

“Its war Barrow,” the Farley I know so well comes to the surface when she switches her grip to grab my hands instead. “I never expected to win for free.”

She narrows her eyes at Cal then, who simply gives her a tight nod she doesn’t return. “I still don’t like you.” She announces a second later. “And I hope I never do.”

“You give me a hard time for years, I promise you that much.” He teases, some of the light returning to his eyes. I crack a weak smile at their banter, even though I ache at the reminder of the future relationship they share. Farley never does let him off the hook, and every chance she has to remind him of his past, she does. I don’t blame her though, she never lets herself get too congenial with anyone.

“We trust him… just like that?” Kilorn tries to burn a hole between Cal’s eyes with his glare. He doesn’t succeed, especially when Cal smirks at him and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s the picture of ease, and I know that drives Kilorn insane.

“Relax Kilorn,” I tease, and then beckon Cal over to me. “He knows that if he steps out of line I won’t hesitate to put him back in his place.”

Farley glances between the two of us before saying, “So the second prince wasn’t lying. You two are…”

“In this together.” Cal finishes for her. His eyes narrow at what Maven might have inferred even as he looks down at me for confirmation.

“We don’t have time to get into details,” I add, making room for him in the booth as I lean forward to start drawing a map of Archeon in the dust on the table. “Maven and his mother know what we know. Which means they have been pulling the strings and trying to sabotage any advantage we have. They will not hesitate to wipe the Scarlet Guard off the map this time around.”

“I don’t understand.” Kilorn grumbles and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I thought we trusted that prince?”

“Maven is the one we have to worry about.” I finish drawing the bridge and narrow my eyes at the crude drawing. “He was always going to betray us.”

“How?” Farley sneers, obviously not happy with me inferring that she made a mistake in judgement. Maven was her recruit after all. “He’s given us names, information.”

“All fed to him by his mother, who is counting on us tomorrow night staging a coup and failing so that she can murder the king and remove you and any true Scarlet Guard opposition.” I murmur and watch as Farley’s fury melts into horrible understanding. My stomach drops but Cal speaks before I can.

“He’s already spoken with you and made the plan.” His voice is cold, even while the space around us starts to burn with the heat he releases. My own lightning wants to be unleashed as well. It takes more effort than I like to reign it in. I was wrong. He did speak with her, about more than just me and Cal.

“He said Barrow would try to come to me and change my mind, that I had to know she was in collusion with you and planned to stand by your side when the time came. That she would ultimately betray me.” Farley breathes, her eyes widening. “He said that the coup was the only way we would win, remove you two in one swoop.”

“He and Elara were counting you believing him wholly and me not bringing Cal.” I growl, and swipe my hand through the map on the table to erase it. The plan is useless at this point. Maven already took it and molded it to his needs. I should have never spoken to him on the barge, maybe I should have just continued to pretend I was some stupid girl that didn’t know how to play the game. I may have destroyed any hope we had of beating him and Elara now.

“They also aren’t counting on us having any other plan. Or my support.” Cal murmurs before drawing his own map in the dirt. The angle is far different from what I drew. “They don’t know that I know the future or that I am with you all. They think Mare is the only one.” His finger moves through the dust and Kilorn finally edges closer to see what he draws.

“So we play into their hands.” He murmurs as he glances at me for my support.

“What?” I wheeze as I watch him draw the same offensive we instigated last time. “Cal, if we do that—”

“Then it all goes the way it did before, with the added benefit that when you get captured this time, we can stop Elara. We know what’s coming and we can plan for it.” Cal finishes drawing his map before drawing a second more detailed map of the Whitefire next to it. “This time, we won’t be alone in that room.”

I struggle to keep up with his thought process, trying to determine exactly how he plans to make this work. The only way Farley and the other Scarlet Guard members will make it into that room is in shackles like me. Elara will slaughter us all like pigs then.

“The tunnels run under Whitefire right?” He asks Farley who hesitates for a second before nodding tersely. He etches a few makeshifts ones into the picture and then sits back to say, “when I take Mare captive for treason, you and a small unit will move through the tunnels and get to the throne room. From there, you wait for a signal Mare and I will give. When that happens, we take Elara and Maven.”

“Bold.” Farley murmurs as she glances over the plan. “And suicidal. We’ll never make it in.”

“You will if I don’t station anyone at a specific entrance. Name it, and I will keep the regiments away from it.” Cal waves his hand over the picture and glances forlornly in my direction. “If it fails, we still go to the Bowl of Bones, but this time we’ll know what to expect.”

My heart pounds in my chest as the memory of the too thin sand shifting beneath my feet almost overtakes me. Even though it is years behind me and days ahead of me, the heat of Cal’s fire trying to catch on the sand still burns my cheeks and my stomach twists at the echoing sound of the bar punching through Arven’s chest.

“In the meantime, you need to evacuate Tuck.” I whisper forcing the bile down as I look up at Farley. She blanches at the command, but I narrow my eyes to silence her. “Elara has seen in my mind. She knows about Tuck, she knows about a number of other Scarlet Guard strongholds like Narcery too. Did you not find it strange that Maven was not afraid to travel to a supposed heavily radiated place?”

She opens her mouth to argue with me, only to shut it like a trap and narrow her eyes. The thought never occurred to her, and I understand why. He probably got on the Undertrain and immediately started spilling honey and poison in her ear until she couldn’t even hear herself think. I can’t blame her for anything, he did the same to me, and I lapped at it like a starving child.

“Where will we go?” Kilorn whispers anxiously, his eyes darting to the street outside, as if a regiment might come marching down it right now. I don’t blame him. My friend is brave, always has been and always will be, but a Silver regiment is no laughing matter to him yet.

Cal stiffens next to me and says, “Irabella is the only safe haven. Mare was never there, but I was.”

“Why—”

“I doesn’t matter.” I interrupt Kilorn, and lean forward to speak again. “You just have to trust us. Tell the Colonel you have reason to believe Tuck and a number of other bases have been compromised. That an informate you have high up in the palace you trust explicitly told you that. The Notch is not safe either.”

Farley’s eyes widen, and it is then I realize that the mention of that safe haven is what finally secures her trust. The Notch was her hiding hole. Not one her father came up with. Command might not have even known about it. If what Cal and I said was true, and we were her allies in the future, she may have taken us there at some point. I wish I would have been smart enough to start with the mention of it. We could have saved time.

“And you need to start finding the others like me.” I whisper, as I pull the book out of my jacket pocket and set it on the table. The cover gleams against the dusty surface of the table, and I almost can’t pull my fingers off of it. The fates of so many reside inside of it. Cameron’s furious expression flashes through my mind as I ordered her taken onto the Blackrun. I will not force her into anything this time though. I only hope I don’t have to rescue her from a prison though.

I slide the book to Farley and trail my fingers off the cover as I whisper, “Maven and Elara might already be on the hunt for the Ardents in here, but I circled the names of the people that we rescued together. He will target them first if he is going after them, so you have to beat him to it.”

She picks up the book gingerly before looking between us and saying, “you mentioned the Bowl of Bones.”

Cal smiles wearily but leans back with the poise of a general to say, “we won’t have to worry about it. We’re going to avoid that point all together.”

Farley’s fears are not soothed by Cal’s confidence, and I can almost see the spikes she wants to drive through his eyes. At least she nods though, agreeing with him for the time being. I can’t even begin to express the relief that courses through me as she puts the book in her own pocket and nods once more.

“Then we will go with your signal.”

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thatmultifandomhoe · 3 years

Text

Knitting You a Home - 8

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,731

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Talk of nightmares - discussion of Hybrid abuse - implied mentions of drinking, drugs, hybrid mills - abandonment - Underground fights.

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You weren’t expecting Namjoon to come home at a normal hour. To keep yourself busy after Luna headed out, you plated all the goodies you made and cleaned up the kitchen, softly humming the entire time as you refrained from baking any further.

When dinner came and went, you had curled yourself up on the couch. The blanket you were knitting was long enough to cover your knees, but it still had a long way to go. In the living room there were two large windows looking out the front yard, a picture-perfect view of the tall oak and evergreen trees that surrounded your neighborhood.

The sky overhead turned pink as the sun began its descent, washed out burnt orange lights streaked the sky until it reminded you of peaches. If Namjoon had been here, he’d find a spot outside on the grass and watch until the sky was overflowing with stars. By then the fireflies would be out and he’d want to stay, mesmerized as they sparkled on and off until you went out with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders and a teasing grin to try and coax him back inside.

The knitting needles had stopped clicking a while ago. You were so lost in thought that you set the project back in its basket and stood up, tugging your sweater around your body as you made your way over to the window.

In the summer the sun didn’t set until eight at night, dragging out the painted skies for as long as nature allowed for it. Glancing around the room, an old book sat on top of an end table, the cover flipped open to reveal thinly aged paper. It made you smile softly as you picked it up, flipping through it to find the small black typed letters of poetry written long ago.

He was such a lover of words, always amazing you with how wide his reading interests ranged from, to how he even viewed life and the world. After everything that he went through, he still spoke about the world like it was a gift.

Screaming echoed in the house as you shot up in bed, chest heaving as you threw back the blankets to hurry to Namjoon’s room. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but this wasn’t the first time he’s had the nightmares during his stay with you.

It had been over a month since the storm, and while Luna had said many times that they weren’t as over-packed at the Homeless Center, you didn’t have the heart to tell Namjoon that he could go back. At least here he had a bed – a real bed and not a cot – his own room, new and clean clothe,s and home cooked meals. Even if the Center wasn’t over crowded since the storm had long since passed, it would still be loud and crowded, the very things that Namjoon didn’t need right now.

Turning on the lamp on his night stand, you crouched over Namjoon to gently shake his shoulder. He was breathing heavily as he gripped the blankets underneath him, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and tears formed under his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks.

"Wake up Namjoon,” you called out, briefly scratching his ear as it twitched. “It’s just a bad dream hun, it’ll be all over when you wake up. I promise.”

He painfully cried in his sleep, body flinching when you touched him, but you didn’t stop trying to wake him up. It hurt to see him suffering like this and you knew, had he gone back to the Center, no one would have attempted to wake him once they realized this wasn’t a one-time occurrence.

“It’s gonna be okay Namjoon, you just gotta wake up.”

It took a little more coaxing on your part, but with one final shake Namjoon gasped as his eyes opened wide, searching around the room until they landed on you. He didn’t look away and he didn’t rip his arm away, a positive sign in your book since he had been doing that the previous times you woke him from a nightmare.

He never told you about the nightmares. Instead, he simply apologized and said to not worry about them. There was just one problem, you did worry. You worried because you knew that whatever was haunting him had been happening for years and every morning afterwards, there were dark circles under his eyes.

You worried because over the course of the last month, you’ve grown to care about Namjoon.

The clock on the nightstand said it was three a.m. Knowing that you weren’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, you straightened so you were no longer leaning over Namjoon and let go of his shoulder.

“Want some tea?” You gently asked, realizing that the two of you had been staring at each other without speaking, long enough to make your cheeks blush.

Namjoon glanced at the clock too, momentarily coughing into his hand as he tried to catch his breath. You weren’t expecting him to say yes, he declined each time you previously offered after his nightmares. Knowing that, you still asked because a part of you hoped that one day, he’d trust you enough to open up to you.

“Sure,” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

Your eyebrows lifted in shock, surprised that he had agreed. You didn’t let that deter you though, instead you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Come on out when you’re ready.”

Namjoon nodded once and you left shortly afterwards, closing the door behind you to give him privacy. Internally, your heart was leaping around, happy that he was appearing to come out of his shell, even if it wasn’t in the greatest circumstances.

Once you reached the kitchen, you moved out of habit, used to making late night drinks for Luna, but when you reached for the tea, you hesitated. You didn’t know what type Namjoon liked to drink. He only ever had coffee in front of you.

Leaving the orange mug empty for now, you prepared yours with instant coffee, knowing that it wouldn’t impact your sleep. As the hot water poured into the mug, you rifled through the tea bags you had, fingers pausing on one labelled Chamomile. Luna tended to favor this one when it was an especially stressful night, claiming that it helped calm her down.

Namjoon’s cries echoed in your mind and the next thing you knew you were plopping the tea bag into his mug and pressing brew for the hot water to dispense. If he didn’t like it, there were plenty other teas for him to choose. Leaning back against the counter, you softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent against the hardwood floor.

He glanced at the Keurig behind you, eyebrows scrunching up as he tilted his head at the smell. You didn’t recall making this one since he’s moved in.

“It’s Chamomile,” you softly explained, watching as his feet shuffled closer to the table. “It’ll help you relax. I thought you might like that after your nightmare.”

The corner of his lip twitched and a faint smile became visible. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now.”

Hearing the Keurig finish, you turned back around to retrieve his mug, grabbing him a spoon and the honey bottle as well. “You’re gonna wanna dunk the bag a couple times,” you suggested, placing it in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the honey and you shrugged as you retrieved your coffee before sitting across from him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked it sweet or not.”

“Thank you,” taking the honey, he poured a small amount in and stirred, carefully avoiding hitting the sides of the mug. “I…I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I know things haven’t been easy for you.”

“But you didn’t have to help me.” He spoke, holding his mug in both hands. “You didn’t have to offer up your guest room, or be patient with me and share your meals, but you did.” Licking his lips, he raised an eyebrow at you. “And you didn’t have to let me stay this long. The storm ended weeks ago and the Homeless Center isn’t as chaotic, but you haven’t even mentioned that.”

Your eyes widened, feeling caught in the act when he softly smiled before taking a sip out of his drink. “How?”

“Luna called while you were away at work on day. She was wondering why you hadn’t told me that I could go back.”

Damn technology, you thought, shrugging as you tried to hide your embarrassment by pulling your knees up on to the chair and to your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked. Lowering his mug, the spot between his eyebrows furrowed as he patiently waited. “Why didn’t you tell me to leave?”

A part of you wished you were able to play dumb and pull it off, to coyly act like you had no idea what he was talking about. Namjoon would know immediately though. His ability to pick up on your emotions hadn’t gone unnoticed in the time he’s lived with you.

The words escaped you for a moment, so you shrugged once as you tried to form the right thing to say. It only lasted a few seconds, because when you met his gaze, it flowed naturally. “I didn’t want you to leave,” you found yourself telling him, unable to say anything but the truth.

He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his seat as the silence took hold again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. You didn’t mind it, figuring he was assessing your emotions to find the truth in what you said.

As he gathered his thoughts, you rubbed a hand across your eyes in an attempt to ease the headache from lack of caffeine.

“I told Luna it was better for that little Hybrid to be abandoned now because it’s true. It’s a shitty thing to experience when you can remember it.”

Tonight, was perhaps the most that you’ve heard Namjoon speak, and you were surprised with where he was directing his attention towards. Ideas swirled around with what he was talking about, about where this was going to lead, but you remained quiet as you focused on him, allowing him to speak at the pace he wanted to go at.

Namjoon ran his thumb around the rim of his mug, taking a deep breath. “I’ve lost track of all the owners I’ve had. There hadn’t been as many when I was younger, but as I grew up, grew bigger and taller, I got sent back to the Adoption Centers until one day, one of them got lazy and dropped me off at the Homeless Center. I was maybe, fifteen then.”

“Even with all the constant changes, I always knew I was a Hybrid. None of my owners ever let me forget that. They put me in small rooms, sometimes I didn’t even have a room but a closet or a mattress on the floor.” Lifting his gaze, he gestured around the kitchen with a bittersweet smile. “Everything in this room alone, to be able to have a cup of tea and not be afraid of the consequences, was once a dream for me. Still is sometimes.”

Shifting in your seat, you set your cup down on the table, having lost interest in the coffee that you usually loved. Because you were watching him, you were able to see his fingers tighten briefly.

“It was bad,” he simply said, not meeting your gaze this time. “There’d be days where I wasn’t allowed to eat, where I was expected to clean up after everyone and keep the house spotless and if I didn’t, well…sometimes not eat eating was better than their punishments. Almost forgot my own name with one owner. She only ever called me Hybrid.”

A rock settled inside your heart at what he was implying, and suddenly it made sense. The way he flinched at your touch, how you always had to encourage and reassure him that it was okay to eat and have more. Your eyes watered up and you bit down on your lower lip, unable to control the way your emotions seemed to fly around.

His ears flickered in your direction, finally looking at you again. He gave you a sad smile, leaning forward and shakily raised his hand, hesitating only once before running his thumb across your cheek. His touch was gentle but it only reinforced what you were thinking. How could anyone hurt someone as gentle as Namjoon?

“Don’t cry for me,” he whispered, doing it again to the other cheek. “It’s in the past, we can’t change what happened back then.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, leaning into his palm when he cupped your cheek, both drinks long forgotten as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch. He wasn’t done with his story and for some reason, you knew that it wasn’t going to get any better.

“My last owner wasn’t any different. Like the rest of them, he felt like he was entitled because he had money to waste, and thought he was better because he was human and I was a Hybrid. But unlike them, he participated in the Underground.”

Frowning, you almost leaned back to get a better look at Namjoon, but when your cheek stated to slide out of his hand you stopped, choosing to stay in his touch. “The Underground?”

He gently tapped your cheek with his thumb, slowly nodding. “There’s the good part of it, and then there’s bad side. The good is mostly known for the music and art scene, but that’s not what most people think of. The Underground is mostly known for its bad side; the drugs, gambling, the Hybrid Mills and such, but everyone just calls it by one name since the lines blur together.” Namjoon shrugged, still rubbing your cheek as if to keep you calm. “One of the popular events are the fights, and as long as I was able to stand on my own two feet, he had me in them every night.”

You may not have known or understood what the Underground was, but with a little thinking it didn’t take long to understand what Namjoon meant.

“I was big and as a Wolf Hybrid, I had an advantage over some of the others. We…none of us wanted to fight, but if we didn’t, the consequences were worse than had we just lost.” Sighing, Namjoon lowered his hand from your face, his gaze falling to the floor once again as his shoulders slouched.

“My last fight had been against a kid, barely even eighteen and shaking. The crowd was screaming and whoever his owner was was threatening him…all I could do was stare at him, wondering who the hell I had become. For a split second I had considered it, it would have only taken one punch, and immediately I was disgusted with myself. The fact that I had even thought about it made me realize that I was no better than the human who owned me.”

You blinked as your mind resurfaced from the memory, pulling your fingers from the book cover as you stumbled backwards. Even now, there was still an ache when you thought about the life that Namjoon had been forced to live, the things he had to do to survive until he was able to escape. It had been a damn miracle that he ended up at the shelter that Luna worked at and she had called you when that storm came in.

Sighing, you plopped back down on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping to ind on a show that could manage to keep you awake for the next several hours.

Please Joonie, you thought, gently laying a hand on the Mate Mark that you treasured and wore with immense pride. A life with Namjoon was what you wanted, what you still wanted, but it was starting to feel like the two of you were heading in two different directions and all you wished for was to find the spot where things began to change. But you could only go so far, do so much, by yourself.

Please come home. Please.

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cakejots · 3 years

Text

this is us trying, Chapter 10 - The Epilogue

In this AU, they don’t know each other outside of the suit. And in this AU, Ladybug and Chat Noir love each other. But in this AU, Chat doesn’t want their identities revealed.

Written for @ladynoirjuly 2021

notes: the last chapter consists of the last 2 prompts

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10

Read on AO3

30. Rose

Chat was down on one knee, a palm placed right on top of his heart, and presenting something red to her.

A rose. It was something she hasn’t seen much ever since the final battle, minus the time of the reveal because that was special, but it really has been a while since he last held out a red rose to her.

And he was down on one knee in a very public area. Parisians were watching.

“Chaton, what are you doing!” She spoke through gritted teeth, which just made her seem like she’s smiling with her white teeth.

“A display of affection!” A shit-eating grin sat on his handsome face.

Ladybug made a noise. “I can see that! And it’s very sweet of you, but right here?!” she yelled in a whisper.

“I think Parisians need an update that we’re officially together meow.” His smile grew wider.

And she finally caught on. It has been at least 6 months since she proposed her stupid idea of patrolling around when they were actually dating. But ever since they’ve gotten together, they patrolled, really patrolled, around Paris.

So an update they’ll give. Ladybug walked over to Chat and took the rose from his hand to give it a long sniff. Chat stood from the ground and waited until she’s done before wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her closer. Ladybug giggled and snaked her arms around his neck, pressing her lips onto his. They heard the crowd around them cheering before they could get lost in the kiss.

They pulled back slightly, still looking at each other adoringly before they directed their attention to the crowd. Sure enough, phones can be seen in their hands. With pink cheeks, they posed for a few photos and said their thank-yous in response to their blessings. Ladybug and Chat Noir then made their way, hand in hand, to a nearby rooftop.

“You think that’ll bring an interview our way, my lady?”

“It’s Alya, Chaton. Once she catches wind of this, of course she will,” she ran her hand up their once-connected hold to his chin to scratch. “Her LadyNoir ship has finally sailed after all.”

“Our superhero ship name, huh?” He fluttered his eyes close, really enjoying it when she does that.

Ladybug stopped her ministrations gradually. “Mon Chaton, what’s the real reason for giving me a rose?”

Chat opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “I realised I haven’t given you anything ever since we became official, as our civilian selves.”

“A romantic at heart, huh?” She flicked his bell. “Thank you.”

He twinkled and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Anything for you, my lady.”

They made their way home after patrolling around for a while longer, and Ladybug de-transformed the moment the balls of her feet touched the floor. She gave Chat a quick kiss on the cheek before finding a suitable vase for the rose. A soft look reserved only for her sat on Adrien’s face as his eyes lingered on Marinette before she disappeared around the corner.

Marinette exited the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hands when she suddenly came to a halt. Adrien was down on one knee again, but this time, instead of a single rose, he held out a bouquet to her.

“Adrien?”

“Yes, my love?” His eyes were shining.

She blushed at the endearment. “Why am I receiving something from you again?”

“Can’t I shower my lady with gifts?” His pupils were dilated.

“You can, you absolutely can.” She placed her cup down on a nearby table and went to help him up before taking the bouquet from him. “And I’m not complaining.”

Marinette hugged the bouquet and brought it to her face before lifting her head, a smile on her face. “Thank you again, Adrien.”

Adrien leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m glad you like it, Marinette. Red suits you really well.”

“It’s really lovely.” Her cheeks bloomed and she sniffed it once again. “So… what's the reason?”

He brought a hand to his chest. “My lady, can’t I give you anything without you assuming I’ve an ulterior motive?”

She tilted her head.

“I can't hide anything from you huh?”

She gave him a sly smirk.

He released a short breath of laughter. “I would like to take you out on a date, as Adrien and Marinette.”

Her smirk turned into one of surprise. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”

It was his turn to be smug.

“Is this for an event or?”

“Just the two of us having dinner together.”

Marinette looked at the clock. “It’s not today, is it?”

“My lady, I would never.” He placed his hand on the small of her back to pull her in. “I know how important it is for you to have enough time to prepare.”

“Adrien! The flowers!” Her lips curved downwards as their bodies squashed the bouquet a little.

He chuckled, picking the bouquet from her arms and settling it down on the table where her cup sat before his arms rounded her waist, peering at her earnestly. “Is that a no?”

Marinette pulled him down for a kiss before smiling. “It’s a yes. Of course it’s a yes, you silly kitty.”

A day had passed since Adrien told her about the dinner date, and Marinette was currently in her home choosing the perfect outfit to wear for it. It’s her dream to date openly with her kitty, masks off. And now that she’s finally going out on a date with Adrien, she had to look her best for this special occasion.

The problem was, she had no idea which outfit was suitable for the date.

“Chaton, what will you be wearing for the date?”

Adrien was currently sitting on her bed admiring her vast creations of apparel as she dug through her wardrobe.

“Why, just a normal suit you’ll wear for dinner,” he smiled, knowing exactly what her dilemma was.

“Not very helpful, Chaton.” Her voice was muffled as she had the top half of her body shoved into the wardrobe to dig deeper. “Have you seen anything suitable from those on the bed?”

“I think any one of them is perfect, my lady,” the smugness on his face grew larger by the second.

“Chaton!” She whipped around and stomped her foot. “I really need some advice here.”

She’s so endearing even when she’s angry, can he get any luckier? “And I’m giving you legitimate advice, anything here is stunning.”

Marinette made a strangled noise. “Okay, fine then. Where are we eating?”

“It’s a secret, Buguinette,” he winked.

“Adrieeen!” She whined. “Okay, okay, calm down Marinette. Just think logically. Your boyfriend loves spoiling you, so it’s reasonable to think he’ll bring you to a nice and classy restaurant…”

She glimpsed at him, and he just smiled.

Marinette groaned. “As dreamy as you are with that smile, it’s not really helping me with my predicament here.”

“Marinette, it’s like I said earlier, any—”

“—one of them is fine,” she finished his sentence. “Yeah yeah, I’m painfully aware.”

She activated her kitty eyes. “May I know the colour of your suit at least? Please, Chaton?”

Adrien was offended. How dare she use his own weapon against him. And it worked so well. It’s no wonder Marinette can never say no.

“N-N—”

“Pleaseee!” She made herself look even cuter than before.

Man, it sucked to be the receiving end of it.

“Oh alright,” he gave up, “I’m wearing black.”

He was tackled onto her bed in an instance. “Yay! Thank you, Chaton! Now I can narrow down the number of outfits to choose from!” She flashed him a genuine smile.

Maybe he should’ve just let loose some facts earlier. Her happiness is his dopamine.

They walked through a hotel to get to the restaurant Adrien had in mind. Marinette still had no idea which one it was, but she was definitely right on him wanting to spoil her.

The walk was a long one, but she couldn’t find herself complaining. With no one else around but themselves, it indeed felt like they were in their own mini-world. Their hands were clasped together tightly, with Adrien rubbing his thumb soothingly on the back of her hand. Marinette had never admitted it but she really loved it and found it comforting when Adrien ran circles on her skin. She almost wanted to just push him into a corner and make out for a while given how private the moment felt.

But Adrien’s hand was starting to get clammy for some unknown reason, and she was about to call out to him when they suddenly stopped in front of a square mirror.

They looked so adorable together Marinette honestly wanted to snap a few pictures and keep them as cherished memories. It was their first after all. But before she did that, she directed her attention towards him to wait on him, except he was already looking at her.

“I would like to share a picture of us on my account?”

Oh.

His forehead had beads of sweat. And his hands were still damp.

Oh.

“I don’t see why not?” She dug her purse for something. “My face’s already on your account, no?”

“You are, and the public has been very accepting of our relationship as of late.”

She brought tissues to his face. “Then why are you sweating so much?”

Adrien let her dab the sweat off his face. “I was worried you’ll see it as me trying to give you exposure through my account.”

“Well, seeing that you said any outfit of mine was stunning enough, isn’t it?” She smiled.

He winced when she acknowledged it. Yet, she kept smiling.

“But…?”

“It’s your account,” she booped his nose with her finger. “You decide what goes on it.”

Relief flashed across his face.

“Besides, there’s only so much I can do to get my designs out there.”

“So—”

“Yes, I don’t mind it. And I really really want to keep memories of this night.” She turned both of them towards the mirror. “Just look at us! We look so cute together!”

Adrien laughed as he stepped behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. “As my lady wishes.”

Marinette took out her phone, getting ready to take a few photos. Her hand enclosed his as Adrien bent a little to kiss her temple, and she captured the image of them in the mirror.

She swiped through to find the one which had them both looking the best. “How’s this for your account?”

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed as he placed another kiss on her cheek.

“And you look charming,” she giggled. “Now let’s take cute and silly pictures together!”

Marinette escaped from his arms to stand beside him and posed.

He chuckled. “Buguinette? Our dinner?”

“Yes, I’m hungry too. So hurry up!”

31. Pound it

“Buguinette,” Chat called out.

“Chaton,” Ladybug replied.

He smiled at her attempt to be kittenish.

“The interview with your friend Alya is this Friday,” he detailed.

And she confirmed. “Indeed it is.”

“And I was thinking…” he drawled.

“And you were thinking…” she rephrased.

“Can you formally introduce Alya to me?”

Ladybug blinked in surprise before her smile returned.

“You want to get to know my friends,” she stated.

He nodded. “Indeed I do.”

“I can do that. But…” she hummed.

“But?”

“Why don’t we go on a double date with Alya and Nino?”

Chat tilted his head. “Nino?”

“Alya’s boyfriend and my childhood friend!” She puffed her chest proudly. “I’ve a feeling you’ll be best buds!”

Ladybug suddenly had her back flat on the rooftop, a certain cat had tackled her into lying down and he was rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Thank you, my lady! Thank you!”

She patted his head. “Of course, mon Chaton.”

Chat let her go and hovered above her.

Ladybug brought her hand to his cheek. “Your eyes are sparkling.”

“Of course they are!” He grabbed her wrist and smiled. “I’ll have two new friends at the end of the double date! Two!”

“You so sure,” she chuckled.

He kissed her palm. “They must be as awesome as you are, so yes.”

“Well then, we better finish up with patrol soon!” Ladybug pushed herself up. “So that I can call Alya as soon as we arrive home!”

They had collectively decided on a game night at the Agreste mansion. And since Adrien didn’t have the dancing video game Alya and Nino love playing, Alya will be bringing that game over so that they can all play together.

Adrien and Marinette were in charge of providing dinner for them all, and Alya had suggested ordering some delivery. Adrien, aiming to be a good host, wanted to cook but Marinette assured him that calling for delivery would suffice.

Now that preparations for the game night were done, all they had to do was wait for their friends’ arrival. Still, they were taking a while to get here, since it’s a workday after all. Marinette suggested playing some video games to pass time, and they were back in his room again.

Maybe they got bored of playing the same video games. Maybe they got tired of waiting for their friends and were beginning to get restless at their tardiness. Whatever it was, Adrien and Marinette were currently making out on his bed. Their hands grabbed any body part they could get hold of, and their lips wet from all the kissing and biting.

It had started out like any other kiss they had had, until Adrien got cheekier and started nibbling on her lower lip. The mewls she let loose spurred him on and he bit down and pulled. Marinette moaned and released her hold on his neck. Her brows furrowed as he caressed her cheek and tasted his lips, a smirk sitting on his face; warmth burst forth within his chest at what he was able to do to her. She pushed him onto his back to straddle him, her fingers sprawled and glided across his chest, shoulders and neck, before reaching up to play with his hair. Marinette leaned towards his face, leaving butterfly kisses on his forehead, nose, lips, chin, jaw, and finally stopping at his ear. She started licking and grazing her teeth on his ear, giving it a nibble before moving down to his pulse to suck.

Adrien was quick to grab her face and brought her lips back to his before she could leave a mark.

“We’ll have guests over soon, Marinette,” he breathed over her lips.

“You didn’t seem to have that in mind when you bit my lips, Adrien,” she growled and gripped his hair hard. Adrien groaned and Marinette’s tongue traced over his lips before sliding into his mouth. It felt around, eager to roam and discover each and every corner it could reach. Adrien breathlessly drank her onslaught, enjoying her strawberry flavoured lips and the thrill that was coursing through his being. He hummed as his hands clutched onto her hips as tightly as they could, and she licked his lips once more before biting down on his lower lips to pull and suck.

Adrien moaned in approval and Marinette smirked at his reaction. When he finally realised what he had just done, he opened his eyes to see his lover’s face full of smugness. But it didn’t last long as she was flipped onto her back.

“Two can play this game, Marinette,” he grunted and devoured her lips. His hand interlaced with hers, bringing them above her head while the other caressed her cheek. Marinette felt herself trembling and whimpering as he continued to kiss her vehemently and his hands caressed her body as it went down her neck, down the side of her chest, down her waist before travelling under her shirt to brush her ribs tenderly. Adrien’s mouth ghosted over her burning cheek to the side of her face and nipped her ear. She gasped and Adrien pressed his body into hers harder. Marinette felt hot all over, she wrapped her legs around his hips and twisted her core to sit on top of him once again. She wasted no time and went straight for his neck. The desire to one-up each other continued for who knows how long until Marinette’s phone rang.

They sprang apart for Marinette to answer her phone.

“Marinette? Are you not home? We’ve been ringing the bell for over a minute now,” came Alya’s voice.

Marinette was horrified, they got so carried away that they didn’t even realise the doorbell had been ringing that long.

She swallowed hard. “O-Oh! We must’ve f-fallen asleep or something! We’re coming to get you now!”

Hastily, she hung up and pulled Adrien out of the room, almost falling in the process. “It’s Alya! T-They're here!”

Adrien’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and they ran to the front door.

“Uhh,” Nino started, “are we interrupting somethi—”

“No,” Marinette answered before Nino could finish his sentence.

Alya snickered and snapped a photo.

Their hair was a mess, they had their cheeks ablaze, and lips red and swollen. Fierce red marks can be seen on their skins as well.

“Look!” Alya shoved her phone into Marinette’s face.

“I know how I look, don’t show me that,” she covered the screen with her hands and turned around. “Come on in.”

Alya looked at Adrien and smirked. “Don’t worry, Sunshine. I’ll send it to you later.”

Adrien crimsoned.

Marinette showed her friends where the game night would take place before heading to another toilet to tidy up. Adrien used the toilet in his room.

Both of them returned to the room, only to have Alya and Nino challenge them to a showdown.

Marinette knew Alya and Nino have been totally in sync ever since they got together. She wasn’t as surprised about their score as Adrien was; he was really impressed.

When it was their turn, Adrien stood and offered his hand to her. Marinette chuckled and took his hand, moving to the play area hand in hand.

Alya and Nino were shocked that they got a near-perfect score. After their ‘workout’, the four of them sat on the sofa and enjoyed their dinner.

“My little sis has finally found the one,” Nino wiped fake tears away. “Adrien, you’re a mec!”

Adrien beamed at the nickname Nino had given him, and Alya was really glad that Nino liked Adrien enough to call him ‘Mec’.

“Nino look!” Alya showed him the picture Adrien had of them on his account. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“Oh! Marinette, you finally gave him that scarf huh?” Marinette nodded. “See, there's nothing to worry about, Adrien looked like he really loved it, don’t you mec?”

Adrien’s smile faltered a bit, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Nino!” Alya whacked his forearm. “He’s not supposed to know that!” she whispered harshly.

“You’re worried that I wouldn’t like it?” Adrien looked at Marinette. Alya just smacked her forehead and Nino slapped his hand on his mouth.

“Uhh, yeah…” she admitted. “Honestly this was a huge gamble for me because I really didn’t know if scarves are even your kinda stuff.”

She held his hand. “But I’m glad you like it! Your reactions when you first saw it will forever be carved in my memory. And when I saw that you wore it on our first public date, I almost cried,” she laughed a bit.

Adrien placed his hand on the back of her head to bring her towards him, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I love it, Marinette, please don’t doubt yourself.” Then he whispered. “I hardly receive things from anyone, so really, I’m delighted I could even get anything from you.”

Marinette gawked at him and tackled. “You’ll be receiving tons from me from now on.”

Alya crossed her arms. “Mhm,” and nodded, “sickeningly sweet.”

“Man, you’re not wrong. I could really get diabetes from this,” Nino acknowledged.

Adrien sat up and Marinette let go of him, both had rosy cheeks, but they were still looking at each other.

“And has anyone scouted you yet, Marinette?” Nino waved to get her attention. “You said something about giving Adrien tons of gifts?”

“Shit. I totally forgot about updating you guys,” she scratched the back of her head. “There was a number and I’ve been discussing with Adrien to see which one is the most suitable before I reply to them.”

Adrien was gleaming and Alya and Nino were frowning but they just looked constipated because they were also delighted by the news she just dropped. And they spent the rest of the night congratulating Marinette and enjoying themselves: playing, eating, and talking.

And Adrien got two new friends.

The livestream of the Ladyblog had already started when Ladybug and Chat Noir suddenly dropped down onto the seats reserved for them.

“So you guys were making out and lost track of time?” Alya shot them knowing looks.

Ladybug and Chat Noir regarded each other and saw that their lips were redder than usual. Their cheeks were flaming and their hair was messier as well. They scarlet even more than Alya thought possible.

So much for looking prim and proper.

“Anyway, has my LadyNoir ship finally sailed?”

“If this,” Ladybug signalled to the both of them, “isn’t enough proof then I don’t know what else to tell you, Alya.”

Alya addressed the livestream once again. “Well, there you have it, folks! They’re official now!”

Ladybug beamed. “Wait, that’s it?”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” The sly smirk from before came back onto Alya’s face.

Her cheeks blazed and Chat took Ladybug’s hand to hold and caress, throwing her soft and loving gazes. “My lady.”

Ladybug smiled, remembering that they were in this together. “Alright, any questions you and the viewers of Ladyblog have, we’ll answer them.”

“Well, it was really beautiful to see your relationship grow from your first day till now,” Alya praised. “So, any plans to get married?”

Ladybug chuckled while Chat smiled broadly and answered. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“You hear that, viewers?” Alya squealed. “We’re going to have a miraculous wedding!”

She turned her attention back to them. “Any dates in mind?”

“That’s for us to decide and for you to find out in due time,” Ladybug returned.

Alya’s eyes glowed. “So we’re invited?”

Chat spoke this time. “We’ll see, Alya. We’ll see.”

“You guys are being vague here, is it a yes or a no?” She furrowed her brows.

“Thank you for your service all this while, Alya,” Ladybug added and gave her the best smile she could offer before clapping her hands. “Next question!”

They landed on the top of the Louvre Museum and made themselves comfortable, the interview playing on her bug phone.

“The comment section seems very ecstatic for us,” she grinned.

“I mean, didn’t you see, my lady? We’re ‘so cute together’, we’re ‘couple goals’,” Chat scrolled through the comments and twinkled. “I think they really are.”

“Bien joué ?” Ladybug smiled and brought her fist towards him.

He connected his fist with hers. “Bien joué !”

Chat saw her smirk, but it still didn’t prepare him for Ladybug’s unprompted endearment. He froze for a second before cupping her cheek and deepening the kiss.

The next day, a picture of their kiss on top of the Louvre Museum was submitted by an anonymous user to the Ladyblog, and it was the first thing one would see when they accessed the site. Ladybug and Chat Noir were extremely pleased that it was a very flattering image of them both, and they made absolutely sure to download the image for themselves, a reminder of how far they’ve come together.

#ladynoirjuly2021 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir #mesfics #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mlb fanfic #ladybug #chat noir #alternate universe #light angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #this is us trying

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minnochu · 4 years

Text

Lustrous (pt. 21)

Hybrid!Kook x f!Reader au

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19 | Pt 20 | Pt 21

Warning: Death and violence

(A/n): Cue more anticlimactic action <3 If you didn’t know, I’m going on a hiatus after this update to focus on this semester because it’s important to me, so hang tight! Much love for all the support and love as always <3

“I was getting a little bored you know? Especially when you just refused to be killed!”

The voice you’ve only ever heard in your dreams and memories, chilling and patronizing. It holds your attention captive, almost like a sweet lullaby.

Long ivory hair falling in waves, bright and healthy, a contrast to the dull darkness of her eyes. Irises like black holes, and yet they captivate any who look her straight in the eye. An enrapturing smile, and yet her expression seemed to look both angelic and condescending at the same time.

You don’t recognize the room you’re in, you were never allowed in the same room as Eris after your innate magic never manifested and you were deemed a mutant. If your mother was called for an audience with the head, she would always leave you outside her living quarters. If there were important assemblies or such, you were never allowed into the grand hall. You assumed you were blinked to the latter, daring to raise your head to eye the woman seated on the throne.

The manor never did scream dark-magic-is-practiced-here! It was more like a household worthy of angels or goddesses, if the latter existed. You held no doubt if anything and everything seemed to coexist in the human world now.

One would have expected her throne to be made of the bones of humans and animals that she sacrificed when a spell called for it, or the skulls of birds she devoured to reverse the expiration of her aging body. It was, however, an elegant throne, carved mahogany gilded with ivory just as beautiful as her silvery tresses. Seated atop a platform, the witch sat with one pale leg crossed over the other. She held herself with dignity and poise, her chin raised and eyes set downwards in a mocking way. Eris dressed herself like a queen, silky robes with a long train that lay in folds at her bare feet.

She regarded you with a hardened look, pressing her chin into her knuckles as you picked yourself up and stood. Dusting your uniform skirt off, you perk and regard the man standing at her side with nostalgia. Hickory hair, messy and falling over his eyes. His jaw tightened at your gaze, although his own seemed to focus just above your head. You wondered why. Was he suddenly feeling guilty for betraying his lover, your mother, and now having to face you and kill you soon? Maybe he was just ignoring your existence.

“It’s been quite a long time (F/n), tell me, how’s your mother doing?” Eris bemuses.

You scoff at that.

“Amazing, no thanks to you,” You spit back before shrugging, “I guess you’re getting a little old, your senile is showing, head witch.”

Dark eyes narrowed at your response.

“I see you’ve developed a rather sour mannerism, I don’t quite remember Minerva being that bratty. Was it that mutt who taught you that?”

“I’d like to call it the hard truth, old lady,” You continue, watching as she bristles at the name.

“Killing you is going to be so worthwhile,” She grits, eyes burning with annoyance, “I’ll make your annoying voice screech pitifully when I torture you just a little bit.”

The elder barely twitches and you sense the murderous intent only briefly as thorns emerge in tumultuous waves from the floor. You quickly flash your hand to create a glowing cube around your form to protect yourself from the crystals.

“Humor me a little, why don’t you (F/n)? It’s been years since your family’s seen you! Why not greet them instead of being so rude?” You hear Eris say as you degenerate the shield.

You waver momentarily when you find yourself surrounded by your old coven members; grown up faces of children you had once knew to bully you when you still lived in the manor, familiar elders who had looked at you and your mother with pity and disgust didn’t seem to age as much. They all held that familiar glare of contempt at your existence, some holding staves in their hands to control the conjuring of their spells.

Did you even have enough magic stored in your amulet to take on this many witches and warlocks? You can’t even remember the last time you siphoned from Jungkook or the others. For some reason, the former only ever allowed you to siphon from him. You weren’t sure why, but you often grew worried that it was draining for him to constantly be sucked of magical energy every so often. (Yoongi only ever laughed when you expressed your worry and reassured you he had plenty of magic left.)

Left and right, you raise crystalline shields, a purple hue emitting a dark aura, as you protect yourself from attacks from the others. You can barely get much of a hit when facing multiple threats from all around you. As you dodge and counter magical spells and skills, you catch the infuriating smirk on Eris’ expression.

She’s laughing at your predicament. She knows you’re bound to run out of magical source, and you can barely manage to siphon any from the other witches when they make an effort to keep their distance. There’s a greater number of them and only one of you, multiple attacks left you vulnerable if you tried to focus too hard on getting into someone’s close quarters and siphon their magic.

You’d have to thank Jungkook later, if you survived, for giving it to you hard. The weight of the magical projectiles, on the translucent layer of protection covering your body, didn’t seem to hurt no better than the wolf’s punches.

Pivoting on your heels, you nimbly dodge a thorn shot from the right of you, however another zipping by from behind nicks you on your side. Your uniform tears from the cut, blood seeping from the superficial wound on your torso.

You weren’t one for stamina, even if Seokjin sometimes made you run laps in the forest, but constantly having to run and dodge was wearing down your legs. You were starting to feel winded and you can sense your stone depleting rapidly.

Perspiration creates a sheen on your forehead, a bead rolling down your temple.

Survive? Was it possible to survive this alone? Would Jungkook come? The pack? Would they be able to find you?

You blew a cherry.

That was pathetic, to rely on them so much.

If you didn’t survive, you’d never hear what Jungkook wanted to tell you. You’d never be able to see him, or the boys.

The thought makes your heart clench as you dissipate in a flurry of stygian vapor. Reappearing, you make a grab for a witch’s arm from behind, your fingers barely manage to siphon a sliver of magic as you move to dodge another attack. In your state of distraction, the blast of condensed magical energy singes the lateral side of your bicep, burning away at the sleeve of your uniform.

Your chest twists painfully at the thought of no longer being able to wake up to Jungkook, in his large wolf form, curled protectively and warmly around your body. You would no longer sit at the chaos that was breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the pack. You would no longer be able to laugh alongside the three youngest and Hyejin at school. No goofy jokes with Jimin and Taehyung, and Jungkook breathing down their back for whatever reason. No lying on the grassy terrain of the backyard, limbs spread out like a starfish, with Jungkook in same position, after another one of Seokjin’s training sessions. No sitting out on the roof tiles when you go searching for the hybrid wolf, watching the stars alongside him.

Maybe you should’ve confessed sooner, instead of being scared by the idea that Jungkook was fated to someone that wasn’t you. The weight over your chest was becoming unbearable, you wanted to see him one more time and tell him again how he makes you feel safe and at home and how much you like even if he wouldn’t feel the same.

You couldn’t possibly survive this, right?

Were you going to have to resort to killing? They were your kind... but were they your family? Were they there to protect you and pick you back up like Yahiko and the pack? Were they worth sparing when they’ve turned your mother into a puppet? Were they worth letting roam free when they’ve put Yahiko and the boys in danger for being associated with you?

You glanced at Eris, smug as she watches you tire yourself. That meant becoming the people you hated, the same people who loathed you back. You wanted to be better than that, despite the growing rage and contempt building within your chest at your clashing thoughts.

Summoning the last bit of magic from your amulet, the glow of the stone resting on your chest flickering with the last bit of its life before growing dull and cold, multiple needle-like spears formed around you. You willed them in different directions, catching the coven members by their appendages. They weren’t fatally wounded, but you still winced at the thought of possibly killing someone still.

Eris seemed to notice the falter in attacks and defense, barely able to keep on your feet with the remaining coven members.

She snapped her fingers, a curved dagger materializing in her hand. Glossed lips curved deviously as she glanced at the blade.

“I guess I have to get my hands dirty after all, hm Colhen?” Eris sighs dramatically as she rises from her seat, not waiting for a response. Her feet tap on the marble as she steps down from the platform, walking gracefully towards you as you take a blow to your side. Compact, dark energy smashes into you, burning your skin and leaving a darkening, almost black imprint, as you’re thrown off your feet from the impact. You hit your shoulder hard on the marble, wincing at the white hot pain that shoots from the bone.

“I’m getting a little impatient, (F/n), every time I try to kill you… you just can’t seem to fucking die you know? A little annoying don’t you think?” She says, piquing your attention, smirking at the haziness in your weary eyes, barely able to glance up at her, “I meant to torture you, but there’s no fun when I don’t get the satisfaction of seeing that mutt fill with absolute terror and sorrow at your slow death. I’m also an impatient woman after all.”

Brandishing the dagger, she mocks an examination of its metal surface before glancing at you pitifully, “I meant to plant an assassin in the school to kill you with this blade, but I guess I’ll have the honor of killing you myself.”

This is it. You were done for. Was everything all for nothing after all?

Stepping close to your fallen form, the blade glimmers under the light of the chandelier as she raises her arm. You take one last breath, swallowing hard as she brings the edge downward and your eyes squeeze shut in preparation for your impending doom.

You had magic left, there was no protecting what was coming. This really was the end, huh?

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” She demands suddenly.

You don’t realize that you’re still breathing and alive as you open your eyes to Colhen knelt before you, arms stretched out at his sides to protect you. He gazes down at you fondly, relieved that he managed to protect you for just a while longer.

This was the man who your mother had fallen in love with, and the man who walked all over those feelings once it had been announced of your mutation. He held your mother and your existence with distaste. So why was he protecting you now?

“You… but I thought you hated me?” You gaped up at him.

He chuckles softly, “My own daughter? Never.”

There’s a certain warmth that sparks behind those eyes, the same eyes that only ever held disgust when directed at you. His eyes reflect repentance and adoration, regret and absolute love, both emotions that were foreign to you. Colhen never looked at you or your mother in such a way, so why? Why now?

“I made the mistake of hiding behind my own fear of being shunned and facing the reality of my actions... but I never stopped thinking about the beautiful little girl out there that I wish I could’ve protected,” His laugh makes your heart warm, “Allow me to be a proper father just a while longer.”

Eris is bristling behind him, fury burning in her eyes as she clenches her teeth at her husband’s actions.

“You betray me like this Colhen?! For a mutant?!” Eris sneers in disbelief, “Fine. If you dare disobey me like this, see to it that your efforts are in vain.”

Your father’s lips are moving but you can’t hear it, his mouth moving to form the words of a final apology and expression of his love for you. They all fall on deaf ears when you cry out as he looks up only in time to see the large thorn that appears from above, impaling him through his gaping mouth. The spear pierces the back of his throat and lodges into the ground with a thunderous crack of the marble. Smaller spears pierce him through his left eye, one at his hip, another straight through his chest cavity, blood pouring from the wounds as his hands hang limp at his sides.

“How could you!?”

Eris snorts, almost flabbergasted, “How could I? He was dumb to even protect trash like you.”

Long nails, sharp like talons, grip you by the throat, forcing you onto your feet on weak and unstable knees. Your hands fly to her wrists in attempt to siphon from her, but she anticipates this and uses two fingers to rip the necklace from around your neck. She smirks as she lets the amulet fall to your feet before forcing her heel down onto the stone, smashing it.

“A pitiful attempt,” she sneers, “This is the reason why I hate failures like you, you’re no better than thieves trying to use someone else’s magic, you’re weak and useless. There is no place you belong in this world for as long as I live as the head of the Blackwells.”

“Let’s finally put an end to this little charade of cat and mouse, yes?”

The doors to the hall are forced open just she forces the blade into your middle. Jungkook’s eyes wide and flashing gold and aqua in a fit of fury.

+Taglist

@twilight-loveer @reinyrei @mistytail @neinyasficrecs @xanny91 @unpocodesoledadywisky @xxqueenwxtchxx @lildemonangele @gukworld @sunnyoongles @serendipity-secrets @ilaria-np @jules-park @treetops68 @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @jeonkooksgirl @coffeeismylife28 @nshitae @bookoffracturedescapes @ellsbells72 @zamirayinyue13 @hannahdearr @tiredjedi @sushibunn @perrshian @lovinggalaxies @ditttiii @cookies-are-done @mintyrae @blackravena @lilacdreams-00 @fujinoye @moonlightjoonx @softescapism @gguks-love @crymesome-rice @lovelyseomin @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen

(Can’t tag in bold | If you’ve changed your user please lmk so I can correct it!)

((If I for whatever reason did not see your request to be added to the taglist, please lmk and I’ll make note for when I come back, or I’ll just add you so I don’t forget again lol))

++Omg also @crymesome-rice I forgot to tag you on the last update adjaljkgdl, but here you are, sorry about that!

#bruh im sorry if this is bad #i tried my best asjfalfja #i hope to be back in november!#lustrous #bts x reader #bts x hyundai #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfics #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook imagines #jeongguk x reader

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Little Kestrel (Part 11)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Over the course of the next three days of Virgil’s captivity, Virgil would come to the conclusion that his captors were idiots.

This thought flickered to life once again as Logan leaned into the closet to point out another constellation on the ceiling, tottering unstably on his knees as his weight shifted forward and distracted by his enthusiasm.

They were alone in the prince’s room. Patton had left only a few minutes before to help his mother in the kitchen (less because she needed help and more to prevent her suspicion about why he’d spent so much time away in the last few days).

He wouldn’t be back for a while, and Virgil had full mobility in the closet. With Logan leaning over the threshold like that, it would be easy to kill him or even just incapacitate him. One rough yank on his arm would have him completely in the closet. Virgil had no question that he could pin him down so he couldn’t activate the restraints, and even if he managed to do so, he’d have been drawn close enough that Virgil could use his legs. He could either force him to take off the cuffs or, since they automatically went to the second setting when he left the closet, just deal with it until he managed to get away. It would just be so easy.

Yet, he did not act.

He just watched Logan as he leaned stupidly over an assassin while info dumping about stars.

This was the first day that Virgil hadn’t felt at all tired when he’d drank the provided nutrition and healing potion, though it had never affected him quite as much as it had the first day. Logan said that meant that his injuries must be healed. It was a weird feeling. He didn’t remember when the last time was that he wasn’t damaged in some way. Even before his grueling training, there’d always been bullies at the orphanage and he’d been the youngest and smallest in his age group.

He was also more well rested and fed than he had been in as long as he could remember. He felt better than he knew was possible today, and he suspected that he would only feel better after a bit more time under their care.

He told himself that was why he didn’t lash out now. He was waiting until he was as strong as possible to make sure his escape went as well as it could, even if it was a risk. They’d mentioned that the king would be gone for three weeks. After he returned, Virgil would surely be turned over to people much more capable of actually keeping him well trapped and less likely to feed him well, give him a nice place to sleep, and leave him without injury. It was a gamble to stay, because it was possible that he wouldn’t find another opportunity in time and would get handed over to his fate. Really, if he was being reasonable, he should get out now while he felt good and had a secured opportunity.

Still, he did not. He had not any of the times they’d given him the opportunity in the last few days.

Logan finished his sentence and leaned back out of the closet to safety. He still was speaking though in that soft happy tone. Logan liked the stars. He liked to talk about the stars, and Virgil found he liked to listen to him. They tended to end up in this position whenever Patton was away, just talking as Virgil laid in the prince’s closet.

Eventually, Logan’s latest story tapered out. There was silence then for a few moments. Virgil stared up at the fake stars on the ceiling, the stars that Logan had made for him when he really did not have to. Virgil had not been expecting lights in the closet, let alone ones so beautiful and thoughtful. Not ones with stories behind them. Just days ago, if someone had told Virgil the prince would be keeping him in his closet for the next few weeks, Virgil wouldn’t have expected a blanket let alone all of this.

He turned his head to look at Logan. “What?” Logan asked.

“Your magic’s very beautiful,” Virgil said.

Logan seemed pleased by the complement, lighting up almost as much as the stars he’d made. “Well, it’s just a basic light spell,” he said, “though I did make some adjustments to them and the dimmer was a bit more difficult. Anyone could do it with practice.”

Virgil shook his head. “They’re special, I think,” he said. “Your magic’s different than most people’s.”

“How so?” Logan asked curiously.

“It’s gentle,” he said. “Gentle and warm, like eating the warm soup you fed me a couple of days ago.”

“And other people’s magic feels different?” he asked.

Virgil nodded. “I’ve met a lot of magic users, but it always felt bad. Usually it hurts or makes you feel sick or just makes you uncomfortable. Even healing magic always felt like bugs nibbling at my skin, but the potion you’ve been having me drink in the morning feels… safe. It doesn’t hurt or make me want to cry. It’s just good.”

“Magic often has much to do with the caster’s intentions,” Logan said.

“I think you could poison me gently.”

Logan made an odd expression. “That…” he said, nose scrunched. “That is a strange thing to say.”

Virgil cocked his head. “Is it?”

“Yes!” Logan said, shaking his head. “You are far too comfortable with the concept of death for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” Virgil argued. “That’s old enough to be sent on missions without a blood compulsion!”

“…A what?” Logan asked.

“A blood compulsion,” Virgil said. “You know, with a multrum.” Logan was frowning at him. “One works in your gardens and you’re a prince. You had to have at least seen one or two. They take a bit of blood and multrums process it into a little bead. Then you’ve got to do what your told or it hurts a lot.”

“I know what a blood compulsion is,” Logan said. “I am simply wondering who would put one on a fourteen-year-old.”

“They don’t,” Virgil said. “They stop putting them on people when they turn fourteen.”

“And exactly what is the age range for it?” Logan asked. Virgil was almost startled by the way his tone was quickly hardening. He’d never heard him be that harsh even when he’d first woken up in his custody. It made Virgil tense up.

“They take kids usually when they’re about 8 and it’s a year of training before you’re sent on a mission so 9-13,” he said.

“That’s horrible,” Logan spat so violently that Virgil flinched. Logan didn’t seem to notice. “They force children to kill under a blood compulsion?”

“Well, no one really wants to do it without one when they’re that little. They get scared, and usually try to chicken out so…”

“So, they torture them unless they kill someone.”

“I mean… it’s not. They have to agree to the deal.”

“And if they don’t agree to it?” Logan asked.

Virgil thought back to the second time they’d made him get a blood compulsion. It had been with the multrum before Janus, a girl by the name of Alina. He’d made the mistake of hesitating on his first kill and faced the consequences before finally giving in and doing the job. When the second mission had come around, Virgil hadn’t wanted to accept the blood compulsion.

That had been the first time they’d made him drink a binding potion. Logan seemed to be able to get an idea about it by the look on his face.

“So, your options were to be tortured, be tortured in a different way, or murder someone.” Logan looked at him. “You said your fourteen. Have you ever even killed of your own volition?”

“I… no,” he admitted, but quickly added, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“That explains a lot about your personality and reactions so far.”

Virgil rankled at that for some reason. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Logan just stared at him for a long moment. “What they did, what they are doing isn’t right, you know?” he said.

Virgil blinked at him but said nothing. He became more and more uncomfortable in the silence that ensued.

“Would you like to learn more about magic?” he asked. “There are many uses other than to hurt. I can teach you a few basics if you’d like.”

Virgil was confused about the topic change but was relieved about it. “Uh.” He thought. “Sure. That would be… interesting.”

Logan smiled at him. “I’ll set up something and we can work with it in the next few days. What would you like to learn?”

“Um, I have no idea. What is there?”

Logan considered it for a moment. “We could do a hair color changing potion. Or perhaps a small protection charm or I can teach you to make fire shapes.”

“Protection charm,” Virgil said without hesitation.

Logan gave him a sad smile. “Of course. I’ll start showing you how to make them tomorrow and we can actually make some the next day.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Would you like to hear more about the stars?” he asked. Virgil nodded. He once again leaned into the closet to point and Virgil once again did not move to attack. Nor did he attack when that afternoon Patton turned his back on Virgil for far too long when they were alone. Nor did he when they settled him into bed once again in the closet. He told himself it was strategic, but he knew it wasn’t.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #character thomas #adriana writes #little kestrel #birds of different feathers #implied/referenced child abuse #assassination attempt #knives #torture mentioned #captivity

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

discordance!verse part 8(2/2): there are consequences to their actions, consequences they can’t avoid.

in which wwx is lxc’s husband through political alliance, and there is an affair.

[8.1] | [7] | [6] | [5] | [4] | [3] | [2] | [1] [synopsis] OR

see [discau tag] or [discordance navigation page] for all installments

Both 8.1 and 8.2 are posted on AO3 Chapter 4

The verdict came at dusk.

Yinzhu, Madam Yu's handmaid and bodyguard, bows to Jiang Yanli, "Da-xiao'jie, Wei-gongzi's presence is requested."

Over at jingshi, a senior Lan disciple does the same. "Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun's presence is requested."

"Not to worry, A-Xian, we will go together."

"I shall go with you, Wangji."

"Da-xiao'jie -"

"Zewu-jun-"

"- the Elders request that he goes alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Wei Wuxian arrives at the Lan family's sacred ancestral hall, Lan Wangji is already there, kneeling alone before the altar, flanked by Gusu and Yunmeng's elders and their stern and silent gaze. He braves it without any signs of distress. His back is straight, his posture unbent and his spirit unbroken. Like him, Lan Zhan is dressed down in a plain white robe, no guan to hold up his hair, only a bare strip of white cloth.

To see him relatively well, Wei Wuxian releases the anxious breath he's been holding high in his chest. The last thing he remembers is passing out in Lan Zhan's arms in front of Songfeng Shuiyue. They were beating Lan Zhan with the whip…they were… And then Zewu-jun had arrived.

Of course Lan Zhan is fine. He is Hanguang-jun, Gusu's Second Jade, the second ranked cultivator of our generation…Lan Zhan is fine… he's fine…

Shijie tells him it's been seven days. Has it really? He wonders. Only just? Why does it feel like a lifetime has passed?

Eyes turn on him as he makes his first step into the abbey, and he's never more thankful for the potion the healers fed him pre-emptively than at that moment. He knows he must look a sight, as much as shijie has tried to clean him and make him proper. It could be so much worse; at least he is walking independently instead of being hoisted by disciples. The mixture of milk of poppy and cannabis extract dulls the fire burning along his back just enough for it to be bearable.

Shijie was none too unhappy that he has to trek all the way to the ancestral hall by himself, but Wei Wuxian is not so bothered. When one decides to bed one's husband's brother, it is only natural that one must prepare for the possibility that one's ass is going to get flayed. The situation as it is, his affair is a thing of public knowledge and his reputation is in tatters. Once, he had boasted to Xue Yang that if he, Wei Wuxian, is the second most shameless person in the cultivation world, then nobody would dare to be first.

It was truthfully a bit of an exaggeration, for he had been a beloved ward of Jiang Fengmian, Head Disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, the son of Cangse Sanren, and the fourth ranking cultivator of his generation.

Now… now he's just a problem. Even His mother would be ashamed.

Wei Wuxian stumbles, and the sound of his shuffling steps has Lan Wangji whipping around, eyes growing wide at the sight of him.

Do I really look so awful?

"Wei Ying!" He pushes to his feet but a single pulse of spiritual energy from an elder strikes him in the leg and forces his back onto his knees again. His porcelain mask crumbles and the raw pain underneath bleeds through.

A tinge of red seeps through the white of his robes, like a plum flower blooming amidst snow.

Wei Wuxian is suddenly acutely aware of the waning of Lan Zhan's cheeks and the pallor of his skin. Lan Zhan seems subdued somehow, almost as if… he's still confined by spiritual locks.

Without his cultivation, his wounds won't heal.

Worry lances Wei Wuxian in the chest, hot and sudden. Beneath his breast-bone, his physical heart aches within its cage. Struggling another three steps, he falls gracelessly onto his knees. His breath shakes, beads of cold sweat breaking across his temple and clinging to his hairline. The potion's numbness is starting to wear off, and the wave of pain rising inside him is almost enough to topple him to the ground. Still he holds on. He squeezes his eyes shut and gathers his breath, but he knows he must appear pathetic like this, half wasted before the Lan and Jiang Elders, Uncle, Madam Yu, and all of Gusu Lan's ancestors. No amount his usual shield of devil-may-care attitude could protect him now from his own sense of embarrassment.

"Wei Ying." Someone whispers his name. A firm grip finds his elbow, pulling him up.

Lan Zhan has shifted closer, so close in fact their thighs are almost touching. Cool, gentle fingers caress his face. He holds Lan Zhan's hand out of need and desperation.

Inexplicably, the elders allow this, but it doesn't bode well. Rather than perceiving it as leniency, Wei Wuxian is seized with dread.

Kindness is something one shows to a prisoner sentenced to die.

~~~

Lan Wangji is terrified.

The fact that the elders of Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang are able to deliberate and come to a consensus within half a day, that Yu Ziyuan and Lan Qiren can peacefully tolerate each other's presence without devolving into a shouting match, that neither xiong’zhang nor Jin-xiao-fu'ren are permitted to attend - are reasons for his frightful premonition.

There are candles and oil lamps lit all along the hall, illuminating the tomb plaques stacked neatly one row above the next up the wall of names.

With a nod from Madam Yu, Uncle rises from his seat and approaches him and Wei Ying. His expression is sullen and sad.

"Wangji, Wuxian. The Elders have discussed at length. Initially we had considered xiu'fu to be the most direct solution, but Yunmeng Jiang Sect has made it clear a divorce is not acceptable. After some convincing, Gusu Lan Sect concedes. Despite the rumours and the gossips, we recognize that you are both equal participants in this affair. Neither one is more guilty than the other…and in any case, Xichen himself is not the least bit bothered by any of this. The dissolution of your marriage, Wuxian, is not why we've summoned you both here today before our family's ancestors."

With a permissive gesture, Uncle beckons a Lan healer to enter the hall.

Lan Wangji's blood grows cold as the healer stops before him and Wei Ying, bows once, hands a tray to Lan Qiren containing two identical jade cups filled with clear liquids, and shuffles out without glancing once at either of them.

He hears Wei Ying inhale sharply, the fingers laced between his own squeeze impossibly harder.

So this is what it shall be.

Two cups of poisons to end the scandal, to wash them of their sins, and to restore honour to its rightful place.

Lan Wangji looks to the man he loves with his entire being, and finds Wei Ying's equally panicked eyes staring back at him.

This can't be real.

"Shufu -" Lan Wangji inches forward on his knees. Wei Ying has already taken three hundred and one lashes for him and nearly lost his life in process. He's never owed Lan Wangji anything, and even if he did, surely the debt's been paid in full and then some. He doesn't deserve this. "Shufu - shufu, forgive Wei Ying! This is my fault - "

Lan Wangji is the instigator. Since that first night at the wedding banquet, he's lost control of himself. Wei Ying annoyed him, yes, but only a little. Even since day one, Lan Wangji was able to recognize that Wei Wuxian from Lotus Pier has wit, spontaneity, and heart. His talent with a sword impress even those that disliked him, and he wields it with a sense of right and wrong that is fluid and innate, and has nothing to do with the rigid precepts carved in stone.

Lan Wangji fell without realizing, without warning, slow and sudden all at once.

He envied Lan Xichen who had all of Wei Ying and didn't know it, didn't treasure it. He envied Jiang Wanyin who held Wei Wuxian's sworn loyalty as brother, as family. He envied Jiang Yanli, who could draw the light to Wei Ying's eyes with a simple well-wishing letter and a smile from his lips that was warmer than the hearth in a winter storm, than the sunrise on a summer day.

He envied them because they had so much of Wei Ying and he had so little and wanted so much, but now he has everything…

…and what a price his desires demand.

"Shufu - Madam Yu -" Lan Wangji turns to the matriarch of Yunmeng Jiang and knocks his forehead to the ground. "Please believe me, this is entirely Wangji's doing. Wei Ying is innocent! If anyone is guilty, it is Wangji!"

"No! Lies!" Wei Ying protests, pushing Lan Wangji out of the way to say, "Don't listen to him, it's my fault- I -"

"That's enough." Lan Zonghui interrupts the youngsters' panicked tirade, always the cold voice of reason. "Perhaps you should allow your uncle to finish."

Lan Qiren grimaces, as though he can't make himself continue. Tightening his grip on the tray, and he says, "This transgression goes beyond the breaking of vows or the marriage of two individuals. The dignity of two great sects are at jeopardy. Since you are the ones who started it, you must be the ones to finish it. You must've known the consequences of your sins when you both chose this insane course of action, so we ask nothing but that you find the decency and courage to face them. Neither Gusu Lan nor Yunmeng Jiang are the deciders of your fates. As you are both equally at fault, to blame one over the other would be unjust. Therefore," He presents them with the cups.

"Only one is laced with poison. Which one you choose to drink is entirely up to you."

Lan Wangji's head is light, and he barely thinks before he asks out right, "Why not both?"

Lan Zonghui tilts his head curiously. "Do you think you deserve to die together?"

Of course not. That would be too kind.

Wei Ying closes his eyes as tears fall.

"What do you intend to do with the other?" ask Lan Wangji, glaring up at Lan Zonghui with mutiny in his eyes.

"Seclusion, to repent for your sins -"

"Wei Ying!"

Lightning fast, Wei Wuxian has already swallowed the content of cup closest to him and is reaching for the second cup.

It did occur to Lan Wangji earlier that if he moves quickly enough, he can grab both and drink both, but while he wrangled with how to best execute his plan, Wei Wuxian is already in motion.

Lan Wangji shouts something incoherent as the others in the room gasp. His powers may be sealed, but Wei Wuxian is carrying the wound of three hundred lashes. Even now, they are evenly matched. Lan Wangji knocks his hand out of the way at the very last second, stealing the second cup right out from under his reach and downs it in one go.

The drink tastes like nothing. Like water.

No…

He stares at the cup in hand then up at Wei Ying, assuming the worst, but Wei Wuxian is staring back at him with equal terror, seemingly not in any kind of danger. He must've tasted water too.

Was it… was it a test?

Lan Wangji dares to hope. He looks to his uncle, "shuf-", but then he feels it.

It's not pain, but he feels it, crawling up from his belly and overtaking him inch by inch. He lurches forward, falling onto his palms, the jade cup clattering to the ground.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying collects him in his arms and shakes him furiously. "Lan Zhan!! Stop fooling around! You can't die, they're not going to let you die, I'm not going to let you die, so - stop it! Stop messing with me!! Stop pretending - Lan Zh- Lan Wangji if you die now I will never forgive you!!"

Lan Wangji tries to say something, but he can't. Death is heavy, like a woolen shroud coiling tighter and tighter around his body. He's already lost sensation of his limbs, and even his vision is starting to blur. Whatever the poison is, it works fast.

Wei Ying is full on sobbing now, all pretenses of composure gone.

Wei Ying… I couldn't protect you when I should have.

He wishes he could speak these words aloud, or to touch that lovely face one more time, but he is relieved nevertheless that fate chose him. It is the intolerance of their world that demands one of their lives, but Lan Wangji finds he cannot regret his actions, despite his life coming to an end. To have met Wei Ying was a gift, to have loved him was a blessing, and to die for him now is an honour. Even when he's gone, he knows Wei Ying will be taken care of; xiong'zhang would ensure that much even if he is powerless to stop the will of the Elders.

It should shock Lan Wangji how quickly he's made his peace with death.

Wei Ying's cries drown out his senses, and he wishes again that he could somehow comfort him. Of all the things that has happened since Su She discovered them in the back mountains, his own demise is one which he willingly accepts. Above all else, he refuses to go with a broken heart, because then it would all have been for naught.

Lan Wangji smiles. To spend the last moment on this earth in Wei Ying's arms is indeed not so bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Wuxian feels it the second Lan Zhan grows still in his arms. Eyes closed, a smile lingers on his peerless face.

"L-Lan Zhan…Lan Zhan!! Lan Zhan!!"

He's still warm, pliant. Soon, soon he won't be. No, no Wei Wuxian refuses to let this be the end. It just can't.

Still holding onto Lan Zhan, he lunges forward and grasps onto Lan Zonghui's robe hem beseechingly. "Elder, elder please help him!" But Zonghui shakes him off.

Wei Wuxian glances frantically back and forth at the stone faces around him, desperation and despair brewing into hysteria inside him. Then, he finds it, the one pair of eyes not glaring at him in cold condemnation but pity.

Gently setting Lan Zhan on the ground, Wei Wuxian tries to get up, but his body does not obey. The back of his thin white robe is already soaked through, the vigor of his earlier movement having undone all of the healer's work. Too far gone to care now, Wei Wuxian crawls forward on his elbows and knees until he reaches Yu Ziyuan.

"Yu-fu'ren, please, please I’m begging you, give Lan Zhan the antidote! There has to be an antidote, right?! There can still be a chance - I'll die- I can die right now if you want me to! But save Lan Zhan, save him please! He is Gusu's Lan-er-gongzi, Gusu's Second Jade, my husband's little brother! I've already ruined my marriage, my reputation, my standing amongst the cultivators! Zewu-jun is kind and magnanimous, but even he won't want me now, especially if Lan Zhan is dead because of me! What is the point of letting me live?!! There is no future for me anywhere, but there still a future for Lan Zhan! Yu-fu'ren - no - shimu, shimu please, A-Xian has never begged you for anything in this life, please, if for nothing else than the fact I have been raised under you wings, help me save Lan Zhan, please…"

Madam Yu slowly bends down, hooking her index finger under Wei Wuxian's chin and lifts it up. "You would die for Lan Wangji?"

His face blotchy and snotty from sobbing, Wei Wuxian hiccups. "I - I would. Right now if you wish it."

There's a beat.

"Wangji isn't dead."

It is Lan Qiren that speaks. Yu Ziyuan releases him. Wei Wuxian twists around to see Uncle's hand pressed against Lan Wangji's left carotid. "Just out cold. You'd know if you thought to check instead of letting appearances fool you."

Disbelieving, Wei Wuxian struggles back to Lan Zhan's side to verify for himself. With trembling hands, he turns Lan Zhan over and gathers him in his arms. Though he knows there is nothing to fear, he still can't help pressing two digits to Lan Zhan's neck, checking to make sure the precious pulse is still there. Sure enough, Lan Zhan's heartbeat is strong and his breathing deep and unlaboured.

Alive.

Wei Wuxian blinks, still reeling from the mental whiplash of the sudden revelation, but the steady thrumming beneath his fingertip coupled with comforting sight of that warm, flushed cheeks give him the courage he needs to face what is to come.

Lan Zonghui steps up to him and says, "You said so yourself. There is no future for you. Now you understand now why it always has to be you." From his qiankun sleeve, he retrieves a small porcelain bottle.

The real poison. Wei Wuxian realizes, sagging in relief. The irony of his emotions is not lost on him.

"What did you actually give us?"

"A strong anesthetic."

"Then… how come I'm not affected."

"The antidote to the anesthetic was laced into your pain medicine, which the healers gave you before you were summoned," Lan Qiren explains.

Sleeping…he's just sleeping. Thank god, oh thank god.

Lan Zhan is alive. He's going to be fine. But…Wei Wuxian grows worried again, imagining how Lan Zhan will react to his death once he comes to.

"What will you tell him? When he wakes up, he's going to realize you've tricked him." Lan Wangji can be the most stubborn when he's fixated on a goal. There's no telling what he would do. "You have to… you have to protect him from himself."

"He won't know. We will tell him that one cup had the poison and the other an anesthetic. The poison is slow acting while the anesthetic is fast."

"He will question it. Why the anesthetic? Why the smoke and mirrors?"

Lan Zonghui looks from him to the boy lying unconscious cradled against him. "Does he really want to be awake to watch his lover die in his arms as you just assumed you did? We will tell him it's mercy, so that the remaining party won't have to watch the process happen. He will be allowed to say goodbye to you at the sect funeral. We will grant him that."

"Sect funeral?" Echoed Wei Wuxian, surprised. "You… Gusu Lan Sect would bury me with honour? Even after…"

"That is the compromise." It is a Jiang Elder - Jiang Liliang, Wei Wuxian believes - who explains to him. "The Lans will recognize you as one of their own. No ceremony will be spared. In death, you will be given all honours and decorum befitting the husband of Sect Master Lan. The action of an individual should not affect the relations of two sects. This is a stance the elders of both our families unanimously share."

Wei Wuxian nods, understanding, finally calm after all that crying.

"I'm still worried about Lan Zhan. You must swear to -"

"Wangji will be under guard at all times until the funeral, after which he will be sent to sealed seclusion for three years. He won't have access to his powers or means to harm himself. Time dulls all pain. So too will Wangji's. Someday, you will just be a mistake of his youth."

A mistake of his youth…

Indeed.

Lan Zonghui picks up the cup Wei Wuxian had discarded on the ground and pours the content of the vial into it.

Wei Wuxian wonders what it actually is.

"Do you have any more questions?" Lan Qiren asks him, sullen but not unkind.

"None."

"Requests?"

Requests? Ah yes. Last rites. At least they let him have that, and if he may, there is in fact something he'd like to do.

"One."

"You may name it."

"Turn around."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'd like to kiss Lan Zhan. One last time. So unless you'd rather watch me do it, turn around."

"Look around you, you insolent scoundrel!" One Lan Elder whose name he can't recall cries out in anger. "You're in the ancestral hall, Wei Wuxian! How dare you?!"

But Wei Wuxian hugs Lan Wangji close and swallows his pride. For what seems like the thousandth time since he arrived, he begs, not for himself, but for Lan Zhan.

"Please."

He expects that even after his death, he would be the smear in Hanguang-jun's otherwise pristine history, but he doesn't want to be just that, not completely. This, he will leave with Lan Zhan. Even if only one kiss out of their thousands is sanctioned, it will still be better than nothing.

One kiss, just one.

Perhaps they understood him, for Lan Qiren and Yu Ziyuan turn away without further protest, and Lan Zonghui too. Grumbling, the rest of the elders follow suit, displeased and somewhat disgusted by his shamelessness, but Wei Wuxian is due to die any second now, so they allow him this one offense.

"Sleep well, Lan-er-gege, I've gotta go now," he whispers for no one to hear.

Their last kiss is slow, chaste, and Wei Wuxian prays.

Lan Zhan, for yourself sake, I hope you can slowly feel less for me. I would hate to know you spent the rest of your very long life sad. But maybe...don't forget me completely? How does that sound? Or else I'd be a very sad ghost…

Lan Zhan... next life, let's not be brothers-in-law, hm? If you want, I'll wait for you, however long it takes I'll wait. When we meet again, I hope it's still at night. I never did tell you how beautiful you were under the moon.

I promised, I would never leave you, so I won't. You have me, as long as you want, you'll have me. As long as you want me with you, I am not gone.

Wei Wuxian says none of those things out loud, but the soft expression on his face as he smiles down at Lan Zhan must've spoken volumes. This is a man close to death, and yet his smile is kind, soft, and sincere.

Lan Qiren makes a low cough in the back of his throat, telling him time is up.

Wei Wuxian presses his lips one last time to Lan Zhan's forehead, and lets him go.

"I'm ready."

The healers on standby transport Lan Wangji's body to the infirmary.

Lan Zonghui stands before him with the solution to this disaster.

Wei Wuxian knows that as long as he dies, all of this can end. A decision unanimously agreed upon by Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan, to all those who hear of his story, his death will not be an unfair sentence. There is no bias. No undeserved blame. It is...it is Wei Ying's lot in life to be the one chosen by fate to die. The gods must've seen that Lan Wangji is good and worthy of redemption. As long as he dies, faith and righteousness will be satisfied.

"What is it?" He asks Elder Zonghui curiously. 鹤顶红? Crane's crimson crown? Probably. That is the most likely.

"天子泪."

Emperor's Tears. Wei Wuxian almost laughs. Of course, of course it is.

"It tastes like Emperor's Smile, but it is not. It is a gentle poison and will take some time to take its effect."

It's funny, Wei Wuxian muses as the jade cup is presented to him, how such a lovely thing is to be the instrument that ends his life. He accepts it with both hands, obediently, bringing it close to his lips. The familiar aroma of the clear liquid makes him smile.

He bows thrice, properly, his forehead meeting the marbled ground with a dull thud each time.

Wei Wuxian takes his last drink with the same vigour as he took his first. Eyes closed, savouring every drop. Then, clasping his hands before his chest, he draws all the energy in his body and rights himself onto his knees, facing the altar.

"I, Wei Wuxian of Gusu Lan, repent before the forefathers. May you forgive my transgressions and release me from my mortal sins."

And protect Lan Zhan. He prays. For I will no longer be able to do it.

Briefly, he wonders if there are Gusu Lan forefathers with a sense of humour. For all this to play out front of them, surely the less uptight ancestors must be thoroughly entertained by the dramatics of it all. Death, he imagines, must get boring after a while. In any case, he'll find out soon for himself.

"I'd like to spend my last moments alone."

Lan Zonghui looks to Yu Ziyuan and then to Lan Qiren. An unspoken agreement passes between them. One after another, elders of the Lan and Jiang clan vacate the ancestral hall. The heavy doors grind against the hinge, a low somber moan, as it is pulled shut, leaving Wei Wuxian kneeling amongst the candlelight.

The slow poison is not so slow. Perhaps in his reduced state, its effect is amplified, for soon after he is left to himself the air in his lungs begins to burn. A gush of blood surges up his throat filling his mouth.

If he's honest…okay, he's a little scared. Just a tad.

Hey demons, it's me. Eighteenth level of hell here I come…

In his last conscious moments, his thoughts linger on the sweet tang of Gusu's Emperor's Tears, and of Lan Zhan that very first night standing alone under the eave, away from the wedding festivities, an ethereal figure basked in the moonlight. There is a force pulling him down, and he collapses under the weight of it, right there in front of the altar.

The world is dark before he even hit the ground.

He does not hear the clash of Shuoyue's energy against the entrance, blasting open the doors, but he does perhaps hear the fainting voice of his sister calling his name.

A-XIAN.

Dusk falls, night arrives, and Wei Wuxian is gone.

---

Note:

[shimu 师母] - shi = teacher, mu = mother. The wife of one's shifu

#the untamed #wangxian #discordance #discau #cql #I'M SORRY #not really #lan xichen blew the door down #just fyi #but erm #too late #jiang cheng is not going to be happy #so this is chapter 4 on AO3 #after this it's gonna be a really really really long flash back from the beginning #the following part will be part 4 the wedding and then chronologically from there onwards

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frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Royal Flush - Pt. 11

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art (can’t stop me… #obsessed)

Ok, so this is a very long update, but I didn’t want to cut ANY of it. But I really hope you will enjoy. Also, I think there will be 13/14 parts. Not 12. The boys are apparently not done with me yet!! And Morgana MAY have highjacked herself another chapter.

Also, also... I’m sorry about the end.

Comments and Reblogs give me life! The next part is already mostly written out, so if I have enjoy interest I’ll post it early. Want to commission your own piece? DM me for details! Check out my Masterlist above for more of my inane/insane ramblings, and please feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there!

I have an Alternative 10 page Part 11 that Immediately follows the events of last chapter available for purchase on BuyMeACoffee (which you can access through my Masterlist). There are only 10 copies available right now, so get them before they are gone. OH! And did I mention its NSFW? That piece is set in an alternative timeline, where Grier and Nikostratus.... well, I guess you’d just have to buy it to see. However, it is not a canon part of this story. Just an alternative spin the story could have taken.

All the best!

“Niko, Niko, Niko, NIKO!” Morgan half-sang, half shouted, punctuating each repetition of my name with a bounce on the bed. “Niko! NIKO!”

I sighed groggily, cracking open an eye and looking over at her. She reached across the bed, placing both hands on my shoulder and giving me a solid shake.

“Niko! The sun’s finally up!” She declared, then crawled closer to better shake me. “It’s morning! I slept! Can I go explore the castle now?” I started to yawn, and she bounced up and down impatiently. “Come ON, Niko! Get up!! Get up!”

“Alright, alright, little chickadee. I’m up.” I yawned again. “I’m up.”

I rubbed a hand across my face, slowly tugging myself into a sitting position. My whole body felt heavy and drained, as if I had spent the previous day climbing a mountain. It took me longer than usual to shake the grogginess from my head, and I lingered with my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. The sun’s rays were slowly filtering in through the large windows beside the bed. Reaching sparkling tendrils of light towards us. Seeing that I was officially awake, Morgana bounded from the bed and skittered barefoot across the floor over to the clear glass. I swore she was almost vibrating with excitement, and pressed her face against it to peer out.

“Can we go outside? Are goblins awake during the day, or are they only up at night? Are there a lot of goblins?” She gushed, dancing from foot to foot before running back to the bed.

I ran my hand over the back of my head, then down to my neck, stretching my sore muscles, nodding slowly. “We can go outside, I’m sure. Goblins sleep at night too. And yes, there’s a lot of them.”

She tugged at my wrist as I swung my legs out of the bed, and I stood at her insistence. “What do you do all day? Do you run the city? Do you hold audiences?”

“I train with the General in the mornings.” I told her, stretching again now that I was standing. “And the King has been letting me shadow him, so I can learn more about the Kingdom. And I’ve been learning goblinese.” I tugged a fresh tunic over my head.

“Goblinese??”

I nodded, noticing a trunk in the foyer and guessing that some of the attendants must have brought it in last night while we were distracted. I padded my way over and started picking through her clothes before tossing her a fresh dress.

“That’s what goblins speak. Not all of them know Common.”

“Can I learn goblinese?” She asked eagerly.

I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Wash up and get dressed.”

There was a knock as I directed her to the bathing room. I closed the door behind her, leaving it propped a tiny crack, before I headed back to the foyer to the one leading out to the hall. My heart skipped as a memory of soft green lips came unbidden to my mind. I quickly reminded myself that Grier would never be up this early, unless he had simply never gone to bed the day before. And cool beads of dread dripped down the back of my neck as I remembered what he had said…. “But I would like to speak more about… …. About everything.” Everything. What was... everything? I swallowed hard, brushing the notion from my head as best I could.

Still, my hand shook a little as I tugged the door open. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed that Seoc stood in the hall instead. He offered me a quick bow.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Good morning, Seoc,” I replied cordially, nodding to him and hiding my nervousness well, “I hope everything is alright?”

He smiled up at me. “Of course, Your Highness. My apologies for the intrusion.” He dipped his head lightly again. “General Damjan sent word. He is curious if you will still be joining him his morning.”

I considered that, glancing over as the door to the bathing room opened. Morgana scuttled over, freshly dressed and eyes curious, quickly tucking herself at my side and peeking around the door. Seoc’s own eyes dropped to her, and he gave a friendly smile, bowing lightly.

“Princess.” He greeted her cheerily.

She looked between me and him, then tugged on my shirt subtly. I supposed she might be surprised. Wondering who Seoc was to be speaking to her without having first been spoken to. Not that she minded, I knew. Likely she was estatic. She just didn’t know how to react to it. I was again reminded how different customs were between the two kingdoms. I instinctually dropped a hand to her shoulder, reassuring her as she shifted from foot to foot.

“I assume the King is not up yet?” I asked him, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

He hid a small smirk, as if amused by the thought of the King being up at any decent morning hour. “Not yet, Your Highness.” He cocked his head to the side and his big ears flopped. I saw Morgana’s eyes widen with delight. “Would you like me to have breakfast brought up for you?”

“What do you think then, Princess?” I mused, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Would you like to go to the training grounds with me? Or are you hungry?”

She looked between me and Seoc again for another quiet moment, her eyes still wide with wonder. “... I could go with you?” She asked timidly, her voice softer than usual, “Do you fight with the goblins?”

“Of course, you can. And we spar; only for training and exercise purposes.” I assured her. Then nodded to Seoc. “Perhaps the General would be willing to show the Princess and I around the grounds? In lieu of our usual match.”

“I can send word, Your Highness, if you would give me a moment.” He replied. “Then I can escort you down if you wish.” The goblin tilted his head to the side. “I am certain the King would enjoy sharing breakfast with you as well. Shall I let Lord Hibik know to inform us when he wakes?”

I stiffened a little, then gave a curt nod. “That is an excellent suggestion, Seoc... Let me fetch my boots while you send word, yes?”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

A few minutes later we were off to meet Damjan. Morgana shyly hid in my shadow, tugging on my sleeve and whispering things to me. Despite that, and the innate joy I felt just to have her at my side, I couldn’t help but linger on what came later on after our tour…

….

Seoc bowed as he opened the door for us, stepping to the side to allow us to enter. Morgana kept a step behind me, alternating between peeking around my legs and hiding herself there. I knew it must be strange for her; she had been taught to stifle her curiosity and told to sit still for as long as she could remember, save with me. Surrounded by statues, and not allowed to ask questions or speak. Ignored, for the most part, as most children at Court were. But here, everyone smiled at her. Everyone greeted her, and when she forgot herself for a moment and asked a question, they were always eager to answer. She had never perfected her composure and mask as I had; but I still saw her struggle a little, as she tried to determine what was expected of her. It made my heart ache to see, and I was glad to have taken her as far away from that place as I could.

The small sitting room we entered was well lit, with a small crackling fire before the couch and armchairs sat before the knee-high dark wood table. I saw Morgana’s eyes skitter about, considering the cluttered décor and bright colors. My eyes settled much more quickly on the room’s occupants.

Grier sat on one end of the couch, shuffling grumpily through a few papers Hibik offered him. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I felt that he looked a fair bit more tired than usual, with dark circles around his eyes. At the sound of the door, his gaze flicked up. Meeting mine. My heart skipped and I resisted the urge swallow. Especially as those thin lips split into a small, wry smile.

“Ah, my favorite pair of royal siblings.” He exclaimed, glancing back at the papers once more before passing them to Hibik with a nod. “I trust you slept well?”

Morgana peeked around my leg curiously, and he offered her a smile. As he seemed to be speaking directly to her, she bowed her head lightly. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Thank you for your inquiry.” She replied formally.

Grier cocked one brow, standing slowly and waving Hibik out the door. “My, but the family resemblance is strong.” He replied dourly, tilting his head to the side. “There’s no need for that, Princess. You may always speak freely around me.”

Morgana glanced up at me, surprised and a little curious. I pushed her hair back out of her face, the corners of my mouth twitching. But I gave her a small nod, and she looked back at the King.

“... I can still call you ‘Grier’?” She asked shyly.

His smile returned. “Of course! I hope I can still call you ‘Morgana’, yes? And you can still ask me questions.” He beckoned us both deeper into the room. “Perhaps you can even help me convince Nikostratus to do so as well.” He told her with a wink.

A tiny smile lit her own lips as a flush prickled my cheeks at his words, and she glanced at me only once more before walking around to sit in one of the armchairs beside the table. I followed behind, pretending not to notice the goblin’s eyes following me as I did. I settled on the couch, and tried not to stiffen as he settled back in the seat at the opposite end. The couch was not nearly so long; his knees could almost brush mine when he turned to the side, as he did now. He reached out, flipping a cup and pouring some coffee into it. I peeked at him through my lashes as he offered it to me. Forcing myself not to quiver as our fingers brushed together when I took it from him.

“Please, help yourselves.” He told us, though his eyes never left mine. “I am sure you are hungry.”

“Thank you.” I replied softly, my voice barely above a murmur. I ran my thumb along the edge of my drink, but then raised it to take a slow sip. I wondered what he was thinking. I tried to look at him from the corners of my eyes, wondering if he would want to talk immediately. Or if I would have to suffer the dread of waiting even longer. It had been all I could think about for the previous few hours. I couldn’t fathom having whatever pending conversation he had planned in front of my sister, but couldn’t tell if he would take her presence in to consideration either.

“There are no forks!” Morgana exclaimed after a moment, bringing me back to the present. I turned to find her looking over the spread, and saw her glance up nervously.

“No, I suppose there are not.” Grier replied, amused, leaning back with his own cup.

She tilted her head to the side, slowly coming out of her shell again. “... How do you eat?”

The goblin smirked, taking a sip. “With our hands.” He tilted his head back to the side. “Do humans eat with their feet?”

Her smile grew a little at his teasing. “No. But, we don’t touch food.” She looked over at me. “...We’re not supposed to touch the food. It gets our hands messy.”

The King ‘hmm’ed softly at that. “Goblin food is meant to be eaten with your hands.” Grier told her. “I suppose it must not be as messy as yours.”

She looked back over the spread. Then back to me.

“Go ahead.” I encouraged her. “Try some. I think you’ll like it.”

She gingerly picked up a pastry, bringing it to her mouth to sniff. After the first bite, she was hooked, and I almost smiled as she quickly scarfed down the rest and went for another. She cast another nervous glance at both of us, but whenever neither of us looked particularly upset at her manners, she took another handful. I saw her little shoulders relax a little. The goblin picked up a morsel for himself, taking a solid bite and chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered her, gesturing to the pot. “How did you find the castle this morning? I hope you got the chance to explore a little.”

“No, thank you.” She said politely, swallowing another mouthful. “We saw the training cliffs.” She glanced at him through her lashes, and he gave her an encouraging nod. Her smile started to spread wider across her lips. “You can see the mountains from there! It’s very cold... Is it always cold here? Do goblins get cold? Do you wear fur hats?”

Grier chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose it usually is quite cold, but inside the mountain we keep it nice and toasty so we don’t notice. And of course we get cold! We aren’t dragons.” He grinned at her. “And I have a few fur hats.”

She giggled, plucking up a new item to try, sniffing at it experimentally. Her hazel eyes flicked to me as she did.

“You need to eat too, Niko.” She reminded me, before looking over at Grier. “Niko doesn’t eat much.” She explained to him. “I think he forgets he’s hungry. It’s not good for him though! He’ll make himself sick.”

I blushed slightly, starting to open my mouth to reply. To my surprise, Grier chuckled.

“I’ve noticed that.” His scarlet eyes flicked to me at their corners. “He won’t eat if he’s nervous… or flustered.” I felt my blush deepen as the goblin leaned forward, calling my sister’s attention to a tray of pastries in the center. “Do you see these? We call these uyapik. There’s different types for every meal. But each bite is like a whole plate of food in one.” He picked one up, holding it out to her. “It has vegetables, and meat, and often cheese. All in one neat little package.”

Her eyes filled with wonder as she took it from him. She took a bite, then nodded excitedly. “Oh, this is perfect! It’s so yummy!”

Grier grinned. “Even Nikostratus can usually manage to eat one or two of these. A single uyapi should have just about everything he needs.” My eyes widened slightly with the sudden realization of why the goblin pastry had become such a prominent feature through the duration of my stay. The King’s grin turned a little coy at the corners.

“Here, Niko,” She exclaimed, popping out of her seat and grabbing one in each hand, “These are yours.”

I fumbled with my cup to make space for them in my own hands before they fell on my lap. “Chickadee, I-”

“Do you always eat with him?” She asked Grier, ignoring me. “Do you goblins have lunch and dinner too?” She drew in a sharp breath, suddenly looking a little concerned. “Do you have desert??”

Grier nodded. “I try to eat with him for every meal. And yes, we have a midday meal and an evening meal.” His grin grew. “And of course we have desert. Nothing more important than that!”

Morgana giggled, leaning against my knees behind her and looking over the table again. She picked up something that looked like a hardboiled egg, though it was freckled with green spots. She seemed to think about that for a moment. “... Do goblins have weddings, too? When are you going to get married?”

I started to sputter something, and Grier chuckled again. “Our ceremonies are different than yours, but we do have ‘weddings’, so to speak.” His scarlet eyes flicked to me, and I nearly froze in place. “And I hope soon, though we still have to plan it.”

“Can I help? Will Niko be a King afterwards? Do goblins share rooms when they are married?” She tilted her head to the side. “Will you move in with him, or will he move in with you? Is your bed big enough? Niko is very tall.”

“N-now, hold on a second, chickadee,” I started, my face hotter than a furnace, “You can’t just-”

“Niko doesn’t like talking about this stuff.” She told Grier, ignoring me, leaving me sputtering and flushing darker. “This one time, I asked him about kissing, and he-”

I clapped my free hand over her mouth, shaking my head fervently as I felt my ears catch fire from embarrassment. “I-I think that that’s quite e-enough of that.” I mumbled, reaching out to place the remaining uyapi on the table and wrap my arm about her waist to hoist her to the side. As if hiding her from his view would assure the goblin forgot her words.

Grier laughed, which only served to make my flush spread down the back of my neck. “Well, I do believe she’s asked some very good questions, my young Prince.” He teased. “Very practical, your little bird is.”

I dropped my hand with a soft shout of disgust as she licked her tongue across my palm. Before I could catch her again, she darted around the other side of the table. Giggling excitedly. I wiped my hand on my pant leg and shot her a small scowl. Which only had the goblin laughing again. I stiffened at the sound.

“I-I apologize,” I started to stammer, working hard to find some semblance of my composure once more.

The King waved it away. “No apologies necessary.” He grinned at me. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Asked Morgana curiously, darting a little closer to his side of the table.

His grin grew. “More relaxed. And of course, flustered.” I dropped my eyes to the floor quickly, unable to meet his. “I think it makes him look very cute.”

Morgana giggled again, sneaking around the other side of the couch. She had to practically jump over the back, but managed to wrap her arms around my shoulders with her feet dangling off the ground. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye suspiciously.

“Niko! He thinks you’re cute!” She whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “You should say something nice back!”

I would have stood and attempted some excuse to bolt from the room had my sister not been currently so precariously wrapped about me. I stammered uselessly for a minute, which just made Grier laugh again and my ears burn. Could he hear her?

“Come on, Niko!” She urged. “... I know! Tell him you like his hair.”

“N-now, se-see here, you two.” I mumbled weakly, shaking my head. “Th-this… this is… Ah…”

“Perhaps we should let your brother be for a minute, yes?” Grier offered, his smirk still coyly twisted about his lips. “Elsewise he might just catch the couch on fire. Or forget how to breathe.” I felt Morgana’s arms loosen at his words, and wrung my hands nervously in front of me. “... Would you like to meet your potential Lady in Waiting now?” Grier continued, easily changing the subject. “I have a few noble ladies come to call to meet you.”

“Goblin ladies?” Morgana asked eagerly, slipping back around to the front of the couch. Her previous motives already forgotten in light of this new information.

The King chuckled. “Yes, of course. As I do believe the current population of humans in our Court is limited to this room at the moment.” He shifted in his seat. “You can meet them all, and if you like any of them, they can be your Lady.”

My sister picked up a uyapi, quickly finishing it off in two bites before picking up another pastry and stuffing that into her still chewing mouth as well. She turned back to me as she swallowed it.

“See, Niko? I ate! Can we go meet the goblins now?”

I tried to relax, swallowing hard and attempting to wrangle my swirling thoughts into some semblance of order.

“Actually, Morgana,” Grier interrupted before I could voice whatever I had managed to compile, “Perhaps Hibik can take you to meet the young ladies.” I stiffened again, looking over at him. “They are just down the hall, and I’m not sure Nikostratus has eaten very much himself yet.” He cocked his head to the side. “Would that be alright?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah. You’re right.” She turned back to me, pointing one scolding finger at my nose. My eyebrows shot up a little. “You need to eat. And you’d better have before I get back.” She warned.

“I beg your pardon-”

To my surprise, she then skipped in between us, picking up my hand and Grier’s. And pressed them together until they folded over each other. My mouth flapped uselessly as my face blazed.

“There.” She proclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and looking out our now entwined fingers. “That’s better.” She turned to Grier who looked a little surprised himself. “Make sure he eats, ok?”

As if on cue, Hibik opened the door with a knock, arms full of paperwork and a greeting on his lips. Morgana skipped around the couch to him.

“Lord Hibik, Grier says you’re to take me to see the goblin ladies,” She told him, and then started to dart out the door around him. “Let’s go!”

“Morgana-” I began exasperatedly, moving to stand, then froze as the King’s fingers suddenly tightened around mine.

“Hibik, if you would be so kind.” Grier instructed him, waving his free hand lightly.

His secretary looked between us, wide eyed, then quickly scrambled to close the door and follow after my sister. A few papers fluttered to the ground in his wake, forgotten in his haste.

My heart thudded in my chest and I stared numbly at the door for a long moment. Torn between Morgana no longer being in my sight and the heat slowly spreading down my neck as Grier kept our fingers firmly and stubbornly latched together. After a moment, I chanced a glance at our hands on the couch between us where she had left them.

“You know,” He finally said after an extended moment of silence, “I was originally under the impression that you were the primary caretaker for Morgana.” I straightened slightly at his words, and I could hear the grin lacing his next. “But now, I’m not entirely so sure it’s not the other way around.”

“Ah… She’s…” I mumbled, face still flaming. “She can be a bit… pushy.”

He chortled lightly. “She cares a lot about you. And I think she does an excellent job watching out for you. For a nine year old.” His voice became a little more somber suddenly. “... We spoke about you for a time, yesterday. Before you happened upon us.” I noticed him shift a little closer, and my legs tingled to stand. “... I’m afraid she might have told me a few secrets of yours after all.”

I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat. Trying to pretend I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about and still unable to meet his gaze. “O-oh?”

His thumb moved across my knuckles. “She gave me a little glimpse into your life before… all this…” The goblin slid even closer, and his other hand came up to cap ours. “... I didn’t get the impression it was a particularly happy life.”

“It’s unfortunate that she gave you that impression,” I replied after a breath, shrouding myself in a flat formality that was belittled by my unwillingness to meet his eyes, “However, I can assure you that…” I dropped off, “... That… umm…” I felt a strange numbness tingling through me, and realized I hadn’t the will to fabricate that particular lie. Especially to Grier. I glanced off to the side. “... It had its moments.”

“Most of them focused around your little bird, I would assume.”

I slipped my hand from his grasp, bringing it to clasp my other in my lap. I stared down at them for a moment. “... I-I… I am sure it is unimportant.”

“.... I was about Morgana’s age when my father died.” He told me quietly. “One day he was there and the next…” I peeked at him through my lashes, and saw him looking off at some distant spot. “... My mother ruled in his stead, and she made sure I had the freedom to… well, to be a child. To go on little adventures, and play, and have fun. She let me make friends with whomever I wanted... She didn’t hold me to adult standards of self control and etiquette. I didn’t have to make tough decisions that impacted the entire Kingdom, or be faced with those responsibilities. I didn’t even really know about them. She didn’t ask me to be a King or even a royal while I was still a kid…”

I looked at him, and my brow furrowed angrily. “I do not hold Morgana to adult standards.” I argued, my voice becoming terse. “I do not demand she sit still or quiet, nor do I lay any royal responsibilities on her shoulders-”

“I know.” He interrupted me before I could get too heated.

As he dropped off, I tried to wrap my head around why then he had told me about his own childhood. What point he had been trying to make... And suddenly I knew it wasn’t Morgana he was talking about. A cold chill swept through me at the realization. I blinked at him stupidly, then shook my head. Looking away once more. A tense silence stretched between us for a long moment. Finally, I cleared my throat, shaking my head. Moving to speak. But nothing came out.

“I don’t mean to pry. It was just something I realized while I was speaking with your sister.” He continued, when I still hadn’t spoken. Then he sighed, and I saw his hand come up, pushing his hair back out of his face. “I’m… not sure if you would want to talk about it… but I’m here if you do.”

I chewed on my tongue for a moment, glancing over at the door. “... Talk about what, exactly?” I asked, and winced at the bitterness in my voice. “Talk about the King? Talk about... ‘all this seriousness’?” I felt a numbness spreading through my chest, and my eyes became unseeing. “...Talk about my mother? … What good would it do? Talking?” I sounded distant, even to my own ears, and painfully flat. “What does it change?” I shook my head once more, the sensation deadened by the numbness. “... I-I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded quickly. “Ok…. That’s fine. I understand.” The goblin patted my knee gently. “It was callous of me to bring up… I apologize.”

Grier moved to stand, starting to withdraw his hand. I grabbed it suddenly, then winced. Releasing it almost as soon as I had, embarrassed. But he froze for a breath, before dropping back down. Sitting beside me once more. Slowly, he reached out, slipping his hand into mine. I didn’t move as he did, and stared at his fingers as he wiggled them between my own. Watched them curl around mine in my lap, felt his warmth seep into my palm. I hesitated, then slowly closed my own fingers.

“... I don’t want to talk about it... but…” I told him, my voice weak, and frayed. I hated the sound of it, and closed my mouth to trap it once more. I glanced down at our hands, and felt mine twitch in his grasp.

“I can stay.” He murmured softly, and his thumb ran back and forth over my own. “We can talk about something else…” The goblin hesitated, and I glanced at him. “... Morgana also said you went away for a while, but she didn’t know where. Only that you were… different when you came back.”

Instantly I stiffened. Remembering exactly what she had said regarding that time. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest. I started to pull my hand from his. Then… I stopped myself. Hesitating. Glancing back at our entwined fingers. My tongue felt too large for my mouth again. I felt him give my hand another gentle squeeze. I tried to take courage from it.

“... I went to the front lines.” I said, so quietly he had to lean forward to hear me.

He seemed to sense I didn’t particularly want to talk about that either. And thankfully let it be. Instead, we sat in silence for a moment, and he brought his free hand to trace small circles on the inside of my wrist. I slowly calmed my racing heart, and felt my breath become more steady.

“... Morgana will need a tutor.” I told him finally, my voice still quiet. Straying back into safer waters. “I-I am not sure how long she will be able to stay with us, but-”

“It’s not a problem.” He assured me, stroking my hand gently. “She can stay as long as she likes.” He chuckled lightly. “Which I hope is for a very long time... What did your brother mean though? ‘When it’s safe’?” He frowned. “Safe from what?”

I scowled, my heart rate jumping again. “... The King, in his wisdom, spoke of his plans to…” A bitter taste settled on my tongue, and I shook my head angrily. “... Valerianus and I feared for her welfare.”

Grier mirrored my scowl, and made a soft, disgusted noise. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to forcibly remove him from the throne?” He asked bitterly. “I would be only too happy to do so.” I shook my head distractedly, then stopped, a sinking feeling filling my throat. I glanced sidelong at the goblin, and he caught the look. “... What is it?”

“If…” I hesitated, stopping myself and staring down at our hands. A sudden fear filled me, a dread for the answer that I felt was forthcoming. It was the question I had been avoiding for almost the entire duration of my stay. My eyes darted to the door, as if we might be interrupted at any moment. “I-if I had not…” I took a steadying breath. “If I had not agreed to this…” I stopped again, my palms feeling clammy. I started to pull my hand out of his.

To my surprise, he latched on tightly to it. “I would never have accepted Morgana in your place.” He told me bluntly, and I winced at his words. The goblin, of course, had seen right through me. “I can’t even think of a child as...” His voice sounded disgusted even as he dropped off. Red eyes reached between us, and I met them nervously. “I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.”

My heart lodged in my throat. “But you couldn’t have known I would-” I started to argue.

“I hoped.” He returned, cutting me off. “... And you forget…” I saw his slender eyebrows twitch. “I was winning the war… I didn’t need this peace.”

My eyes must have flashed with my anger, because I saw his expression quickly recoil from his teasing. “...And had I not agreed to marry you, you would have done... what exactly?” I asked tersely. “Finished the war? Destroyed our Kingdom?” I tried to pull my hand from his. “Would you have had my family and I beheaded or just banished?” My tone was mocking and sharp. “... Or would you have imprisoned me instead?”

“No! No, of course not!” He grabbed at my wrist as I wriggled my fingers free of his. “I just meant I wasn’t forced to take a partner. I could have waited.”

“So you forced my hand instead.” My voice was becoming colder by the minute. “We needed the peace. Our people were dying. Were suffering.” I used my opposite hand to tear his off my wrist. “This was all a game to you… It’s always just...” My voice broke a little, but I quickly scowled to conceal it. “You might have been able to wait. I did not have that luxury.”

I wasn’t sure why I bit so hard back at him. Maybe because he had picked at a scab I had tried to keep hidden away. Maybe because I felt vulnerable, with him prying at my childhood, and longed to find some sort of foothold. And found a strange strength and familiarity in the anger. But when I glanced up at his face, and saw the pain there… I winced. Suddenly feeling uncertain, and more vulnerable than before. I shook my head, giving into my urge to flee the turmoil raging inside me and standing quickly. I only took a few steps away though, and stood with my back to him. Facing the fireplace.

“I didn’t mean to… to force you into this…” He finally managed after a few tense breaths. “I tried to give you opportunities to change your mind… to choose a different path... to… to wait, as I could have...” The King’s voice was melancholy and soft, and I focused on the flickering flames in an attempt to block it from my heart. “But it seems… as per usual… I didn’t quite think things through. I didn’t fully realize how much you needed the Treaty. How willing you were to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your people…”

I heard the soft creak of the cushions as he stood, and stiffened slightly. My neck itched to turn and look. To see what he was doing. To know what shape his thin lips took then, or what shade of red his eyes were. Would they be dark with his regret? Or would they flash with his pain? His slender knit eyebrows, would he have them scrunched up towards the top of his nose? Crushing together his heavy brow, piling each on top of the other; the way they did when he was mad. Or would his face be soft, with his brows almost drooping off the sides of his face, making his eyes big? Was his chin tilted up to look for my face, making his hair fall down his back? Or would he be staring at the floor, unable to find the courage to meet my gaze, and have the messy locks framing his sharp jaw and prickling his long ears? It bothered me more than I cared to admit that I didn’t know, and was left with only the memory of his face in my mind’s eye. Yet my pride, and my fear, would not allow me to turn to him. Even though having nothing but the hollow shadow of his face set a deep ache in my chest.

“... As Royals, I suppose our method is rather backwards…” He finally sought to fill the silence, and his voice placed him somewhere at my back, still close to the couch. “We marry first, and have our courtship after… We have to just hope the person we picked is a good match...” I heard him shuffle a step closer. “... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m making excuses… But I didn’t need to wait… I didn’t want to wait… because… because...”

I jumped as his hands suddenly came around my waist, then slid to my front until his arms were wrapped as far around me as they could go. I felt him bury his face into my back, and wasn’t sure whether to stiffen at his touch or shiver. I froze, halfway through a breath. Confused by his proximity, and the heat of him bleeding through the fabric of my clothes.

“I saw you, Nikostratus, and I knew I wanted you… Knew I needed you… From the very first moment I laid eyes on you… I was lost.” His voice was muffled, but each word still stabbed at my heart. “I-I guess… I guess I just hoped that you would feel the same.” I felt him shake his head. “But you don’t need to. I know I’m… I know that maybe I move too fast for you… I beg that you can forgive me… because when it comes to you, at the very least, I am… weak...”

I let out a shaky breath, and my hand moved of its own accord to lightly brush against his arms around my waist. My mind spun, and again I had a hard time finding my voice. I was glad he couldn’t see my mouth flap like a fish.

“... Grier…”

He shook his head against me a second time. “It’s ok. I’ve already forced you into enough. You don’t have to say or do anything-”

“Can I just-” I snapped, then sucked in a tight breath, stilling myself. Trying to calm the soft lingering smolder of my anger. Trying to pull something more cohesive from the swirl of emotions in my chest. “... The past is the past... and we can’t go back and change it now.” I hesitated, then rested my hand on his arm. “... Maybe we should leave it there.”

Before he could respond, there was a loud clattering crash from beyond the door, and a few girlish shrieks. I heaved a hefty sigh, reaching up and pinching at the bridge of my nose. The King’s arms loosened a bit, as I sensed him turning towards the hall.

“I’ve left her alone too long.” I mumbled. “... I should go see what trouble she’s gotten up to now.”

As I slowly turned, he released me, keeping his eyes low. I could see him clearly now... His face was in the shape of pain; his brow knitted, his mouth small and downturned. I couldn’t see his eyes, and his wild hair fell in a frame around his face. My heart throbbed against my ribcage. I watched him nod slowly, and swallowed hard at the sight.

“... We can…” I hesitated again. “... We can talk more… later. Yes?”

He glanced up at me through his lashes. “I’d like that.”

I didn’t bother with a further farewell. Instead turning and breezing out the door. Following the sounds of growing chaos to locate Morgana.

...

The trouble with the goblin noble ladies had been more or less quickly sorted. It simply appeared to have been a small misunderstanding regarding an over extended elbow and a supposedly priceless vase. Apparently the ladies had not expected such a rambunctious human princess. But they had all seemed rather nice. Most were only a few years younger than myself, though none came past my waist. They giggled and ogled at me from behind fans, shy and formal with fluttering, oversized lashes (the latest goblin trend, I learned). However, they gushed over Morgana, and seemed to truly enjoy her spirit. After we wished them a farewell and Hibik had escorted them out, she asked me if she could have all of them be her Lady.

I didn’t have the strength to return to the room Grier might still be, so we explored the halls while she debated the qualities of each. Trying unsuccessfully to pick one from the gaggle. I let her speak, following her about with a torch in one hand. I didn’t mind. It was nice to hear her voice, and see her so excited.

So I ambled along the hall quietly, my eyes downcast as my sister sprinted around me to explore every nook and cranny as we walked. Of which there were a lot. My face was set into its usual mask of ‘seriousness’. But internally, my mind was buzzing like a thousand angry insects. At first I tried to orchestrate my thoughts; to corral them into one pattern. Soon the effort started to give me a headache, so I allowed my mind to do as it would. Barely comprehending each thought or emotion before it ricocheted off the side of my skull and another took its place.

Grier, of course, was at the forefront of my thoughts. What he had said about not needing this Treaty… but instead needing me? Gods, I just couldn’t understand his thinking. It had only been a few weeks, and the goblin was obsessed with me. I wondered if that’s how it was with goblins. Once they decided on a partner, they fixated on them. Unable to think of anyone or anything else. And he had decided on me the minute he saw me walk into the throne room. No thought, no debate. No getting to know me, or wondering if he should or shouldn’t. A part of me envied his quick and confident decision. I couldn’t think of a time I hadn’t agonized over a choice, even tiny ones. Another part of me, a smaller, quieter part… understood it. Not in the same way, albeit. The first time I had met Grier, I had been on edge. Almost terrified of him and what he represented for my people and my future. But now…

He had always been gentle with me, if a little callous at times. He had always sought to understand me, and make me as comfortable as he was able. He had fawned over me, and constantly went out of his way to speak his mind and heart to me. Which… I supposed… was part of the problem. I had never had anyone be so… And to be faced so boldly with such powerful emotions... ones that I had never been allowed to express or understand… it was unnerving. Though I found the more he did it… the less it shocked me. And I couldn’t entirely deny how much I found I enjoyed his company myself. Nor could I ignore the pleasantness of the warm feeling he elicited in my chest...

“Hey, Niko?”

I came back to the present with a few slow blinks, and turned to consider my sister as she ducked beneath my elbow. “Yes, little chickadee?”

“You ok?” Her little hands came up to wrap around my arm, and she gave it a gentle tug. “You seem… not here.”

My cheeks tinted a shade darker, and I cleared my throat lightly. “Ah, sorry, chickadee… I was just… thinking.”

“I like it here.” She told me, beaming. “It's big, and pretty, and everyone smiles a lot…” She skipped over to the nearest bobble, making funny faces in its reflective surface. “And it’s so colorful!” She looked over her shoulder at me. “... Do you like it here, Niko?”

I sighed quietly, glancing around. Considering it for a moment. “... I think I’m starting to.”

“It’s kind of messy for your tastes, isn’t it?” Morgana smiled, darting back over to scoop up my hand and pull me further down the hall. “What about the goblins? Do you like them?” She dropped my hand to run over to another strange item, poking it carefully with one finger. “I think they are nice. And I like their ears.”

I smiled a little at that, glancing around. “They are a very kind people.” I agreed.

“Grier doesn’t really look much like a goblin.” She mused aloud, and my spine stiffened at his name. As if maybe she had been reading my thoughts earlier. “He’s taller than me. And his ears are smaller than other goblins’.” She shrugged, turning and leading the way to another intersection. “He is green though, and he dresses funny. I think that’s enough.”

“Chickadee, you shouldn’t-”

“What’s it like to be married, Niko?” She asked curiously, looking back over her shoulder at me.

I stammered uselessly for a second. “I-I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that...”

She scoffed. “Not yet, anyway.” She turned her attention to the left, and skipped to the edges of the torchlight before waiting for me to catch up. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll let you know.” I replied dryly, and she giggled.

“This way.” She told me, pointing down another hallway. I followed along behind her obediently. “Do you think I’ll get married someday?”

My lips pursed, and I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

“Niiikoo!”

“Nope. I’m sorry. You’re not allowed to grow up.” I told her as she charged at me to plow face first into my torso. “And only grownups get married. Ergo, you are never getting married.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms about my middle. “But I am growing up, Niko!”

“I have already forbidden it. So you cannot grow anymore.” I patted her head. “I hope you like being this tall.”

Morgana swatted my hand away, then shoved at me playfully. “You can’t keep me from growing up! You’re just a brother! Brothers can’t do that.”

“But we can do this.” I hooked my arm around her waist as she dove at me again, and simply hoisted her off the ground. Carrying her in the crook of my elbow. She screeched and kicked, alternating between laughing and yelling at me. I smirked, turning to make our way back down the hall.

“Not that way, Niko!!” She cried, punching the back of my leg. “Your rooms are the other way!”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Well, at least one of us has a good sense of direction.” I commended her, and turned to the correct hallway.

We were greeted by a few amused smiles as I toted her down the hallway. But despite a slight tinge to my cheeks, I found I didn’t much mind the audience. A vastly different experience than at our own castle. The goblin attendants were polite, stepping out of our way with small bows. Smiling and chuckling to themselves as we passed. I nodded to each appreciatively, formally, pretending I didn’t have a wriggling, squealing child tucked under one arm.

By the time we reached my rooms, she was laughing so hard she had gone limp in my grip. I shouldered open the door, extinguishing the torch and finally placing her back on her feet. She shoved at me again, as if to knock me off my feet. She did manage to rock me back a step, but I simply scooped her up again and dropped her over my shoulder until she relented and begged to be put down once more.

She huffed and puffed for a moment, her face flushed, and I smirked at her again. “That’s not fair! You’re bigger than me!”

I fluffed her soft hair. “Well, like I said. You’d better get used to being this size.”

“Would I be tall for a goblin?” Morgana asked me, swatting my hand away again. “Do goblin babies come from eggs? Are they very small?”

“Certainly not eggs, chickadee,” I replied, shaking my head, “And I would imagine they are quite small, yes. If you were a goblin, I suppose you would be tall… And also green.”

She giggled at my teasing, leading the way with a skipping step to the bedroom. I saw her eyes dart about, considering my chambers again. “Why are your rooms so empty, Niko? Where’s all your stuff??”

I stood behind the couch, following her eyes around. “Well… I don’t have much “stuff” here.”

“Why not?”

“... I haven’t been here very long.”

“Where does stuff even come from,” She mused, walking over to the empty sitting room. I followed a few paces behind her. “I just remember having stuff. I don’t remember getting it.”

“It depends on what it is.” I replied softly. “Some things you need, so you make sure you get them. Other things are gifts. Or perhaps tokens or remembrances. And those you collect as you go.”

She led us out to the balcony, leaning carefully over the edge. I wandered closer nervously, eyeing the long drop. And I made sure to stay within grabbing distance. Just in case.

“Ok. I’ll just have to get you gifts then.” She assured me, hanging off the railing by her arms to curl back to look at me. “That way your rooms won’t be so empty anymore.” Her head tilted to the side. “Though I guess you’ll be moving in with Grier soon. Is that where all your stuff is now?”

I stiffened and my face fell. She must have noticed, because she straightened herself out and leaned against the balcony again. We looked quietly out over the mountain range for a few minutes, and my thoughts swirled about dangerously.

“Are you excited to get married, Niko?” She asked me after a little.

I winced at the word, then glanced at her sidelong. “It’s… complicated, chickadee.”

“Why?”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Well… I… I need to get married, to keep our people safe… I don’t really get a say in that... and whether or not I’m excited for it, I didn’t really get to choose it.”

She seemed to think about that for a second. “Yeah, but… the goblins are nice. And Grier is fun. And you’ll get to be a King, right?” She bounced a little, coming off the railing to wander over and draw circles on the cold glass of the window. “It’s like how sometimes you tell me ‘how do you know you don’t like it if you don’t try it’ whenever you want me to eat something yucky or wear something ugly.”

“It’s not quite-”

“And then sometimes, I try it, and I do like it.” She continued, ignoring me. “Valerianus says that since we’re Princes and Princesses, we don’t always get to do everything we want. And Grier said the same thing about being King. Some things we have to do. But…” She turned back to me. “That doesn’t mean we can’t like it too. Even if we didn’t get to pick it.” Her head tilted to the side. “Sometimes we think we want one thing, but really, it's not very good for us. Or it's only good for a little while. Like desert!” She danced from foot to foot as she spoke. “And then, the thing we have to do is actually really good for us… Like broccoli.” She grinned. “...Grier’s even green too.”

I raised a brow at her. “... Did you just compare my fiancé to broccoli?”

She giggled. “I just think that you always say green things are good for us… And Grier’s green too… So that means he’s probably good for us.”

I laughed loudly at that, shaking my head. “Chickadee, you are a wonder.”

Her reply was cut off by a knock from inside. Before I could even think to say anything, she had darted back through the rooms and opened the door.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” Came Seoc’s voice as I made my way more slowly to the foyer, “You are just the royal I was hoping to see.”

“I am?” She asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes. She glanced over her shoulder at me as I slowly approached.

Seoc offered me a bow, and I returned a nod before he turned back to Morgana. “Yes, Your Highness. Your rooms are ready, and we have staff on hand to-”

She squealed so loudly the goblin nearly toppled over in shock. “My very own rooms in a goblin castle!” She cried, bouncing up and down. Morgana spun, grabbing my hand. “ Come on Niko! Let’s go see!”

I sputtered an apology to Seoc, who only grinned knowingly and led the way down the hall. Morgana was practically floating beside me, she bounced so much. And when we reached the soft pine doors, she broke away to sprint in and dart from room to room. Pointing out this or that feature, marveling at the mirrors... Greeting the startled goblin decorators who waited for instruction there.

I spent the rest of the day watching my sister decorate her quarters to her heart’s content. Asking for more curtains, more blankets, more pillows. I wasn’t sure where the goblin attendants managed to find the things she asked for, but each more ludicrous item she described they seemed to manage to procure out of thin air. By the time the sun had set, she was, for once, exhausted. Though still giggling with excitement. They brought us a light supper in her newly decorated chambers, and she regaled me with a retelling of a story she had read while I was away. Her new Lady wouldn’t be able to start until the following day (Morgana finally picked the one named Safa and sent word earlier), so Seoc was more than pleased to attend to us both for the time being. Hibik even stopped by once to see that everything was progressing smoothly. I wondered briefly about another goblin, but pushed that worrying thought from my mind.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been able to spend so much time with Morgana without being constantly guarded or interrupted by other things. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen her smile so much either. It left me in a pleasant mood, with the echo of a smile on my lips. Though I could feel the lingering buzz of my unattended thoughts permanently at the back of my mind throughout the afternoon.

When Morgana finally settled for the evening, I wished her a goodnight, and made my way out. Heading back to my own chambers down the hall, a walk so easy even I could manage it without assistance. Poor Seoc had been exhausted by my sister’s antics, and I had told him to retire early. I had a feeling tomorrow would be a busy day as well for him. My mind was heavy with the weight of my thoughts, and now without my sister to distract me, they flooded my consciousness again. I strode numbly down the hall, hardly paying attention to my surroundings.

So when I approached the door of my rooms and saw the goblin King leaning there against the wall, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I blinked at him stupidly.

“... I thought maybe we could talk more?” He proposed softly. “I didn’t like how we left things and... and I wanted to… maybe explain myself… again...”

I almost sighed, considering him, but couldn’t help my lingering good mood. “... How long has it been since your last confession?” I asked almost timidly, my voice dry. “Surely you must be filled to bursting since this morning…”

He gave me a toothy smile at my quiet teasing. I flicked my eyes away and rubbed at the back of my neck shyly.

“I do have a tendency to do that, don’t I?”

I nodded, then glanced at my door. Swallowing another sigh. “...D-do you… do you want to come in?”

The goblin’s grin turned sheepish. “...If it’s not too much trouble.”

I led the way into my chambers, hesitating in the foyer briefly before moving to the bedroom, seeing as there was nowhere else to sit. It was the first time I regretted my lack of furniture since moving in. Grier slowly sat on one side of the couch there, but as soon as I sat down too he quickly slid closer. I tried not to stiffen, even as my heart raced.

“... Are you still mad at me?” He asked, breaking the silence that had blanketed us.

I did sigh then, shaking my head. My mouth opened, then I slowly closed it again.

“I never meant to force you into this marriage,” He started to gush, “I never wanted-”

I held up my hand, silencing him. “I-I… I just need a moment…” I mumbled. “... To sort through…”

I jumped a little as he reached up and took my hand in his. But I let him slowly entwine his fingers between mine once more, and our hands fell onto the couch between us. I swallowed hard, my heart skipping in my chest. His touch had my thoughts swirling, and I struggled to try and sort through them. The King waited as patiently as he was able, yet with each passing breath I felt more and more anxious as I struggled to find what I wanted to say. Which simply made it more difficult to do so.

“... I-I… I’m not…” I shook my head again, then cleared my throat quietly. “We… I-I mean… you… or more rather… I…”

He glanced at me, lips twitching. His amusement made me even more flustered. I mumbled something incoherent and swallowed hard again. I started as he brought my fingers to his lips, resting a gentle kiss on my knuckles. I assumed he meant it to be a comforting gesture. It seemed to have the opposite effect on me. My face flushed, and I stammered something else before clamping my mouth shut. Letting the silence settle about us once more. I stared down at our hands now between us once more, uncertain what else to do in that moment.

“... I am sorry to have… perhaps pressed too hard for this moment,” Grier began, finally breaking the silence, “But… I have been dying to speak to you since…”

I didn’t answer, chasing a nervous breath down my throat with a quiet swallow. Still staring at our hands. I wasn’t sure how to answer. How to say anything at all. It was as though my tongue had completely forgotten the purpose for which it was originally designed… at the moment it was hopelessly lost in the memory of the taste of his.

“Can we perhaps… speak bluntly for a moment?” He asked, his voice soft with a foreign somberness to it. “... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, glancing over at the door. Remembering that morning with a wince. “I-I… I apologize for… f-for…”

He shook his head, and I stiffened as he slid a little closer. Lifting our clasped hands up to rest on his knee between us. I swallowed again, my eyes darting about in an effort to find some measure of distraction. No matter how small.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” He reassured me quietly, tilting his head in an effort to try and catch my eye, “I just... Wanted to say a few things. And to ask a few things, if you are willing…”

I looked down at our hands, then back over to the door. Shifting nervously. “B-but… ah… Morgana…” I dropped off, my excuse sounding weak even to my own ears.

He chuckled lightly. “She’ll be fine for the night now, surely… I just…” He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face with his free hand, “This… this is hard for me… “

My heart suddenly plummeted into the pits of my stomach, leaving my head spinning. Hard for him? What was hard for him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one worse than the last. My outburst that morning had made him realize we wanted different things. Or perhaps he had been insulted that I did not return his affection. Perhaps he had come to his senses finally. Realized he didn’t like me as much as he thought. Or maybe he wanted to ask permission to take a lover. Or maybe something about… I raked my brain. What had happened yesterday? What had he seen? Was it my father? Was he worried about him? Or perhaps something to do with Morgana-

“I miss you.”

I jerked my head up, staring at him, absolutely flabbergasted. He shuffled, and now it was his turn to avoid my eyes. My mouth opened, then I closed it again. What in the gods’ names did he mean?? I had hardly been away from the man for more than two weeks. And during that time I had been dragged through emotional upheaval after emotional upheaval, been forced to face the most hated parts of myself, forced to face my father’s disownment, forced to… to feel this warmth. To wonder at the lighter-than-air feeling his company left me with. Forced to endure a heart that couldn’t decide whether it should race or freeze in my breast. All because of this man. All because I had hardly left his side. And yet, now he said he missed me? … Had I changed? Had I regressed to my previous self, all hard walls and blunted edges? Or perhaps my outburst from the morning had left him thinking I was an angry and bitter person. I ached with each thought, wondering what he could possibly mean.

He didn’t leave me waiting long. “It sounds silly, I know, but it’s the best way I can think to describe it…” His scarlet eyes drifted to our hands, and he slowly turned mine over. “I miss you. I miss you constantly. You’re… you’re all I can think about.” He ran his thumb across the palm of my hand. “And.. it’s hard, because… I don’t want to scare you, or rush you… But I just… I always want to be touching you. I always want to be near you. I think about the taste of your mouth, and the feel of your body against mine… and…” He smirked sadly, “And then I miss you.”

I stayed frozen, stuck in place. A haze around my head, a tingling in my fingers even as he ran his back and forth over them. My heart thudded so loudly in my breast I was certain he would be able to hear it, and I sought to quell its thunder. I wanted to speak, to say something back to him. But my thoughts were a swirling mess, and I couldn’t pull more than a word or two from the thicket. And nothing I pulled felt right.

“I… I was very angry at the castle yesterday…I could barely control it… ” He told me softly, “When I saw that… To think that he…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head, “I hurt for you. I thought more than once about barging back into the chambers and just…” He sighed, “And now I…” Another sigh, and he shook his head. “... But then, I’m selfish... I’m selfish, and needy, and desperate for your attention…” He was still refusing to meet my eyes, staring down at our hands. “I want to be the one to make you happy. I want to be the one to have the secret of your smile. I want to know all your little intimate, hidden parts you keep tucked away. I… I want you to be mine. Completely mine. And I don’t want to share you with anyone else…”

I didn’t entirely feel like I was sitting there at all. I felt as though I was floating above us, listening to Grier’s confessional. But I was filled with that strange warmth, one becoming more and more familiar each time it flushed my frame from head to toe. I peeked at his face shyly from beneath my dark lashes, and noted that he was still avoiding looking at mine.

“I’m trying to be patient… Trying to stay in your comfort zone… But ah…” I thought he looked a little more green than normal, and a sad smile played at the corners of his thin lips. “But I wanted to keep you abreast of my thinking… so if you ever wanted to… to take some initiative, or ask for something… I wanted you to know that you’ll never overstep your bounds, or make me uncomfortable, or unhappy… or anything like that… Not that you have to,” He added quickly “… If this is all you ever want, I’m happy to give that to you too… ” He squeezed my hand gently. “You could ask me for the sun, and I would be content spending the rest of my life in darkness to give it to you…” Grier gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Aah, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to gush quite so much… especially after this morning…” He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “You must think me an absolute-”

I liked the taste of his voice in my mouth as I suddenly caught his against it. I liked the way he drew in a sharp breath, then quickly recovered to reach out with his free hand and catch the back of my head so eagerly. I liked the way he slid closer, until our thighs brushed together, stretching to the farthest extent of his reach. Lacing our lips as deeply against each other as he could. I shivered as his fingers ran along my hair, and his thumb traced just below my ear.

A wave of shyness washed over me after a shuttering beat of my heart, and I pulled back. Blinking and blushing profusely. He lingered nearby, our faces nearly touching, his hand still at the back of my neck. I opened my mouth, breathing shallowly for a moment, trying to will the words to my lips. I saw his scarlet eyes watching me quietly, filled with something I had no name for which left my heart skipping sporadically.

“...I’m…” I started, my voice barely beyond a whisper, “I-I’m… I’m not good at this…” My words felt smushed and mumbled, and I wasn’t sure he’d be able to understand me. But I had to try. I wanted to try... I stared down at our hands, still clasped on his knee. “I… don’t… I d-don’t… I don’t always know… what I’m…” I dropped off, swallowing hard. “What I’m… feeling…” I scoffed at myself softly. “I never know… And… A-and I don’t trust myself… with this…” I chanced a glance up at him. “... With you.”

His hand slid down, cupping my cheek. “... Can I help? … Am I rushing you?”

I hesitated, bringing up my hand to lay over his. Hooking my fingers around it as if I was going to pull it away. But then, I closed my eyes, and let myself lean into it instead.

“You do help.” I breathed against his wrist, and I felt him squeeze our other hands together. “And… I need… I think I need you to…. Push me… j-just a little.” My eyes half opened, and I stared off at nothing, still tucked into his palm. “Because… b-because I’m… I’m scared.”

“... Of me?” His voice was equally soft.

I shook my head, then hesitated again. I finally took his hand from my cheek, looking down at it still wrapped in my own. A dull ache formed inside me, and I felt my brow furrow. Felt lines crease into the edges of my eyes as I tried to find the words to describe whatever was pulsing through me. Whatever sensation this was… whatever emotion. But I couldn’t think of the words. Couldn’t find how to tell him… Then I brought his hand to my chest, and flattened his palm against it, pressing my hand lightly on top.

“... Of this…” I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head slightly. Wondering if he could feel my heart sputtering beneath his fingertips. “I-I don’t… I don’t trust it… I don’t understand it…”

I felt his weight shift beside me, felt the brush of his breath against my cheek. Then the heat of his lips there, as faint as the air had been a moment before. He released my hand on his knee, bringing it up to hold my face steady, as he planted a gentle kiss on each of my eyelids. I shivered beneath his touch, and felt his fingers curl beneath mine against my chest. I didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking the moment. Afraid of losing the warmth curling through me.

“... After what I saw yesterday…” Grier murmured softly, his hand gently caressing my cheek, “I can’t imagine that you were ever allowed to have emotions… let alone express them… But… I see you, Nikostratus,” He pressed his hand a little tighter to my chest, “... I see how much you’ve changed, just in the short time you’ve been here…” He stopped, and I opened my eyes to find him kneeling on the couch, his legs behind him, perched slightly above me with scarlet eyes vibrant. I looked away from them shyly. “... Change is the wrong word… Especially with Morgana here…” I winced, and he leaned closer at that, resting his forehead against mine. “I’d like to think you two are more alike than perhaps you may first appear…” He sighed softly, his breath spilling across my face, and I drew it in deeply, greedily. “... It makes me wonder what it would’ve been like if…” He dropped off.

I started to shake my head, but he stilled me with his hand. “... I don’t want this for her…” I told him quietly, my voice thin. “I don’t want her to… to end up like me…”

“You act like that would be such a bad thing.” He replied, running his thumb along my cheek.

“... Is it not?” It was a question, but one that echoed with the sad solidity of a declaration.

“I like you. I like everything about you.” He pressed. “I think she would be lucky to end up like you.” He stilled me again as I tried to shake my head once more. “I think you fail to see what a good person you are. You are smart, and loyal, and kind. You are selfless, and honorable.” A smirk slipped across his lips. “And undeniably handsome.”

“S-stop… S-stop that…” I finally managed to shake my head, starting to pull away from him, suddenly sensitive to his touch. “I-I am… I am timid, and hesitant… I-I prefer being alone … I-I have a temper… and I don’t know h-how to… to explain myself… I don’t…” I stopped, glancing at him out the corner of my eye, “... I never take…”

“And I am an arrogant ass, who throws a fit when he’s not the center of attention.” Grier returned even as my voice petered out, catching his fingers in my vest and giving it a gentle tug. “I’m pushy, and demanding, and emotional. I’m impatient. I never think things through.” I let him pull me a little closer, and he ran his thumb over the buttons running down my front. “And I’m selfish, for wanting someone as wonderful as you…”

“You’re not…” I blushed, then averted my eyes. “Ah… y-you’re not… that much of an ass…” He laughed at my shy teasing, and my lips twitched at the corners, feeling a little bolder. “... You’re a good King… and you’re thoughtful… a-and amiable… and… a-ah…” I dropped off, my face growing even hotter. “A-and… gentle... And nice …” I stared down at my lap, running my thumb hesitantly across his knuckles still latched around my vest.

The fingers of his free hand came back to my chin, tilting my head. Just in time to meet his lips as they came to bear against mine. I let out a fluttering breath, hitched and fearful, but couldn’t help melting into his mouth. Leaning close. Feeling my head spin and that strange yet wonderful warmth filling me. He kissed me deeply, his fingers skipping back up my jaw to cup the base of my skull. His fist balled in my vest, pulling me closer to him. My free hand smoothed across his knee where he had left it. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to relax. Forcing myself not to think about anything else, and to just enjoy that moment… that moment of bliss, and the taste of his tongue as he slipped it between my lips. The heat of his hand on my neck. The insistent tug of his fist at my breast.

By the time he finally broke away, he was practically on my lap. Half kneeling over me, half sitting, so that for once I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. Which I did, shyly, and he smiled. Baring those sharp, pointy teeth at me.

“I love the taste of you,” He murmured, stroking his fingers back and forth across my neck, “You always taste sweet, and you smell sweet too. I’m obsessed with the way you smell.” He leaned down, nudging his nose against the tip of mine. “I love the color of your eyes, and I’m haunted by that ghost of a smile you keep trapped at the edges of your lips.” His hand traced lower down my neck, slipping idly beneath my collar. “And your voice… I could listen to your voice all night…”

I didn’t know how to respond. I tried to find words, tried to ease the heat currently burning my ears. But the warmth was in my chest now, and though I longed to say something back, I just… couldn’t seem to make the sounds come out. So I opted for an alternative answer… and I brushed our lips together again, as gentle as a feather. Hoping that action would relay my meaning to him. I felt him leaning after me as I drew away. My eyes flicked to the side, hiding away from him even as he tilted his head to try and catch them once more. He seemed to consider this for a moment as my face flushed and my heart raced.

“Everyone has their faults, Nikostratus,” He told me, running his fingers along the bare skin at the top of my spine, “Only a statue can strive to be perfect.” Grier dipped, falling back into my line of sight and locking our eyes together. “But something made of stone can never live. And to be alive means taking the bad,” He snuck in closer, until his lips brushed against mine as he spoke his next words, “With the good.”

I let myself give in to the temptation of his breath on my lips. Closing the gap and kissing him again. And again. And again. I felt him ease himself closer, sliding his arm around my neck, slipping his hand at my front between the stealthily unbuttoned layers of fabric. The heat of him was intoxicating, and my own hands reached for his waist. I wasn’t sure if I pulled him there, or if he slid across himself, but suddenly I found him on my lap. His bottom resting on my thighs, his knees on either side of my hips. He curled over me, bending my head back with the passion of his kisses until it scraped the back of the couch. He kept one arm wrapped around my neck, the other was wiggling its way further under my vest.

He seemed unable to sit still, like a wave cresting and falling, crashing slowly against my body. It sent a hot gush of emotions through me, and burned my core like fire. My hands slid around his waist, stacking one arm on top of the other to crush him to me, one palm pressed between his shoulder blades. To feel the life of him with each breath that pressed our chests together. To feel the passion as his hips slowly ground against mine. I would have groaned, had he allowed a single molecule of air to pass between my mouth and his. Instead I shuddered, quivering beneath his touch. Lost in the storm of his kisses. The taste of his mouth, the feeling of his tongue swirling around mine.

The goblin pulled back suddenly, and I found myself gulping in deep breaths of air that felt cold compared to the heat of his lips. My eyes fluttered open, and I stared up at him, my jaw a little slack.

“Not yet…” He breathed against me, and I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or his, considering the hunger in his eyes. “... I can do better than this.”

I almost laughed, my gaze flickering down to his lips. “Better?”

“Special.” He crooned, dripping closer to me, and my breath shuddered from my own lips. “You said you wanted it to be special.”

I was distracted by the way the candlelight danced in his eyes, and didn’t respond for a moment. “... Did I?” I mumbled, belatedly.

He chuckled, and I could feel his breath against my cheeks again. “You did.” His teeth pricked my bottom lip lightly. “...And I live to please.”

“A-ah…” I stammered, then blinked earnestly, trying to clear the swirling heat in my head. “...R-right…”

His eyes traced around the edge of my face, and he settled on my lap carefully. My face burned as I became vividly aware of his growing “interest” in me as he did. And I could definitely feel my own blood rushing through more than just my face. My breath tasted different, and I itched to feel more of him. Burned to return to our previous pursuit... My heart raced and skipped, and my thoughts became a useless swirl again.

“Perhaps I should go,” He mused, though his voice sounded leery of the thought, “Let you… sleep. It’s late.”

He started to shift, and my arms suddenly tightened around him. My own eyes widened in shock of my own daringness. And I felt a shiver of anxiousness ripple through me as he looked back at me in what I supposed was surprise.

“O-or… Or you… y-you could…” I swallowed the fast forming lump in my throat, and wondered if my mouth had always been this dry. “A-ah… You could… s-stay.”

“Stay?” he echoed, and I nodded sheepishly, instantly dropping my eyes bashfully away from his. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t hear his grin in his voice with his next words. “... Well, I suppose I could… though your bed is smaller than mine.”

His teasing left my ears hot, and I suddenly recalled the fact that he was still sitting on my lap. And was likely just as aware of the bulge between my own legs. I quickly loosened my hold on him, rubbing at the back of my neck with one hand and trying to look around as if the empty bedchambers were far more interesting than the goblin perched on my person. He chuckled softly again, and I noticed him look over my shoulder for a minute. Chewing over the offer.

“I-it’s ok.” I quickly gushed. “You don’t have-”

“I want to.” He cut me off, then his hand came up, turning me to face him. “Just to sleep though… If you’ll have me.”

I nodded again, stealing quick glances at him periodically before darting my eyes away. I jumped slightly as he leaned back over me to kiss me again. Tenderly, as if I might dissolve into smoke should he be too rough. For half a second, I thought I had...

He broke away and slid off my lap, catching my hands up in his as he did. Tugging me lightly to my feet. And leading me over to the bed. My heart skipped and pounded in my breast, leaping about wildly. He released my hands to pull off his boots and stockings, and to untuck his tunic. I watched him for as long as I dared, then turned my back on him with the pretense of taking off my own boots to place in their usual place. I stood them neatly, folding my stockings and placing them alongside the rest. I tried not to think too much about the soft creak of the mattress as I heard him settling onto the bed behind me. Carefully, I removed my vest, brushing it down quietly and folding it. Then, a little more hesitantly, I removed my tunic. Folding that as well and placing it with the rest. I pretended not to notice the goblin watching me as I turned back. I noticed his shirt discarded on the ground and picked it up. Folding it neatly and laying it over the back of the couch. I even straightened his boots, placing them next to mine. Delaying my return to the bed further to walk around and put out the candles. Carefully, so as to not drip wax.

I heard his soft chortle, and glanced at him over my shoulder. He reached out a hand, as if to pull me in by it, and I nearly swooned for the sight of him. Stretched across my bed, propped up on one elbow. Reaching out to me while bathed in moonlight… I wished I could go splash myself with cold water. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming and for… other pressing reasons.

Timidly, I walked around the end of the mattress, to the empty side closer to the window. Climbing slowly in beside him. It was warm enough to lay with our torsos above the blankets, but he spread them lightly about our legs as we settled into them. I watched quietly, laying on my back with my head turned towards him. Stiff as a board.

“Would it make you feel better if I didn’t face you?” He teased gently, seeming amused. He rolled onto his side, facing the couch. I traced my eyes over the fine muscles of his back and shoulders. Studied the delicate drape of his long, wild hair.

Hesitantly, I dared slide closer. I let a few breaths pass before I turned onto my side, and reached towards him. My fingers faltered, and my hand shook. But after a few more heartbeats, I braved slipping my palm over his shoulder. His hand came up, brushing his fingertips along my knuckles. His touch soothed me a little more, and I slid closer. Until I could feel the heat wafting off his back. Before I could fully work up my courage, the goblin scooched towards me, closing the last of the gap between us and tucking himself into my chest. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed as the soft and spicy scent of him filled my nose. I slowly wound my arm around him, resting my head on the pillow, my chin and nose brushing his hair. It was soft, like satin, and thicker than I would have thought. Messy, certainly, but without knots or tangles. I tried to calm the heat racing through my veins.

Grier traced his fingers lazily up and down my arm wrapped about his middle. As he did, I felt myself loosen a little more. And more with each passing minute. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in a quiet sigh.

“Can I ask you something?” He murmured after a few quiet moments. I hesitated, then nodded against the top of his head. “... Would you want to move to my rooms? After we get married, I mean. Permanently.”

I tried not to stiffen again. Tried to let myself stay in that comfortable shape, curled around him. I swallowed hard, turning it over for a second.

“... I-I don’t… I don’t know…” I mumbled back. “I’d never really… considered... ummm…”

“What about kids?” He asked. “Last we spoke about them, you said you’d ‘never really thought about it’. Have you thought about it more yet?”

“O-oh…” I shifted, suddenly uncertain. “No… not really…”

“... Have you thought about our future at all?”

I swallowed hard again. “N-no…” I confessed. “B-but it’s only been… ah…”

He scoffed lightly, his fingers slowing their movement. “Well, I suppose it’s not like we need to rush… but I think about those kinds of things a lot…”

I said nothing for a long time. He lay still in my arms, and I didn’t relax again until his fingers restarted their movement. I sighed against his hair, blinking the tiredness from my eyes.

“I-I… I haven’t… I can’t seem t-to…” I stammered. His hand paused, squeezing my forearm wrapped around him reassuringly. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. “I’m just… uncertain… and perhaps a bit… umm… wary…”

To my surprise, he nodded. “You’ve got a lot of walls, Nikostratus. And… I assume you put them in place to keep yourself safe. To keep yourself from getting hurt.” He squeezed again. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you bring them down… At least around me.”

“I don’t know… I just…” I slowly wound my arm a little tighter around him, pulling him deeper into my chest. “I-I… I’ve never been… been asked before and… I just… don’t know...” I buried my face in his hair for a moment, then turned my head to the side once my lungs were filled with his scent. “I don’t know how… how I feel… or… Or what I want…”

I hesitated, and must have drawn in sharp enough a breath that he felt it. “You can tell me,” He told me softly, and I wondered what his face looked like at that moment, “It’s alright. Be honest.”

I shifted again. “I’m not sure yet if… If I really like you… or if…” Again I hesitated, and he squeezed my arm gently once more. “... Or if I am just… just finally letting myself… like someone…” I closed my eyes in denial of their burning edges. “I need more time… I-I need to know before…”

He didn’t say anything to that, and part of me longed to see his face again. To see what he was thinking, as I knew it would be plainly written across his features. Another part of me didn’t. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I saw the ache echoing there that I felt in my chest. It was better this way, I reassured myself. Better that I didn’t let him get his hopes up, just to crush them later. Better that he knows now… I told myself that… but it didn’t feel better.

“... I’m marrying you,” I whispered, and tried to keep my voice from quivering, tried to keep from stumbling over the strangeness of that notion slipping through my lips, “I will never go back on my promise for that… but…” I thought I felt him wince at the word, and I instinctively pulled him a little tighter to me. “... But I… I just… I just don’t know.” I sighed, trying to fight the burning in my eyes even harder. “... I like this… I like… umm… th-this…” I turned my face into his hair again, trying to draw strength from the smell of it. “... I think I like this…” Now it was my turn to wince. “... I-I’m sorry…”

He ran his hand up and down my arm again. “Don’t be. I asked you to be honest with me. To always feel free to speak your mind.” I felt him nod, and it made me pull him even closer, curling myself completely around his smaller body. “This is your truth right now. Your emotions are always true, no matter how they make anyone else feel. I would not hold them against you…. And I can wait. Until you know…” His voice dropped off, “... One way or the other…” He scooped up my hand around his middle, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss over the knuckles. Belittling the sad tinge to his voice. “And I’ll enjoy this. All of this. Because I already know my heart.” He kissed them again, then tucked it against his cheek and settled down to sleep. “I can wait until you know yours...”

....

There was an exasperated cry, and the sound of a door hitting a wall. My only warning before I was jarred fully awake by the added weight suddenly bouncing next to me.

“Niko! NikoNikoNikoNikoNIKO!”

I sat bolt upright, flailing a moment, then feeling the blood rush so thickly through my face I thought my head might explode. Morgana bounced on me, grinning like a fool. She clambered to her feet and continued to jump up and down on the mattress. Leaping back and forth in my bed with a long string of my name punctuating each pounce. My eyes went wide, and then darted to a flabbergasted Seoc and Hibik who now stood at the foot of the bed. Both babbling over the other incoherently. Beside me, Grier gave a grumpy moan, rolling deeper into the pillows. Somehow unperturbed by the ruckus around him. His sound however, had me nearly squeaking in embarrassment.

“Niko! Hibik says I have to ask you if I can go to the gardens. Are there lots of flowers? Can I go? Is it very cold?” She bounced over my knees, barely dodging landing on Grier’s legs, as her words came out so fast I could barely distinguish one from another. “Oh!” She tilted her head to the side. “Did you know Grier is here too?? Is he still asleep? But the sun’s up already!”

“My apologies, Your Highness!” Seoc finally managed, and he seemed to be panting, his slicked back hair disheveled. “Sh-she was very insistent! I tried to stop her!”

The goblins were hastily shifting and moving back and forth, only adding to the overall chaos as Morgana jumped around. Hibik was speaking rapidly to Seoc in goblinese, who seemed to be trying to skitter from side to side as if to predict which part of the bed the Princess would be closest to when he got there.

“They said you were sleeping! But it’s dawn! You never sleep past dawn!” She told me as she bounced, grinning from ear to ear as she ignored their frantic attempts to coax her down. “And I tried to tell them that-”

“Ch-Chickadee!” I stammered, reaching up to catch her hand. “That’s enough… C-come here.”

She dropped to her bottom, plopping down onto the bed beside me with her legs dangling off the side. The pair of goblins darted over, sputtering apologies in a mixture of Common and goblinese and bowing repeatedly. My face was so hot it hurt, and I struggled to get my mouth and mind to work in coordination. I tried to shake my head, made some attempts to soothe their rushed words. But couldn’t seem to work up the volume to get a word in edgewise.

“Get. OUT. You fools.” Grier growled from somewhere behind me, his voice coarse with sleep. “Now!”

I jumped at the King’s angry snap, even muffled as it was by the sheets and pillows. I almost didn’t recognize it as his. Both of the goblin attendants squeaked, nearly running over each other in their haste to obey the King. Obviously not wishing to suffer his wrath should they be seen hesitating. I was pretty sure I heard the soft thud of one of them tripping over their own feet before I heard the click of the door. Morgana spared the King a glance, but seemed otherwise unbothered.

“Niko, I was talking to Hibik, and he said that the kitchen is really big, so I was thinking-”

“Chickadee,” I breathed, struggling to get enough air through my constricted chest, “Please, I-I need a few minutes-”

“To get Grier up? It’s ok, he can come to the kitchen too. Or is he too busy?” She tilted her head to the side. “What do Kings even do all day?”

“Chickad-” I tried to start again.

“Why IS Grier here?” She asked, tilting her head to the other side. “Did you two sleep together?” I did squeak now, my entire body stiffening at her words. “I thought you would sleep in his room, because that’s where all your stuff must be-”

“Morgana!” I snapped, my voice suddenly tight. She started slightly at that, finally looking up at me and falling still. Instantly I regretted my harshness, and swallowed nervously. “... Look, Chickadee…” I amended gently. “... Why don’t you go with Hibik to the gardens? Or Seoc? Explore for a bit? I-I’ll…. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

She watched me for a second, seeming to think this over. I saw her hazel eyes dart over to Grier, still mostly buried in the blankets behind me. I winced, feeling the heat pounding through my head again. But tried very hard to pretend the goblin wasn’t actually there.

“Ok, I like that idea.” She finally agreed, nodding, and bounding from the bed. “Sorry I woke you, Niko.” She leaned over my lap, forearms on my knees. “Sorry Grier!”

His muffled grunt had me stiffening anew, and I blinked rapidly, swinging my legs out of the bed as if in denial that we were in the same one. Morgana’s small body, draped across them, came along with me, and she giggled. Leaping up to wrap her arms around my neck and give me a hug. I tried to release my tension with a sigh, but it only seemed to fan the flames under the balls of my cheeks.

“Listen, Chickadee,” I told her softly, “We’ll… We’ll need to talk about this later…” She leaned back, looking up at me curiously. I fumbled, my lips becoming like butter. Then shook my head. “But go explore for now.” I scooped the back of her head with my hand as she moved to run off. “And listen to Seoc and Hibik. Ok?”

“Ok, Niko.” She replied exasperatedly, pulling my hand away and skipping off to the foyer.

As soon as she darted out the door (and obliviously left it slightly ajar behind her) I groaned. Dropping my face into my hands and releasing a breath so deep it made my shoulders quiver. My blood was still rushing in my ears, and I felt dizzy and lightheaded.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a pair of warm green hands slowly slid across my shoulders. I lifted myself from my palms a little, enough to peek nervously at the King out the corner of my eye. My heart skittered and raced at his touch. Grier rested his chin on my shoulder, draping lazily over me. Giving a toothy yawn and blinking sleepily.

“That was certainly a wake up call.” He mused, sounding both tickled and groggy, still a little hoarse.

“... I think I’m going to be sick.” I moaned softly, and he laughed quietly at that.

I jumped again as his hot lips pressed to the soft skin of my neck. “Best thing for an upset stomach is rest…” Another light kiss. “...Come back to bed.”

I hesitated, fidgeting in place. Unable to reconcile the memory of the previous evening with the events of the morning. I glanced nervously towards the slightly ajar door.

“A-aah… B-but Morgana-”

“Can wait.” He trailed a kiss down my neck again, sliding his hot arms even further around me. “Come sleep some more.” When I cast him another peeking look over my shoulder, he grinned sleepily, his eyes still half-lidded. “Selfish, remember?” Another kiss. “I want you-” and another “-all for myself.”

I weakly gestured towards the crack of light snaking out into the hall beyond. “S-she ah… left the door-”

Grier murmured something against my skin I didn’t understand, and flicked his fingers towards the foyer. And the door slammed shut forcefully. I heard the deadlock fall into place with a thud that echoed in the silence following. I swallowed hard.

“It’s too early.” He moaned letting up the press of his lips against my throat to sigh deeply and rest his cheek in the crook of my neck instead. I hadn’t realized how flushed I was until I felt his own heat popping beads of sweat across my skin. “I don’t know how you stand it. And all this sunlight-” He blinked at the window, scowling “-I miss my dark room.”

“... You could go back.” I mumbled dryly, and he chortled.

“Not without you.” He returned in a soft purr. The goblin trailed his fingers lazily up my sternum, sending a shiver down my spine. “...Come to bed?”

I glanced down at my bare feet, shaking my head again shyly. “I-I’m too awake now.”

He gave me a gentle tug. “Then be awake. I’ll sleep for the both of us.”

I shook my head once more. “...Y-you and Morgana must be in a competition to see who is more incorrigible.”

He laughed a final time, laying a final kiss against the side of my neck. I couldn’t help curling away bashfully. The King hummed a soft sound at that, reaching up and turning my head to the side. Then planted a proper, if sloppy, hot kiss on my lips.

“Well, I’m going back to sleep.” He declared weakly as he drew away, considering me through half-lidded eyes. “I’ve already been awake far too long for my liking.”

He flopped back into the sheets, and I looked over at him, surprised. As I watched, he burrowed deeper into them and gave a hefty sigh… I wondered quite how he managed that so easily. I felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly brushed it away. Standing and heading over to my trunk to pull out a fresh tunic and vest. I chanced a glance back over at him as I pulled it over my head and tucked it into my trousers, only to find his breathing had already deepened. I pretended I wasn’t checking on him after every other button as I fastened my vest, and that it was absolute coincidence that I ended up next to the bed a few moments later. Though of course, since I was already there…

I reached out timidly, daring to brush my fingertips along his wild bangs. I drew in a sharp breath, looking around. As if someone might pop out and demand to know exactly what I thought I was doing. No one did though, and I returned my attention to his sleeping face, half submerged in the soft blankets. I dared trail a little closer, bending over him. I decided he was either a very good actor, or already in a very deep sleep. Still, I felt emboldened by his stillness, and placed a shy, almost curious kiss on his temple.

I drew in a sharp breath, withdrawing in surprise, my brow furrowing. I forgot myself, and cupped my hand along his jaw, then slid it up to his forehead. Confirming what my lips had already deduced. The goblin stirred beneath my palm.

“Grier, you’re hot…” I told him, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice.

He shifted sleepily, but a wry smile played across his thin lips. “You’re not so bad yourself…” He mumbled groggily.

“No, I-I…” I stammered exasperatedly, “I mean… You’re burning up…” I couldn’t help but cup my hand around the back of his head. “D-do, do you feel alright?”

He groaned, weakly trying to push my hand away. “I’m just tired. Join me, or leave me be.”

“I’m getting Hibik.”

“Nooo, gods, I’m… I’m fine…” He grumbled, but seemed to be struggling to open his eyes again. “Don’t get that old… that old…”

I didn’t linger a moment longer, spinning and practically running to the hall. The door wasn’t even fully open before I was shouting for the older goblin…

...

UPDATE: Part Twelve HERE

#Royal Flush #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin husband #monster lover #monster husband #monster x male #mlm #male x male #terato #exophilia #monster romance #monster royalty #royal marriage #royal engagement #slow burn #angst

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